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Rebekka of Taylor Farm

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The summer of 1973 was to be my last year delivering the morning newspaper, a job that didn’t pay much but was better than nothing for a high school student. Since I was going off to college in the fall The Schenectady Gazette would have to find another desperate for cash kid to pedal around the rural roads of Duanesburg, New York in rain, sleet, snow and cold.

I could have driven around the route for the last couple years after getting my license, but with the price of gas I might not have broken even financially if I did that, and besides the exercise was good for me and probably helped me stay as skinny as I was. If I had a virtue it was the fact that while I might not have been all that handsome or brilliant, I wasn’t fat.

Since the houses out in the sticks where I lived were spaced far apart it took me quite a while to make all the 30 or so stops, and besides the 7 mornings a week delivering at the crack of dawn I also had to make another trip around the circuit to collect for the papers.

That was a pain far worse than delivering because no matter what day or time when I collected, I could never catch everybody at home, and sometimes when they were home they claimed they didn’t have the 50 or 75 cents at the time.

Like it or not it was part of the job so that was how I spent this Saturday in July, counting the days until I went off to college, and one of my last stops was the Taylor Farm owned by an elderly couple who had been customers all the years I had the route.

The old geezer was kind of gruff but his wife was a sweet old lady who always offered me a home baked cookie when I collected, and after she would pay me for the week and I would give her the little tab that served as a receipt, she would look to make sure her husband wasn’t around before pressing a shiny dime in my palm.

“Get yourself a Sarsparilla Timmy,” Mrs. Taylor would tell me, and I would thank her even though I don’t think you could find one of those back then, but I did put the money aside and it would all come in handy come fall.

As I pedaled up the gravel driveway towards the farm, which used to be a big production but had shrunk over the years as the Taylors aged, I saw that their old rusty truck was gone. I knew there was a Farmer’s Market open now in town, so maybe that where they were, but I went to the screen door anyway and tapped hoping that Mrs. Taylor stayed home.

“Who are you?” came the voice from the other side of the screen, and when I peered through the screen I saw a very unfamiliar face.

“Paper boy,” I said, hating the term because I was 18 now, but the title “paper man” sounded even worse. “Uh – fifty cents.”

“Why do you want to give me fifty cents?” the girl said with a toothy and goofy grin.

“You want to give me the money – for the paper,” I told her, knowing she was busting my balls but since she was a girl I didn’t let on because girls were kinda rare in these parts.

“How come your dumb ass paper doesn’t have Doonesbury in it?” she asked.

“How do I know? I don’t print it, I just deliver it,” I countered.

“Dick Tracy sucks eggs,” the snotty girl informed me. “And if it wasn’t for Peppermint Patty, Peanuts would bite the big one.”

“Who are you?” I asked, not sure whether I loved or hated this opinionated girl who I could not really see in the darkness behind the screen.

“Your nose will get dirty,” she said when my nose brushed against the netting.

“I can’t see you.”

“I can’t let you in. Grandma would have kittens.”

“Well at least I have an idea of who you are. I don’t want to come in but why don’t you come out?” I countered. “Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”

“Rebecca,” she said as she moved towards the door. “You said your name is Paper Boy?”

“No Becky, my name is Tim Hudson,” I said as I eyeballed the lanky girl who was as redheaded as a girl could be, and the freckles that were around her nose also covered her bare arms and shoulders which the old fashioned dress she wore exposed.

“Rebecca!” she said very curtly. “Not Becky. You’ll never even get to first base if you ever call me Becky again.”

“First base?” I asked.

“Yeah, and if you ever write me a love note or anything spell my name R-E-B-E-K-K-A,” I was instructed.

“I like your name but that’s a strange spelling,” I said.

“I know. It’s not the way it is on my birth certificate. I invented it.”

“Oh,” I said while staring through the screen at the small bumps on her chest. “Well, I won’t be sending you any love notes.”

“Got a girlfriend?”

“Not right now, but I’m 18,” I said proudly. “Not interested in going to jail though.”

“What’s that mean?” Rebekka asked.

“You’re not – I mean…” I mumbled, not wanting to say that I figured her for 13 or 14 even if she was kinda tall.

“Not 18 you mean? Fuck you Timmy. I just turned 19 if you must know,” she informed me, and then followed by eyes and added, “Just because I don’t have big tits?”

“I – uh – er,” I stuttered, used to being set back escort sincan on my heels like this, but not by a girl.

