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Big is Better
Baby Baby Do Me One More Time
|It was customary that every family in our community participated in these occasional building projects. This was especially common when there were newlyweds involved. Understand that it's just a very Amish cultural thing. Rachael was by every outward appearance a reserved, pious and chased young Amish woman. She wore the traditional black woman's prayer-cap on her head indicating that she was single. Not so obviously however, she also had a very lustful 'eye for the boys' apparently, and never passed an opportunity to raise her long skirts up with abandon whenever she could find a hard male outlander's pole to mount, I suspect.
I'd been working steadily all afternoon framing the new barn with the other men, and I'd worked up a real sweat with a thirst to match. Usually the boys did the high-up pegging work in the roof rafters while the men assembled the sections on the ground. I assume that Rachael had targeted me as suitable 'stud material' sometime earlier in the day. Why she'd selected me and not one of the older boys, well I'm not really sure. Maybe she'd taken notice of the enticing full contour that formed in the crotch of my pants whenever I was squatting down knees-to-chest on a high beam, pegging the new joists together. In some specific situations I was still 'hard to conceal' even in baggy pants. But no matter.
I clambered down to fetch a drink for myself. Rachael approached me as I walked towards a large table loaded with refreshments that was set out on the grassy lawn. She extended a glass of cold lemonade to me and was smiling... I'd say invitingly. She feigned some concocted excuse that she needed some help from "a big, strong man" with something or other, just to get me out in the barn with her alone. I dutifully - if somewhat naively - went off to help the fair young maiden in exerting whatever force my virile teenage manhood could to assist her. But it wasn't my strength that she apparently was seeking though, I would quickly discover. As we turned the corner out of site from the rest, she moved in very close to my side. The full-court press was on.
Taking my hand in hers and with her eyelashes batting away, she coyly asked me, "Do you think I'm pretty?"
"Why yes - Of course!" I answered completely automatically, ever the kind and polite boy.
I noticed also that as our arms swung hand-in-hand, the back of her hand was making very regular contact with my crotch. The fact is that I started to spring one completely automatically. In truth, literally any manual stimulation of my male equipment almost instantly produced that reaction. It strangely never mattered particularly to my cock exactly who or even what was doing the stimulating, either. It was as if it always had a mind of its own. Sometimes just going about my usual daily chores, I noticed that my baggy overalls would still rub me in just that 'right way' and I'd get hard, sometimes cumming right in my pants. I didn't even have to touch myself. So with just the very littlest amount of contact or rubbing, I always got an erection.
Just a few steps into the barn however, Rachael suddenly transformed from the chased Amish girl virgin into the chasing wanton women that she really was - and what she was wantin' was my pecker stuffed into her pussy - and real fast. A virgin she definitely was not. So down into the hay we went, with Rachael's hand working non-stop on my boner like she was manning the bilge pump handle of a sinking ship. It definitely worked for me.
"Yeh, just like I thought.. A really big one," I heard her mutter as she continued to raise my mast.
In the blink of an eye, she unbuttoned my pants with speed of a consummate professional, and yanked them down to my knees. Then to my complete disbelief, she produced a box of condoms from somewhere - probably from one of her dress pockets. I was amazed because I didn't think that condoms were even sold anywhere in the surrounding towns, and I wondered just where a sweet Amish girl would even acquire such possessions.
She opened the box, ripped one open and handed it to me. "Here, do you know what this is?"
"Sure I do," I said, all-so-confidently.
The fact is, I knew what it was alright - I'd heard about them from the outlanders in school. I'd just never really seen one before, let alone used one.
"Good then," she replied coyly. "Put it on that big fat dick of yours, then show me what a real man you are."
The words just did not seem to go at all with this perfectly-dressed vision of Amish chastity in front of my eyes.
Actually, I struggled and struggled- and then struggled some more- to get the damn thing on me during the entire time she was dropping her skirts and undressing. God it was like this awfully tight vice on my dick. Now buck-naked, Rachael rolled onto her back with leg spread wide apart, her pussy all wet and wildly waiting for me to just stuff her. And oh, did I- OK, I admit it. I try for a long, long time in fact - I really did.
