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Author’s Note: This is my story, I wrote it, and stealing is lame. If you don’t like it, don’t read it (This means you.). All of the characters, in all of my stories, are well over 18 at the time of intercourse and nudity. Feel free to send me complaints, I will feel free to ignore them or delete them and call you an asshole, out loud. Thanks to all the feedback and voters. Hope you enjoy:
DISCLAIMER: No animals were harmed, nor abused, in the writing, thinking, or typing of this story. It’s a bit long, but all chapters at once.
Someone Else’s Spring Break Hook-up
“Way to Screw Your Brother”
Milton was in trouble and not just from his name. It was early, too early for this crap. Morning be damned, he was still screwed, well beyond his nomenclature and the ‘Mildew’ it morphed into. To the surprise of few, it was all Milton’s brother. Micah had fucked him, and totally without conscience, or care, or lubricant. Micah was also going for a group discount on the shafting.
“Look, she’ll be here in a fuckin’ hour, so just get rid of her, Mildew,” Micah was getting pissed.
“I will not do it, Mike. I will not. Maybe, be responsible? I will not clean up your mess, again. Maybe you could have just been truthful for once…” Milton hated to fight with his brother, but he knew the deal. Family stabs you in the front, consistently. “Why so last minute? Why not call her and lie again?”
“Listen, Mildew, it doesn’t matter if you will, or you won’t, ’cause I’m leaving for the rest of the week. I’m not coming back and I’m staying with Laura at her place. If she finds out, or if you fuckin’ tell her, I’ll beat the shit out of you.” Micah was pointing with malice at his younger brother’s chest.
Milton knew he would win that fight, not Micah. He may have been two years younger than his brother of twenty-four, but he would win. Milton always brought the pain physically, never verbally; ex-fat-kids are seldom ones to abuse people with words.
“Seriously?!All week? I have work to finish. Man, you have work to finish. What do I tell Mom? What if she tells Laura? This is too much, man. Not this time. I won’t. I won’t do it.” Milton sagged his shoulders, he knew what was coming.
“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter, ’cause if Mom tells Laura, I’m still going to apunch your fat face.” Milton’s face was almost the same as Micah’s, except with less oil, and more shaving. His brother still used fat jokes. “It’s your problem now. I’m not taking the chances of ‘bumping’ into this stalker rich bitch. See you in a week, Mildew.” Micah pushed Milton into the kitchen wall, glasses and pictures rattling, and then burst out of the back door – glasses and pictures rattling again.
“Lazy… irresponsible… spoiled… selfish…” Milton was screwed. A woman he had never met, one of his brother’s college flings from spring break, would be there within the hour. Milton would be the only one at home, and god only knew what this woman thought was reality.
“Holy moley… What am I going to tell Mom when she gets home tonight…”
Even if Milton had gone to college himself, he still would have been off for the last weeks of summer, and he would still be waiting on his brother’s previous week long fuck toy. There was no escape; he was boned in this reality or the alternates.
This woman – the one he was apparently waiting for in his brother’s stead – Micah had cheated on his ugly, busted, girlfriend with; only because his girlfriend had a family holiday to deal with, and did not tag along on break. He only dated Laura to sleep with her friends.
Micah did not have a choice. If he lost Laura, all of his schemes would come crashing down.
“Wow… Boondocks…” Jeanette, being a city girl, was definitely amused at her own joke. This was well beyond what she would consider country. This was bordering on wilderness: The houses were barely, the driveways unseen. There was civilization, but it was simply hidden by late summer foliage. It had been this way since she left the toll road, a toll road she had been on, in one state or another, for the past five hours.
“Thank god I’m almost there… I have to frickan’ pee…” Jeanette, under any other circumstances, would have roughed it, but this place was rough enough that an animal might nip at her rear. Rabies, yokels, and poison plants were also issues in her mind.
Jeanette would have been turned on for the body of the young man at her destination, had the urine not been winning over those parts. She had been thinking about their week together, in Mexico, since she had arrived back home and since she had left her home up north. It was easily the best sex of her life. That is, until she had to pee.
This was the beginning of the end of summer. She hoped it was the last-ass-blast before the senior year of hard college work she had ahead of her. It would also be the last-ass-blast since spring break.