“Nobody ever complained about them,” Rebekka told me as she hefted the apple sized globes through her clothes and made me wish I could see better. “My boyfriend back home likes them fine.”

“I wasn’t complaining, just admiring them,” I replied as my eyes went over to the blazing red hair that was exposed when the girl grabbed her boobs. “Your armpit hair? Is that his idea?”

“He likes everything about me,” Rebekka informed me as she raised her arm to allow me a very good look at the swirl of hair that filled the deep hollow under her skinny arm. “If you don’t like it don’t look.”

“I know, but I’m looking aren’t I? We had a couple girls at school that thought they were hippies,” I noted, not adding that they really excited me, and when I had confessed to my best friend John that it turned me on, he admitted he liked it too and I know he would be going nuts if he could see Rebekka.

“I’m not a hippie, I’m Rebekka,” she said. “I’m a free spirit who goes where the wind takes me.”

“Where are you from?” I asked, and when she said Poughkeepsie I nodded and said, “They have a nut house down there don’t they? My mother always tells my father that he’s driving her there sometimes.”

“Yeah, there’s a state mental hospital down there but I escaped,” she cracked, making me smile despite myself.

“How come you’re out here? Visiting Mr. and Mrs. Taylor?” I asked while trying not to look at her like .

“If you call two months a visit,” Rebekka replied, obviously not happy about it. “My old lady stuck me out here for the summer as punishment. I’m not sure for who, me or my grandparents.”

“Oh yeah? What did you do, steal lipstick from the drugstore?” A couple girls in my graduating class got arrested for that last month.”

“No, my mother came home and caught me and my boyfriend fucking, so she’s pissed,” Rebekka said as she said as she seemed to be grabbing the ledge of the door above her, reaching high as if she was putting on a show for me.

“Oh,” I said.

“You have heard of fucking out here haven’t you?”

“Yeah, just like we don’t have cable TV yet but we have heard of that,” I said, squeamish about swearing in front of a girl even though she had no such problem cursing like a guy.

“Ever do it?”

“What do you think?” I responded as arrogantly as I could manage.

“I didn’t think so,” Rebekka snapped. “You got a big dick?”

“You aren’t very shy are you?”

“That’s the non-answer answer. So far all I know about you is that you’re Timmy Hudson and you’re a virgin with a little dick,” she purred in that wise-ass tone I was having a love/hate relationship with.

“Tim, not Timmy,” I corrected her. “I’m not a virgin and I don’t know if I have a big dick, but it isn’t little.”

“Oooh – I made Tim Hudson mad,” Rebekka said and then laughed.

“When are you going to stop posing like that?” I asked since it was clear that she was flaunting her hairy armpits for my benefit.

“When you stop looking,” she countered. “Or at least admit you like it. That bulge in your jeans gave that away.”

“I like it. It’s different. You’re different,” I admitted.

“My boyfriend back home? His cock is so big, it’s the size of a baby’s arm holding an apple,” I was told.

“Where do you come up with this stuff?” I asked in exasperation, unable to hide my amusement.

“That baby’s arm thing I stole from Lenny Bruce, the comedian,” Rebekka educated. “Everything else comes out of me is pure Rebekka.”

“You’re something else,” I said. “Too bad that you have a boyfriend and that you’re only up here for the summer.”

“Why? You like me?”

“Sure. I think you’re cute and you make me laugh,” I confessed. “Even if you have more hair under your arms than I do.”

“You like hair?” Rebekka asked, and I guess I shrugged and nodded so she grabbed the bottom of her ruffled dress and after looking down the driveway to make sure her grandparents weren’t coming, lifted it up slowly. “I’ve got a lot of it if you do dig it.”

The dress kept getting lifted, up her slender and pale legs until her burnt orange bush came into view, and after that dress went up to her belly button I got to see the whole thing.

“Ever see a girl with a pussy as hairy as mine?” Rebekka asked, and since I had lost my ability to speak I simply shook my head no. “When we would change clothes in gym class when I looked around I could tell I must have a real hairy one.”

Most of my knowledge came from magazines, but of the three I had actually seen Rebekka’s was easily the furriest. Her triangle was barely recognizable, and the hair – a darker burnt orange than the rest of her – not only spilled onto her inner thighs but there was also a streak that went up to her belly button.

“I like it – like it a lot,” I admitted.

“Do you want to touch me – play around?” Rebekka asked, and as I nodded I suggested the barn.

