In The Barn With Brad - Sex Stories

In The Barn With Brad

... woman now! See? I’ve even got tits!” Impulsively, I lift my t-shirt to show off my small, firm breasts. Brad chuckles appreciatively. “Yeah, kidd- Jodi,” he corrects himself, “You sure do. How old are you now, anyway?” “Thirteen and a half!” I declare proudly. “Well! Practically a grown woman!” He is teasing me. Angry, I wrestle him to the hay strewn floor and begin tickling him. For a few minutes he tolerates this, laughing. Suddenly, he flips me over, and before I know what’s happened, I’m flat on my back and Brad’s sitting on my chest. I stick out my tongue at him in mock anger, but I’m actually enjoying the attention and the closeness. I try to keep a stern face, but something catches my eye and I burst into uncontrollable laughter. Brad looks confused for a minute, then follows the direction of my gaze and flushes beet-red when he sees what I’m laughing at. He has forgotten to zip his shorts, and something soft and pink is peeking forlornly from between the zipper teeth. I’ve never seen a boy blush before, and the sight makes me laugh even harder. Swingers Gritting his teeth, Brad quickly stands and closes his pants. He looks angry. I am still sitting on the floor, gasping for breath. Finally, the alarming color begins fading from his cheeks and ears. Anxious to change the subject, I glance nervously around. The magazine has fallen out of his shirt during our brief scuffle, so I pick it up and begin flipping idly through the pages. The first part is sort of boring – ...

... letter mostly, and ads for a bunch of strange looking stuff. This soon gives way to the pictures, though, and I examine them with interest. Brad hovers beside me, looking over my shoulder. He still looks a little embarrassed. “So, what do you think?” he asks abruptly. “Well…they’re a little…intimidating…” My voice trails off weakly. He gives me an encouraging nod, so I continue. “I mean…look at those bodies! I wish I looked like that…” I sigh wistfully. “I’ll probably never have great tits like those…” “Hey…” Brad’s voice is warm and soothing. “There’s nothing wrong with small tits. I think yours are sorta cute…” As if to confirm his words, his hand slides under my shirt. His palm is rough and calloused against my skin. His touch sparks strange tremors inside me, and I shiver slightly, as if from a sudden breeze. Slowly, he circles my nipple with fingertips that seem to trail fire behind them. My nipples stiffen almost painfully under his lazy caress. With his other hand, he turns the page. A loud snorting sound interrupts us. Brad jumps up guiltily, stuffing the magazine back under his shirt. “Relax,” I whisper. “It’s just Sinbad.” I lead him to the window, pointing out the familiar sight of Sinbad, our bull, mounting one of the cows. Today he has selected Margaret, a fat reddish cow who placidly ignores him. Sinbad’s penis dangles grotesquely, all pink and slimy looking. I pick up one of the rocks I keep by the window and throw it at him. He ignores it, as usual. The is a ...