Everyone Has a Secret#

Secrets

I hadn’t payed much attention to her in high school nor at any of the re-occurring reunions and luncheons. She just one of those people who hadn’t interested me in the least. We had grown up on opposite sides of the town and were raised in very different households. Her family farmed while my dad had moved the family up north after finding work at a prestigious scientific laboratory. Forty years had passed. My father left me with ten credit cards maxed out and a house with three mortgages while Lynn’s father had left her with four hundred prime acres. That was four hundred acres after the state had already taken a hundred acres to put in a federal highway complete with a clover leaf. Lynn had never married and her brother had passed years before trying to mate his new Firebird with a telephone pole.

I had also graduated with Joshua of which everyone in school affectionally called, Smiley, for he was always smiling. His father was the town lawyer, Samuel whose birthday was on the same day as my own. Joshua had followed his uncle, becoming a general surgeon. One thing I had noticed since the thirtieth reunion was that Josh was all about Josh. Who he had rubbed elbows with; the patients he had operated on. How he had specially designed his house. That his wife hadn’t come to the luncheon because she was out buying a new foreign luxury car. He never asked about you. So it surprised me when Josh lowered himself to talk to Lynn at the far end of the tables. I found it even more surprising that he was actually asking about and listening to her story. Then I realized why that was —she was asking for financial advice.

Money had never held any great interest for me. I had worked since age twelve, hoeing a farmers field before he turned it into a cracker box subdivision. Over the years, that sort of thing had become all too common as the big city suburbs pushed their way south. I guess it was because I had become fed up with Joshua’s I-me-me-I-ism, that I interceded in their conference.

When I say that the years hadn’t done Lynn any favors, mostly I mean that she still had crooked teeth and hay for hair. Her speech and mannerism betrayed her low IQ. She had been held back her fourth year in grade school, the year that my father moved us into that town. I was no prize either. I wasn’t athletic and my parents never pushed me to achieve much of anything, including grades. Truth be told, not even I thought myself all that smart. It wasn’t until after serving two tours of duty and coming back home, then being encouraged to do something with myself that I employed my G.I. Bill to go on to college. That was when I put my nose to the proverbial grind stone. Who knew? I actually graduated sixth in my class and like my father before me, got a job at the sister scientific laboratory to my father’s place of employment. I had married right out of college. Had my two kids and suffered through a divorce years later. Now that I was nearing retirement, I began to look at life differently. Age has a way of doing that.

“Lynn, if I may, if you’re being approached by the bank to buy your land, I would presume there are developers out there who far exceed anything that the bank is offering.”

It had been at our thirtieth reunion when someone informed me that there were several of our classmates who had sold their family farms and were now multimillionaires. Three of them were girls who had never married, much like Lynn. And much like Lynn, they too had never been asked to the prom or ever approached marriage. Lynn, Linda, Lydia and Brenda. Good old fashioned midwest farm gals.

Eventually Joshua grew tired of a conversation which didn’t involve talking about himself and moved back down to the other end of the table. A brief silence grew between Lynn and I as we found ourselves dismissed by the others. Small talk slowly turned into a lingering silence. I found it difficult to hold a conversation with her because her replies were mostly single sentences, much like when someone is giving you a cold shoulder. Only that wasn’t in Lynn’s demeanor. She never was one to exude confidence or think that she had anything of interest to add to a conversation. I don’t recall her coming to any of the school sock-hops or hang out the local roller rink. As I mentioned, I never paid much attention to her presence.

Lynn excused herself to go powder her nose. It was only then, as she removed her jacket and draped it over her chair before leaving that I realized Lynn was no longer the flat chested girl of high school daze. I wondered if my shock had registered on my face and whether or not she had seen it. Now I confess, female breasts have long been a major interest of mine —since my earliest childhood memories. My ex hadn’t done much to satiate those lustful desires. Little House on the Prairie, plain Jane had never filled out, not even when the kids took to nursing. I should have paid greater attention to her mother’s physique.