“Okay,” Rebekka ankara escort replied, and after she closed the front door of her grandparents house we walked down the porch steps.

Outside in the sunlight I could see the sassy hippie girl much better, and while I wasn’t one to judge, the screen door had hid a lot of the parts of her that weren’t so flattering, crushing the image I had of her as a gorgeous girl from the big city of Poughkeepsie. She must have had a bad case of acne at one time and while it had mostly cleared she still had faint reminders on her cheeks. She also had big lips and almost a uni-brow. All of this had no effect on my desire however.

Maybe she realized what I was thinking because out from behind the screen she was less attractive but also less of a wise ass and more – well – likable.

She jumped when I took her hand, but her damp paw squeezed mine in return as we made our way to what was a very musty barn filled with just about everything but a bed unfortunately. Rebekka closed the side door behind her and opened up the shutters of a window in the back, letting in a little light in and allow me to see more of the clutter.

“Well Tim?” Rebekka said as she stood there with her hands on her hips.

“The dress is kinda cool but doesn’t really seem like you.”

“It’s my grandmother’s,” Rebekka explained. “She dragged a bunch of shit out and had me try it on and so for shits and giggles I put it on.”

“I bet you look better with it off,” I suggested.

“You have to earn that Tim,” she snapped but moved closer to me so I moved too and put my arms around her waist.

We kissed, very tentatively at first, and I immediately realized that those large puffy lips could really kiss. As our kiss continued I felt her hands come around and grab my ass, squeezing it and grinding into me, so I did the same and right away Rebekka pushed me away.

“Hey! You were doing that to me,” I protested.

“So? You going to copy everything I do?” Rebekka cracked. “Be original.”

A trifle annoyed, I reached out and grabbed her breasts through the dress, expecting a slap or a protest but instead she just stood there and let me squeeze her bra-less with her hands on her hips so I kept honking the little hooters and felt her nipples get hard as I did.

“Well? What do you think?”

“Nice,” I sighed. “Perfect handfuls, and I can feel your nipples getting hard.”

“Duh. What did you expect?” Rebekka asked.

“I dunno.”

“How long are you going to do this?”

“Until you make me stop I suppose,” was my reply, to which Rebecca once again raised her arms and linked her hands behind her head. “You pose like that a lot?”

“It makes me look glamorous, like Marilyn Monroe,” Rebekka suggested, and while she was no Marilyn Monroe, she was letting me play with her boobs all I wanted. “Besides, when I do this I like the way you start to get all twitchy and spastic.”

“I do not,” I protested meekly.

“I think it’s kind of cute.”

“Well in that case, I guess I do like it,” I admitted, making Rebekka smile a smile that showed a slightly chipped tooth and white teeth, so for the hell of it I took my hands off her breasts and moved them over, letting my fingers gently rake through the fine burnt orange hair under her arms.

“How’s that for original?” I asked as the girl’s body shivered a little.

“Not really. My boyfriend back home rubs his cock under my arm and cums in it,” she countered.

“This the guy with the baby’s arm for a dick?” I asked.

“The same. Don’t be bitter about it. Lots of girls like guys with little dicks,” Rebekka said as she stepped back from my touching.

“I told you it’s not little.”

“Show me. Take your jeans off.”

Despite the inherent danger of taking clothes off in the Taylor’s shed, I did as she asked, and I guess I wasn’t all that nervous because when my underwear came off my dick sprang around as stiff as could be, looking as good as it ever would.

“Well?” I challenged, and she shrugged.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” Rebekka sniffed and then noted, “it curves a little to the right.”

“I guess,” I replied as I grabbed the head and tried and failed to straighten the bend out, and as I did the redhead shifted her weight from foot to foot. “You have to pee?”

“No,” she mumbled as she seemed to be pondering something. “You want to ball me?”

“Well sure,” I responded, but in between the two words I said Rebekka was already pulling her Grandma’s dress up and over her head and stood there naked as a jaybird.

Her body was a work in progress with her smallish breasts looking a little lost on her frame, but they would probably fill out. As for the triangle of red hair that completely obscured her opening, that was definitely fully developed, and even crept onto the insides of her thighs.

“You’re really sexy,” I managed.

“I know,” Rebekka replied as she laid her dress onto the ground and dropped down onto it, spreading her lean thighs and giving me an amazing view of her etimesgut escort bayan furry grotto.