This Mike Harris, Micah, had been a great fuck, and had a killer body canlı bahis — even if he was a bit crude — like some sort of movie star. His sexual prowess was worth another shot in her mind as well, plus she would now get to see what kind of person he was at home. To Jeanette, sex like that was worth marrying, as long as the cow was not in the mud.
Micah had promised her another go when they left each other at the airport in Mexico. It was a promise she had heard before, three other times, but when his phone number worked, and he remembered who she was, the agreement was struck. Jeanette was invited for a week, plus a weekend, to stay in a country home, and it was only Monday – mid early morning.
“Oh my god I have to PEE!!!!” Jeanette was yelling into the interior of her mid-size luxury sedan, now coasting as turtles do to search for the driveway and the house number. There were no mailboxes here.
“Oh my god there it is! Bathroom! PeePeePeePee!” Jeanette was still yelling as she turned into the long driveway. She realized she was screaming down the rubble-stone path just as a large and unknown – and far more attractive than the one she remembered — man was walking from the quaint house, to the older, well faded and worn, grey barn.
The barn had a sign that said “Harris Specialties” above a brand new door to one side, and the back yard was all pasture. Jeanette could see a pair of horses, in one of the fields, just as the young man began to slide the giant original one story door of the barn smoothly open. His muscles were flexing in his shorts and simply red t-shirt as the door effortlessly opened; everything else is visual range appeared to be well maintained, even if the barn needed paint.
“Heynow…” Jeanette said to herself out loud while all thoughts of bathroom release temporarily faded from the view in the windshield. Her voyeur said hello to the front of her mind.
“Man, she is moving…” Milton said as he watched the black Japanese car fly up the driveway. “Wait until she finds out Mike’s not worth it,” he continued to himself as he began to open the large door of the barn, admiring the natural, earthy, finish of the lumber.
He had a stalled horse to feed, on time as usual, and then he had to get to work on repairing that antique Regency chair for Mrs. Adelade. He also had to break the news, still, to this speed-demon of a woman, and unclog that creek in the back of the pasture.
Thank goodness he had mowed yesterday.
This was going to be a busy day to begin with, beside the fact that Milton had been up for hours doing random chores and maintenance; leftovers from the busy week last week and this weekend. Micah was supposed to fix the creek to ease Milton’s burden, as he had promised his mother at her request – the property was half his as it was – and not ‘play’ this girl to ease his own burden.
Milton was screwed. Or at least, he thought he was, until the sedan slid to a stop – throwing dust from the stoney driveway into the air – turned off, and the beauty bounced out.
“Bathroom!” She was not yelling, but was obviously stern. She had her hand hovering over the front of her crotch.
“Uh… wow… Hello there…” Milton was rubbing his head and short hair with one hand, surprised, bordering on flabbergasted, by her looks. Micah seldom pulled tail like this; ‘Bathroom!’ might have been the perfection Micah’s current girlfriend was striving for.
“Bathroom!Bathroom!Bathroom!” It seemed as if this also screwed young woman was in a hurry, and she was jumping in place now – hopping – hand still over the front of her shortest shorts.
“Oh, right, I guess you would have to pee… Go in the back door, through the kitchen, it is at the end of the hall, at the top of the steps.” He was still holding the back of his head and pointing to the back door; eyes on her eyes; the red shirt to the blue eyes; the blue eyes to the brown ones; the yellow belly tank-top clad, full size, bumble ‘bees’ and their stingers to the brown eyes. (nice)
She left at a speed to rival a no-flight desert bird without the sound effect. The cloud of dust was eerily similar, though. Milton heard “Thanks!” as the finest behind he had ever beheld disappeared into the house. The shorts had pockets, empty, and the fabric stretched across her like second skin; nothing would fit in those pockets anyway, nor would someone, anyone, want to ruin the view.
“Holey moley…” he said to himself, re-imagining jiggles and tiny ripples, making his way to the energetic stallion whinnying and stomping a front hoof in the third stall. Mr. Ed, the horse – of course – was agitated and waiting; he knew what time it was.
As Jeanette ran through the old, but well maintained, home towards the bathroom and pressure release, she could only help but wonder if Lake Wobegon’s clone was nearby in the area. This house was decorated almost stereotypically, with knick/knacks, random two tone tongue-and-groove paneled walls, doilies, needlepoint bahis siteleri artwork, wainscoting, and entirely soft colors with white ceilings. It smelled of cinnamon, coffee, and apple pies, with biscuits on a plate on the cool woodstove in the living room.
