Culvert Mozart Lane - chapter 1 - Sex Stories

Culvert Mozart Lane - chapter 1

... kept for many months, or even a year in the coolest corner of the cellar. By Christmas, the yellow cheese we made in the spring had the flavor of sharp cheddar. We poked lots of holes in some of the white cheese and left it in the open air for two days before sealing it, and half a year later it was a soft and tasty blue cheese. It was excellent in salads or on burgers or crackers.

The first spring we were together, I caught a bunch of baby perch and sunfish with a net and put them in the pond. The boys enjoyed fishing close to home the next year. The fish kept reproducing themselves, until we got a terribly cold winter in the early 60’s. The house was at the top of another hill. It was a chore to walk the hundred yards from the house to the barn and back, climbing or descending about forty feet each time, but the distance and elevation change kept away most of the farm smell and flies. A large machinery shed was near the house to the northwest, abating most of the prevailing wind. There was also a small family graveyard on the other side of the shed. The oldest of the headstones was ‘Clarence McDolan 1801-1832 Kilt by Injuns, Blackhawk War’.

On the happier side of life, I had wonderful experiences the two nights a week or so my wife wanted to ‘make whoopie’. Thankfully when she wasn’t fully in the mood, she was willing to ‘pop my top’ by hand once or twice a week. I understood when she told me she didn’t want it near her face. For the first two years she lived up to ...

... her promise I’d never go without more than two nights in a row, but like most young men I wanted it every night. I yearned for more but respected her wishes. She scolded me any time I ‘handled my needs’ myself.

Eventually she was down to once weekly ‘top popping’ and even less ‘whoopie’, so I went small game hunting frequently as an excuse and fixed my problem alone in the woods. I was a skillful hunter and brought back squirrels or rabbits a few times a week, plus turkey and deer each autumn. I had a good fishing spot on a river and brought home perch, walleye, catfish, or pike when the family was bored of wild game. I absolutely love the flaky texture and delicious taste of walleye. It’s a pity they’re so scarce now.

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When my best pal Jacob got his discharge and came home from West Germany in ’46, he had nasty-looking scars on his left hand and was missing a fingertip. I asked about it and he said, “They gave me a purple heart and a bronze star, but all I did was pull two guys from a burning airplane. Anybody woulda’ done the same.” I disagreed about “anybody”. I wasn’t sure if I had that kind of courage, and knew a few guys that certainly didn’t.

As quite a happy coincidence, he bought the farm next to ours. It was set up for hogs and chickens instead of dairy cows, which was quite convenient for us. We traded pork, chicken, and eggs for beef, cheese, milk, and butter. Banks were quite accommodating to soldiers returning from the war, so he bought forty acres of ...