"Come on - FUCK me with that huge thing, stud," she demanded, and in English no less. She repeated it again and again, as if she was possessed and needed to be exorcised of her own demon - or maybe at least beat it to death- using me as her holy weapon of choice. And she was intent - absolutely relentless! I lunged and I pushed. I thrust and parried. I drilled like a North Sea oil rig. Seemed to me that her eyes were bigger than her ... cunt. Every push seemed to meet an insurmountable resistance. Rachael had worked up an incredible sweat too, and began to take on more of the active rather than passive role now.
"Wait a minute...."
Then she rolled onto her back.
"Wait a minute..."
Then, onto she rolled onto her front.
"Wait a minute..."
Then, she tried to impale herself from on top of me. Meanwhile, my cock was acting completely on it's own behalf, anyway. I seemed to be able to watch all this somewhat detached from what was happening, and in sheer amazement at the degree of her lustiness actually. She was a cowgirl just born to ride. But try as she did, she could just not seem to get me inside of her. And that unfortunately wasn't all of the problem either. To make matters even worse, the damn rubber would be thereon my cock one second, and then suddenly just be gone the next, like magic- or maybe more like some real voodoo curse cast on me.
She panted in frustration, "Where'd your rubber go?"
"I don't know!" I grunted , and then I'd reach for the box of condoms and struggle to put on yet another one. God those things felt so uncomfortably tight! And then we'd change positions and then same damn thing would happen. It was gone again in the blink of an eye.
"Where'd your rubber go now?" she said with a much more puzzled, quizzical expression, realizing finally that something very odd was going on indeed.
"I DON'T K-N-O-W ," I said in total exasperation. "It was just there a second ago - honest!"
Rachael was getting progressively more impatient when I'd have to break off the assault and struggle to get yet another rubber on my totem pole. In total, I must have had at least 4 rubbers disappear just like Houdini on me, in exactly the same way. It was there one second and gone the next. This was to be my very first hint at just how really incompatible latex and I really were.
Eventually, we just gave up exhausted- and both of us probably equally as sore, too. I felt like I'd been trying to ram a torpedo into a mouse hole.
This fiasco of back-to-back failed attempts at 'hetero' intercourse was to be my first and very last attempt. It was a total disaster. I was hopelessly humiliated that I couldn't manage to 'do it' with her. I felt it was somehow all my fault- and I was a failure. And as I had more time to think about it all afterwards, deep inside I was revisited - even haunted again - by that old thought that I was really just some kind of circus freak.
I was so traumatized, in fact, that I never had sex again while I lived in Lancaster County. Even though I had the sex drive of the whole Dallas Cowboy Team combined, along with the gonads of a prize stud bull, my experience with Gabe was never to be repeated with another man while I was in high school. That was going to be almost 5 long and lonely years, too. I would graduate high school essentially as I had entered it- a shy, self-conscious and still naive young man, though not perhaps quite as naive as I once was. I knew I was probably 'a homo'. I knew that my experience with Gabe had left an indelible legacy with me- new feelings that I could not put out of my mind. I even had fantasies for the first time that someday I might find a REAL stud of a man to call my very own- some guy I could love and who could maybe love me. I also knew that it would never happen if I remained within the Amish society, but at least I had a plan now.
I did not waste the rest of my high school years. I was a bright and intelligent guy and got good grades rather easily. Yep - straight "A's, or just about. My brains were going to be my ticket out of the 'dark ages' of the Lancaster county of Pennsylvania and propel me into the REAL world. And (Thank you Sweet Jesus), I had a good growth spurt (finally) in high school and at least ended up at 5' 10", certainly not what I'd hope for - I was never going to be a big guy - but I wasn't complaining anymore either. My boy's body had turned definitely into a man's body, and one with at least some attractive attributes - those being wide shoulders and very narrow hips. I was a chip off the 'ol block apparently.
I worked my butt off academically to make damn sure that I would get accepted at a college- and hopefully, even a prestigious one in some large metropolitan area. In my senior year, all of my hard work paid off beyond my hopes. Not only did I get accepted at a college but I also even had my pick - and with a full scholarship, no less.
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