She finally made it to the bathroom, her panties and shorts around her ankles before the door was even closed. She almost peed on herself trying to keep it closed, that is, until she saw the sliding latch – at least a hundred years old and working perfectly.
Jeanette barely noticed the room until she sat upon the slightly cool seat and let loose, at least the house was modernized enough for central air.
“Oh thank gawd……..” she said as she took note of the clawed foot iron bathtub with shower, and the pedestal sink. No stains; cleaned and polished, pearly white with a patina she appreciated. As she finished and began to wash her hands with soap that smelled of lemons, dish soap, the thought of the young man outside hit her mind followed by thoughts of a surprisingly normal home.
“I didn’t know he had a brother, this place doesn’t feel like Mike…” she thought before continuing and drying her hands. “Where is Mike anyway? He said he would be here, and this house is empty.” As she exited the bathroom, her voyeur took over. The hallway upstairs had three other doors besides the bathroom; Jeanette would just have to take a little peek – but only for a moment…
The first room was female, Micah’s parents’s, she reasoned. The room was decorated much like the house, only with pink, and the room was neat and tidy.
“Boooring…” Jeanette said aloud as she moved quickly to the next mystery door.
The second room was obviously male; it looked and smelled the part. Everything was strewn across the floor, as the only things on dusty upper surfaces were plates and cans and change. There were ten times the amount of coins on the floor – easily far more than on the upper surfaces – under the clothes, trash, and crumbs.
“Ew….” Jeanette was quite displeased with the state of things, over and above the tasteless posters of women and sports figures, all crooked, and animal heads, all crooked. She ventured in, slowly, but only for a moment… Her ageless voyeur was the boss under the circumstances.
It appeared to have not been redecorated since youth; when she checked, there were porn magazines in the nightstand, next to the bed, with used tissues. The walls were a dark shade of blue, and creepy. Creepy for the most part because the curtains were bound closed, and little light entered the room, along with death on unpolished wood. The smell in no way assisted the situation.
“Wonder what’s behind door number three…” Jeanette was smiling at her own joke as she opened the next door. On first glance, she was back into the home she should be. This one was almost spotless. Almost, because there was some laundry next to, and in, the mostly empty hamper, and papers, plus blueprints and drawings, were strewn across the organized desk to one side. Lived in, and interesting.
This room smelled like a man, older spices and other non-feminine scents of the best kinds. No dust on any surfaces, not even the brimming bookshelf or books. In fact, the older, slightly before modern, furniture was the opposite of the other room, as the polish was deep, the shine hollow and bottomless.
The bed was made, the curtains opened for the light, the two slim windows were clean, and there was a bookmarked non-fiction novel — about Native Americans – on the nightstand. From what Jeanette knew about Micah, this was not his room. She walked up to the bed, stretched the stretched shorts, and sniffed the pillow, noting the carved headboard with posts.
Jeanette laughed, but instantly clamped a hand over her mouth; her voyeur was in charge on that one, but it was paying obsessive attention to the scent. She had seen the posts of the bed against the wall, that’s what caused the laugh. They were clamped to the sectioned wood panels of the wall with padded metal brackets.
“He must fuck like his brother,” she spoke in her normal voice.
The exactly red walls, and the matching stained furniture and trim, only strengthened the thought in her mind. Now, Jeanette was wondering about her choices, especially after she went about studying the photos on the walls in the posterless, headless room. Randomly, there were encased plants, or insects, with little labels, hung on the wall instead, or on a shelf or edge.
Death was here for wisdom.
All of the frames matched on the pictures, with a tone or two different from the trim, and all of them were personal. Most of the photos included a younger version of the man she had seen outside, along with some featuring Micah and/or a man she assumed to be the boys’s father. The various sized scenes of life and memory featured the smiling mystery brother along with various family – maybe friends – or scenes of life that he had taken. His eye for the bahis şirketleri camera was clever, and Jeanette found no porn.
Micah had been the best choice by far on her last-ass-blast weeks, as something about him made her slightly more attracted than the average bear. Milton, the unknown man, made all other bears look like Yogi, and she had not seen him naked.