Today, however, Lynn, even without having born children, even from that brief profile observance, had filled out remarkably well. It was while powdering her nose that I contemplated whether she was to be pursued. Immediately I accused myself of hypocrisy. I hadn’t given Lynn two thoughts until now. Were breasts really all it took to get my undivided attention? Such a plain Jane herself. She still wore the most unfeminine clothing. Even her hair style hadn’t changed over the years. So many negatives and only two positives, unless you wanted to add in the possibility of monitory wealth.

She didn’t return with any thought up comment or question. She simply sat herself down next to me, brushing her hair to one side before taking a sip of her coke. No longer sleeved in a jacket, I noticed that there was very little loose skin on her upper arms. The girl was fit and her skin retained much of its youth though sun darkened forearms showed some signs of dryness.

“So what do you do, Lynn, to keep yourself busy? Do you still farm your fields?” To my surprises, a smile etched its way across her face and a bit of animation creeped into her body.

“Not this year. My father always believed in resting the soil every seventh year. I had alfalfa planted on most of it. Next year corn then the following was always to be beans then wheat. But who knows what the future holds?”

“So you are seriously considering selling the farm?”

“When Walter wrapped his car around the telephone pole and my dad suffered a heart attack right after that, dad began talking about giving it all up. Our neighbors, the Schroder’s, had offered to share crop. So that’s what we’ve been doing since then. Dad still wanted to rotate crops despite Jason and his dad kept pushing for the use of anhydrous ammonia and Roundup.”

For several minutes I sat and listened, amazed that the simple girl knew so much about field management. Apparently when her dad decided to share crop, he then sold most all of his harvesting equipment. The bank tried to take advantage of her father’s situation when Walter died but with the sale of the equipment plus a record year of harvest and higher than average grain prices, her dad had somehow managed to finally pay off all the farm loans. The farm, for the first time in three generations was free and clear. And now with the new highway stealing a hundred acres under eminent domain, Lynn was finding herself at a crossroads in her life and it was plain that she was at a loss as which way to go.

To my surprise, Lynn began asking about what I had been up to over the years, seemingly taking an interest in me. I still couldn’t get over her toothy grin. I knew to kiss her would be totally amateurish. Even as I answered her inquiries I wondered if after all these years if she was still a virgin.

As the luncheon drew to an end, I paid for Lynn’s lunch despite her protest. It was then that things began to evolve.

“Wayne, do you have time to stop over at the house?”

Lynn didn’t disappoint her persona. It was an old, well used pickup truck that I followed through town before turning down a gravel road. I was very familiar with the road. The area junk yard was half way down. As a boy I used to collect hubcaps along the highway. The junk yard paid a buck and a half for spinners and a buck for all others. The road had once ended a half mile further on before the new federal highway had gone through. Now where the old gravel road ended, turning perpendicular to it a paved service road at ran along the interstate until ending at the clover leaf.

A short quarter of a mile before reaching that new pavement, Lynn’s truck turned right. About two hundred yards in sat the old white limestone farm house. Two barns remained but no longer did any of the wooden fencing which had once corralled the few head of cattle that her father had once raised. My SUV came to rest beside her father’s truck.

“Come on in,” she gestured as I got out and did a quick look around. I knew what I wanted to happen but I didn’t have a clue as to why she had asked me to stop over. I was curious, guilty of being horny and thought of nothing-ventured-nothing-gained.

The house didn’t disappoint me once inside the door. A beige formica kitchen table, complete with well worn red vinyl chairs sat off to the right. I watched once again as Lynn removed her jacket this time hanging it up on a peg behind the door accompanying an assortment of soiled jackets and various farmer hats. There was no mistaking the decor as that of early redneck. Though anyone with half a brain knew of it intellectually, as I looked about, what I witnessed drove home the fact that farming can be a hard life. There were good years and bad. For many, the good years rarely made up for the bad. Yet most plodded on. When the interstate came along two years prior, just after her father had passed, Lynn informed me that the same bank had sought to woo her into developing the northwest side of the cloverleaf. She had almost fallen into their financial trap if hadn’t been for the wise counsel of old man Schroder arguing against it.

