Like Father, Like Son - Sex Stories

Like Father, Like Son

I grew up on a ranch in central Montana, which meant that I didn't get to see many folks very often. So it wasn't odd that my s****r Christy and I were pretty close. She was two years younger than me, but that didn't mean a thing on the ranch. We both had chores and they were to be done. Period. If they were hard, or dirty, or whatever, that just plain didn't matter. You just did them. Daddy had been raised in some kind of religious commune back east, and had come west when it got raided by the Feds for some reason. He didn't much like to talk about that part of his life. He met Momma there and they got married after they bought the ranch. You know how people who have been married a long time start to look alike? Daddy and Momma were like that. If you didn't know them you might think they were b*****r and s****r. She was a lot younger than him, though. Around our place clothing was functional. What I mean by that was we didn't dress for fashion, but for whatever kind of thing we were doing. If you were going to be rustling steers out of the brush, you wore clothes that would protect you from the brush. If you were mending fence in the heat of the day, you protected yourself from the sun, but only wore enough to do that. So if you were at home, and the weather was nice, and you were doing homework or something, why wear clothes at all? And we didn't, mostly, around the house. Neither did Momma or Daddy. So I knew what naked women looked like. I also knew that Daddy got boners ...

... just like I did. But whenever he got one Momma would giggle and they'd go off in the bedroom. When they came out he didn't have a boner any more, and it stayed down. Mine were another matter. Mine lasted a good long time unless I rubbed my peter and got it to shoot off. After about two or three times of doing that it would finally wilt a little. We went to school by either getting on the big yellow school bus that came around at about five in the morning, or by riding some of our stock horses, if the weather wasn't too bad. Christy and I preferred riding when we could, because we could go cross country, which saved us an hour bus ride in the morning and got us home an hour early so we could do chores before it got completely dark. I never thought of us as being lonely, or stand offish, or whatever. We didn't see people much, and when we did there wasn't much to talk about. I found out later that lots of people thought we were shy or something. Like the time in my senior year when my friend Bobby told me I should ask Melissa to the Harvest Dance. It was early September, and the weather was about as perfect as it can get in Montana. I'd never been on a date or anything, but I was interested in Melissa. So I went up to her to ask her, and all of a sudden I couldn't talk! It was the damndest thing. She was so pretty, and she looked at me with one eyebrow raised and a half smile on her face, like "What?!" Finally I blurted out "Dance!" or something equally stupid. She laughed and ...