Indian Girl Next Door

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It only paid minimum wage, but I felt that I was doing my part to ease mother’s financial burden. Between mother and me we were able to buy a few presents for Christmas. Mom and I knew the true meaning of Christmas, and also knew there was no Santa Claus. We decided to keep that bit of truth to ourselves, because we wanted to make sure Bryan still believed in the magic of Christmas. Many nights I would hear mom crying and knew it was because she was lonely. One day I asked her, ‘Mom, maybe you should look for a decent man who will not treat you like daddy did.’ She just bowed her head and said, Amanda, I really don’t think I can be happy with anyone else, especially after what you father did to me. I just don’t trust men anymore.’ I didn’t push the subject and wished there was something I could do to change her attitude. I prayed that one some day, a man could convince her that all men aren’t bad. However, in the back of my head, I wasn’t so sure myself, because something happen. “Oh God, Alex. I am so filled. Fuck me now, Alex, fuck me.” I was like a crazy man when she spoke like that. I had hoped to take it slow and gentle, but this old bitch was driving me crazy. I started pounding into her. I was slamming my dick into her and I could feel my balls slapping her ass. “Ooohhh, Alex, harder. Make me cum, Alex, make me cum.”This old bitch was driving me over the edge. I was pounding her like a fright train and she was asking for more. I could feel my balls contracting and I knew I was going to explode. I put my arms beside her and propped myself up to look at her. She had her eyes closed and her mouth was open. There were deep moans coming from deep inside her. I looked down to see her nipples standing up on her flattened breasts. I leaned to the left and with my right hand I reached down and began to pinch her left nipple. “That’s it Alex, pinch my nipple and make me come.” Hearing her say that was all I needed and I pushed hard into her and felt my balls.
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“I’m Vern.”Vern introduced himself as the herd moved up the trail, calmly across behind him and toward the loafing shed. The farmer’s wife had told me Vern was their permanent employee, the “best capable of the retarded men”. She said Vern had the mentality of about a twelve year old. He was a big guy and his true age I guessed about 30 something. He was apparently the brightest of his work gang and assumed their leader.He wore a cap very well worn and kind of permanently squashed to close fit his head. It appeared he perhaps used his head for some function outside the norm and the cap was dingy green-brown, essence of cow poop. His clothing was dark and darker in spots, stained apparently from hard work. He had big hands and forearms that made him look like Pop eye.He was polite. I was really relieved I could talk to somebody who seemed normal enough to me. I asked him about what was going to happen next and he told about milking without too many details. He said I could just follow.

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