Lynn had disappeared into the back of the house, leaving me to myself in the kitchen. Though it was old and plain, it was clean. Shoes had been taken off inside the door. A scorched tea pot sat on an old thirty-six inch gas stove with six burners, a warming oven and stained windowed main oven. Coffee pot was in the corner with the toaster. A double basin ceramic sink that needed to be replace along with the linoleum counter tops.

Peering into the next room sat an old brown leather recliner. It had obviously been her father’s favorite resting place. Lynn apparently had left it as something of a memorial. Hanging on the wall behind it was an impressive framed collection of arrowheads. I knew if one was diligent in such a thing, airheads could still be discovered in the area lying on the ground, especially in early spring in fields which had been turned the previous fall.

I heard her feet on the wooden floor above and then descending a staircase before appearing in that stark living room. I turned back and waited at the door. Walking with all the confidence of this-is-my-home-and-I-don’t-care-what-you-think-of-it, she paraded back into the kitchen. It was then that I realized my assessment of virgin Lynn had been rash.

“I couldn’t but help noticing your interest in these,” Lynn proudly boasted, flaunting her braless breasts hidden under a sleeveless blouse as she entered the room. “Now listen, Wayne, you have to promise me that you’ll never mention any of this to any of our classmates.” Lynn went on to explain something that I had heard rumors of but had never given much thought to…that our once quiet little farming community had, with the advent of spreading suburbia, sprouted a rather robust swinging commune. “Are you interested?” she asked continuing to flaunt her sheathed breasts.

Without waiting for a verbal answer, the sleeveless flannel blouse began popping open, one deliberate snap after another until she finally exposed fully her bounteous buxom beauties. Seeing the look on my face she laughed as hearty a laugh as I could ever have imagined parting her lips.

“If you can’t keep a secret, Mr. Wayne Chesterfield, you just turn around right now and head on back to your car. And if you ever mention see these, I will call you a liar to your face.”

I don’t know how long I stood there, mouth a gape. She was a year older than me but her breasts were as firm as any thirty year old, sagging only due to their weight. They were truly magnificent to behold. I doubted that even with two hands I would be unable to circumvent even the smallest of the two.

“Lynn! I don’t know what to say,” I smiled, frowned, hesitating added, “I never imagined….”

“And I want to keep it that way. I’m just that dumb, simple minded, poor virgin Lynn Mathius. Joshua is such an arrogant asshole. Don’t you agree? Was he that bad in school? I don’t remember.”

“I don’t think so. But then all the attention was given to his older brother, Aaron. I think being second born plus having a brother who was an all-state pitcher, Josh, never having any of his brother’s athletic prowess, I think he always felt as if he had to prove himself. And yes, he over does it. I confess, I get tired of listening to his never ending bravado. But that said, he’s okay.”

Lynn laughed again. “You can’t take your eyes off of them. How long have you been divorced?”

“Divorced? Well it’s been a while but my wife was flat chested so, truth be told, I’m the virgin when it comes to breast appreciation.”

“Come here,” she invited me, taking my hand, placing it on a bare breast. “My nipples are super sensitive. I’m one of the rare ones. I can actually have orgasms if you suck them properly.” About then I became conscious of my erection. “If you’re wondering and that sort of thing excites you, I’m a G cup. ‘Oh gee.’ Get it?” Again she laughed. I had never heard her laugh before. Before all this, she had just smiled, showing a bit of her irregular teeth as she did so.

“Well you haven’t turned and run so I’m imagining you’re going to keep my secret.” Lynn had always been the one of few words. Now it was me who just smiled and nodded. Lynn took my hand and led me past her father’s memorial and up the bare wood stairs to her room.

“After Walter died, I knocked out his wall and doubled the size of my room.” I looked about the room but it was the bed that caught my eye. It was old. Made of black walnut it had a large headboard with shelves. At the foot of the bed on each side were bed posts rising about eight or ten inches above the mattress level. Noticing my continued fascination with the bed, I watched Lynn as she walked past me and over to the end of her bed. Lifting her knee-length skirt, displaying that she wore nothing underneath it, she kept one foot on the floor while placing the other up on the bed.