This feeling, from this room, was the same, but tenfold or greater; she was thinking of both brothers now, at least, her voyeur was; so much so the voyeur, she almost powered on his computer, but moved elsewhere by gravity’s force.
“Ok self, that’s enough. Let’s go find out where our Micah is.” Jeanette was talking to herself, and she was horny again, as she made her way back out to the faded wood barn. She glanced into the fridge as she went, just for knowledge, and shortly pondering the only two women in the photos upstairs.
“Yeah, she looked pretty good to me too, Ed, what am I going to tell her?” Milton was talking to the horse.
The horse smacked it’s lips in reply, bobbing it’s head with it’s nose in it’s food bucket.
“You think so? I don’t know big guy… That might just get me into trouble…” Milton was just finishing the hanging of the water bucket, in the stall, as the horse was freshly grained and hayed. The pair talked like this often.
“What just might get you into trouble?” Jeanette’s voyeur had been watching and listening, a smile across her oversized natural lips as she leaned against the old barn wall. It smelled more of fresh and old wood, and hay, than horses.
Both Milton and Ed lifted their heads to look at the ‘butter-inner’ through the metal bars of the stall. Milton almost spilled the water bucket in surprise. Ed looked at Milton before returning to his grain, the horse knew they were busted.
“Oh, it’s you, uh… Hi there… again, uh… What is your name?” Milton was dodging as best he could, also interested in the answer.
“Jeanette, Jeanette Masters… nice to meet you?” She was holding out her hand to him, confused when Milton did not move.
“Uh… they are dirty…” Milton was looking at his hand in front of his self as Jeanette stuck hers through the metal bars, and into the stall.
“Don’t worry about it, country living, right?” Her smile was Milton’s perfect image of such.
“Oh? Yup, country living, uh, Milton, Milton Harris,” he said grasping and shaking her hand, “and this is Mr. Ed,” he said kicking the thumb of the same hand to the horse in the stall as he finished. Ed grumbled in response to his name, into the bucket.
“Mr. Ed? Really? You have to be joking…” Jeanette said as she watched the young man exit the stall and lock it behind him. She had watched the show in re-runs, at school, while she did her homework.
“Well, Mister King Edward-Up-Front is his full name, he is a race horse.” Milton was rubbing the top of Ed’s nose, between his eyes, as he spoke. Ed continued to eat, almost finished with woofing down his grain.
“Oh, ishe fast?” Jeanette had a look of sexy curiosity as she spoke, as if she were interested, and as if the answer would turn her on – more.
“I.. uh.. would not know. Neither would he, really…” Milton was moving about, ‘ignoring’ her as best he could and not well at all.
“…uh… He is a stud horse, a ThoroughBred stallion. He is.. uh.. really just a big spoiled baby.. since he won his first race by large margins. Too expensive and too well trained for anyone to ride him…” Milton’s choring, and her leaning on the stall wall, continued as he continued.
“…He’s just boarded here for breaks between the humping. It is what he does best, even if he is lazy. Right, Ed?” Milton was smiling at both Jeanette and Ed as he spoke, glancing at both. Jeanette’s chest in her tank-top as she did horizontal push-ups was hard not to look at, his kindness to the animal was hard to ignore.
Ed lifted his head and snorted, loudly and chewing, before returning to finish the last part of his grain in the bucket.
“Well, I think he’s beautiful. I do, Ed, I really think you are.” Jeanette was bubbling with sweetness as she spoke. Jeanette had never spoken to a horse before, this seemed like fun times to her. She also noticed Milton trying to not look at her bouncing chest as she smiled and laughed, and that was definitely fun times for her.
“Micah, who?” kept poking her brain, her voyeur was agreeing and calling her a slut.
Ed, finished with his grain, stuck his head out of the opening in the stall, bobbing his head up and down a few times in appreciation, Milton still moved about in chores as he spoke.
“You can pet him, I do not think he would mind. Ed loves pretty ladies, in’t that right, Ed.”
The horse whinnied and snorted in response to Milton. Jeanette could only laugh and pet his nose to a grumbling sound coming from deep in his belly.
“So, what just might get you into trouble, Milton? Or can I call you Milty? Or Milt?” Jeanette was enjoying his attitude, he was the opposite of his cocky brother, and far more handsome – maybe even taller, but she could not remember exactly. She was debating her choices once again in mind and body; but the voyeur had chosen.
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