I hesitated while looking down on the crazy girl, savoring the sight of a naked girl in the daylight, a first for me. As far as firsts, Rebekka must have sensed my apprehension and of course didn’t hold her tongue.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” she snickered up at me.

“No!” I barked, and that was true.

If Rebekka wanted a testimonial I could have referred her to Arlene Krause who experienced every second of my life of lovemaking one June night, about 45 seconds of feverish humping that ended way too soon. Fortunately Arlene was too drunk to fully remember it, although maybe she did because she rebuffed my future advances.

“Well? Rebekka purred as she spread her legs even wider and then linked her hands behind her neck for further enticement, not that any was needed.

“No foreplay,” she said when after I knelt between her legs I seemed unsure of whether to do something else. “I’m so freaking horny I can’t wit, and I’m wet as hell.”

“I don’t have a rubber,” I complained.

“Don’t need one. The pill. Come on!”

She was impatient and I was incompetent as I fumbled a bit poking my dick in the jungle, but fortunately Rebekka was just as wet as she claimed so I found the opening with my slender dick that was nothing like the baby’s arm she was used to, and maybe the curve tickled her fancy because she squealed with delight as I impaled her

In and out and don’t cum. That’s what I kept telling myself as we humped on the dress and the dusty floor, and I was even counting to myself hoping I would last longer than 45 seconds this time. I did manage that, but I don’t know how much longer because after listening to Rebekka yelp and curve and encourage my very thrust she let out a wild howl and practically snapped my dick off as her pussy clenched around me.

That had me spurting away inside of her, and after I stopped cumming and started to go limp Rebekka’s pussy forced me out of her, leaving me drained and deliriously happy. For her part Rebekka seemed pleased too.

“Pretty good Tim,” she commented as I eased up off of her. “This summer might not suck after all.”

The summer did not suck, as Rebekka put it. In fact, it might have been the best summer of my life. We managed to get together every single day until booked for college, and as she told me after that first day, I should do what I wanted and if she didn’t like it she would let me know.

“Be original,” Rebekka had insisted, and while I know I didn’t invent anything, by summer’s end there wasn’t a bit of Rebekka I hadn’t licked or otherwise given affection. As for where we did it, that answer was easy. Everywhere and anywhere. Inside the Taylor’s house when they were out, down at my house when my folks were out, and just about everyplace outside that was out of sight. Rebekka even took to crawling out her window at night after her grandparents were in bed, and we spent a couple night playing under the stars, even during a thunderstorm.

Something that was close to being a highlight for me happened when we were fully dressed and I got to introduce Rebekka to my friend John. While I never went into many details he knew about my new friend because I was never around to hang out with him any more.

The three of us were hanging around the park near the creek and I managed to ask Rebekka something when John ran to the bathroom, and although she had been oddly nervous and reserved around John, when I asked her to do it for me she agreed to it.

It was a silly thing that only involved her reaching up and grabbing the limb of the tree we were under, but when John got an eyeful he turned into a spastic and tongue-tied kid. In other words, a lot like me. Rebekka, for her part, seemed to enjoy John’s reaction to her natural beauty and after when we were alone she admitted something.

“You were showing me off to your friend,” she claimed. “Not just the part about me showing him my armpits either. You seemed like you were proud to be with me.”

“Well duh,” I responded in her manner.

“You guys share the same fetishes?” she teased. “I figured not many of the hillbilly girls around her even had razors.”

“We aren’t hillbillies. This is like a suburb – I guess,” giving Duanesburg more credit than it deserved.

“Your friend John? He’s kinda cute. Not as cute as you,” Rebekka added. “You two ever party together?”

“We drank beer under the railroad trestle a lot.”

“No Tim, I mean party like sharing a girl. Threesomes?”

“You mean me and him and a girl?” I asked, and after Rebekka nodded I said, “No. No way.”

That was the answer because it would have been rare for any girl to like either of us, much less want to deal with both of us ay, but I said I wasn’t into that sort of thing. In all honesty, I didn’t want to share Rebekka with anybod for fear she would like the other guy better.

“Too bad. Threesomes can be wild,” Rebekka informed me.

“You’ve done that?” I asked in amazement, wondering how crazy things things were big cities like Poughkeepsie. “With two guys?”

“Sure. Two guys, or another guy and girl,” Rebekka cracked and was amused by my jaw dropping. “Why? Do you think I’m a pig?’

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