“I pity you men. All you are able to do is pull your banana. We women have so many other options.” With that, licking her fingers then wetting her womanhood, she positioned herself over one of the end bed posts. The post was progressive in that there was the bulb on top shaped like an overly large pecan shell. It was smooth but the finish appeared to have been worn off it like an oft rubbed brass figure. Further down the post followed a crevasse then a ring, then another crevasse followed by a football shaped cylinder which had two rings in the center of it followed by another crevasse, ring, crevasse separation ending atop a three inch diameter, cross-cut acorn like affair before the square posted ran down to the floor. With eyes wide open, I watched as Lynn slowly worked back and forth as the large pecan disappeared inside her. Rising then gentling working back down further, she drove each section of the bed post deeper and deeper inside her dense haired pussy.

Having captured three quarters of the upper post, she looked up at me, smiled then confessed, “It takes me a while to take all of it.” Then she stood straight up, almost entirely off of her make shift dildo. Look back down, with both hands spreading her sex, she gradually impaled herself further and further until finally driving that dark wooden finger completely into her sop. She moaned. Sitting atop the cross-cut acorn, I could see her large dangling lips spread across the top of it. She cooed and sighed and moaned as she kept shifting her weight, working against the three inch acorn before it too disappeared. In total bewilderment as to what I was witnessing, I watched as she closed her eyes, shifting now sideways back and forth, lifting slightly before seating herself back down as she thrust forward and backward over and over, making that black wood glisten as a creamy white gel oozed out of her hairy cunt. “Play with my tits,” she commanded.

I never thought something would defray my attention from such a magnificent pair of tits. However, watching her drive all of that bed post inside her cunt, her breasts had completely lost my attention. Complying to her wishes, I stood behind her, sliding my hands in under her arms, cupping each breast. God they were heavy, One hand just wasn’t sufficient to the cause.

“Suck ‘m” was her next command. Truly, her nipples were sensitive to the touch.

Not only had my ex been small breasted but had she suffered inverted nipples. But Lynn’s nipples protruded further and got more rubbery as I sucked on each of them, nibbling and biting each before a loud moan sounded and Lynn began to quiver and shake uncontrollably. Her orgasm was almost demonic. Who would ever have guessed it of her? Her arms flailed as her back arched. Her head violently flopped forward and back while her breasts flopped every which way as her whole body gyrated on that wooden bed post. The woman loss all control over her body. Three consecutive times I watched as she unapologetically lost control.

I was still fully dressed when she suddenly rose up off that bed post. “Now fuck me, Wayne.” It was her third command as she sprawled back onto her bed, spreading her legs wide such that I could view every inch of her large lipped, sopping wet, gaping mop.

How long had it been? Four years? Five? And before the divorce, an other couple of years. Despite her self abusive impalement on that bed post, when I slid the head of my cock into that cream oozing cunt, it was met with resistance. Lynn’s pussy had tighten back up and the further I drove into it, the tighter it got. There was no way I was going to match the depth of that bed post but it didn’t matter. It only took a handful of thrust before I too began to moan.

“Fuck me, Wayne” she continued to demand. “Fill me with your cum. Don’t worry. I’m safe.”

Then it happened. I came hard. I lifted one of her legs and scissored her, driving myself in as far as I possible could as I let my explosion erupt within her. Then, as I was about to collapse on top of her, Lynn pushed me aside. Crawling back on to all fours before spinning around, face sitting her burping pussy on top of my face, she engulfed my cock with her mouth. Who the fuck would believe me even if I ever shockingly told someone how sex crazy our little, simpleton virgin Lynn was?

Before I left, she confessed that I was the first human being on the planet to see her orgasm. I was the first she had ever invited up to her room and most definitely the first to see her secret. Lynn gave me her cell number and told me anytime I wanted to stop back over to do it all again, as long as I kept our secret, she would let me suck and fuck her till my dying day. “All things come to those who wait?” Long I had waited to have a secret buxom fuck doll. Little Lynn was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.