The Story of Becky Jo

This story occurred during my earliest days with Jamie (see Jamie stories for background), about the time we'd first met. We'd met and were seeing each other fairly regularly, but were not boyfriend and girlfriend. I liked her, but she had some tendencies and issues that I didn't like. I met Becky Jo about the same time. After about 6 months Becky Jo went off the deep end, and I quit seeing her all together. She and I were never what you'd call boyfriend and girlfriend; not even close really. So I juggled the two, without ever having any intention of staying with either of them.

Yeah, Jamie could be fun and we had some good times and she had a nasty streak to her, which I later learned was more than a little perverted. She was also a psychology major in college and, after graduation, entered into a graduate program in which she specialized in abnormal psychology, focusing on aberrant sexuality. She came up with some pretty wild ideas. Many of them were interesting and fun. But, many more were just plain weird - to the point that I didn't want anything to do with them. Still, when she'd get that wild glint in her eye, I knew something was coming, probably something I'd like.

Early on in my relationship with Jamie I'd also met this chick named Becky-Jo. Yep, that was her real name - Ok, very close to her real name, don't want anybody suing me. She lived on a farm with her divorced mom and her grandparents (who actually owned the farm). She was pretty cute, with medium length, very light blonde hair, nice little titties, a beautiful smile and funny looking round eye-glasses (think: John Denver).

I didn't seek Becky-Jo out. I can't even remember how we met, but it was around the time when I'd first met Jamie. Becky-Jo somehow developed a knack for showing up at my cabin when Jamie was there. I don't know how she'd know when Jamie was there, she just started showing up, with uncanny timing. My cabin was at the end of a long, dead-end canyon and Becky-Jo's grandparents lived on a farm at the bottom of the canyon, nowhere near the road heading up. I always figured she had a friend, who lived up the canyon, that'd call her when she'd see Jamie's white Mustang Fastback (GT 350 Fastback that Daddy bought for her). Who knows? She didn't show up every time Jamie was there, but pretty damn often, and usually within minutes of Jamie's arrival.

Anyway, she'd show up, and the tension in the air, between those two chicks was palpable. I wasn't in love with either of them and I thought it was funny as hell. Sometimes I'd intentionally slip in little remarks, just to spur it on a little. Becky Jo was shameless and she'd make catty remarks like "you can just feel the negative energy in here." Jamie had a short temper and those remarks would piss her off to no end.

Of course, even as a guy that was fairly clueless about how women interacted with each other, especially when another guy is involved, I could tell that Becky-Jo made those comments just to piss Jamie off. And, it worked! When Jamie got mad, she had this birthmark that you couldn't normally see. Except when she got mad and her blood pressure went up, this red "V" shaped mark would appear right between her eyebrows and up onto part of her forehead.

Whenever Becky-Jo was there, that mark glowed like a beacon in the night. I thought it was funny and I think Becky-Jo thought it was funny, but Jamie hated her guts and didn't think it was funny at all. Even before I'd picked up on it, Jamie knew that Becky-Jo was after me. Becky-Jo would show up on regular intervals, hang around just long enough to really piss Jamie off, then leave. After a few of these visits, when she'd leave she'd make vaguely suggestive sexual remarks to me, and she started kissing me on the cheek and whispering things in my ear.

Of course, that made Jamie furious. But, we weren't an item. We weren't in a steady relationship, so she was just a girlfriend to me, but one with no commitments or strings. I have to admit, after awhile, I used to look forward to the whole dynamic between the two girls - it was pretty damn funny.

When I realized that Becky-Jo was interested in me, I wasn't really all that interested in her. She had some weird mannerisms. Plus, she usually dressed in jeans and plaid cowgirl shirts that were baggy on her and certainly not very flattering. She dressed more like a boy and rarely wore any makeup. In fact, her clothes were so baggy and unflattering, the first time I saw her without clothes, I was completely shocked at what was hidden under those dirty farm clothes.

So, when you combined her farm clothes with the funny glasses and a bit of an attitude, she just wasn't my gig. Still, I liked her enough as a friend and, I admit, even if it was mean, I really liked watching her punch Jamie's buttons! She was good at it and Jamie would get so pissed. What can I say, I wasn't in love with either of them and what guy doesn't like watching two chicks fight over him?

One day, Becky-Jo invited me down to her farm to go horseback riding. I knew how to ride, but at that point in my life I wasn't all that experienced (my experience and expertise with horses began to change dramatically a couple of years later). So, we saddled up. Becky-Jo made sure everything was just right on my horse, and I didn't care for that at all. I wasn't a complete greenhorn.

Anyway, we rode off into the rolling hills, and eventually went up to the top of the ridge that paralleled the canyon where I lived. We had a good talk, she was funny and easy to be around. By the time we stopped for a little break, I'd come to view Becky-Jo in an entirely different light. It didn't hurt that instead of her usual baggy pants and shirt, she was now wearing skintight wranglers and a nicely fitted snap-front shirt that was unsnapped a snap farther than normal. When you added in a little push-up bra. The whole package looked pretty damn good!

We tied the horses off and sat down, side-by-side, leaning up against a big log. As we talked, even I realized that her whole demeanor had changed. She was cute and flirty and acting just a little shy. I liked it, a lot! It didn't take long until we kissed, then we were making out, and soon I had a few more snaps undone and had my hand on a very nice set of tits. They weren't huge - maybe bigger than a baseball, barely. They were very soft, not squishy, just extraordinarily feminine. The softness of her tits was starkly contrasted by very hard and almost strangely long nipples.

When I'd touch them or roll one between my fingers she'd gasp and pant and start breathing harder. They were definitely a hot-button for her and I liked that a lot, too. It didn't take long for me to get her shirt completely unsnapped. But, she wouldn't let me take it off her. I did manage to get her bra unhooked and when I sucked one of her nipples into my mouth she gasped, loudly! The more I sucked on them the more she moaned, and she wreathed in my arms almost like she was trying to get away, but not quite. The whole effect made me hard as hell.

I managed to get her pants unsnapped and her zipper down. Her Wranglers were skin-tight and I had to work to get my fingers down to her pussy. When I finally got my hand deep enough into her pants, I rubbed my middle finger over her slit as I sucked her nipple back into my mouth. She squirmed and gasped and moaned and said "No." But, she wasn't pushing me away and she wasn't trying to get away. In fact, she wasn't saying it like she really meant it. She said it in a horse, slightly high-pitched little whisper that was more inviting than repellent.

I rubbed her little pussy a couple of times with my finger and on about the third pass I just stuck it inside her as far as I could. She gasped loudly and as I started banging her pussy she'd say "ohh no, ohhhhhh nooo" in the same horse little whisper that somehow didn't convey "No" at all. The effect caused a wave of desire to well up inside me. Like all young guys, I'd had my hand in girl's pants who'd stopped me or wanted to stop me. A little persistence usually paid off. But, some girls held fast to "No" and I'd stop when I realized they meant it.

I'd always believed that it was a guy's job to try to get as far as I could with a chick that would let me do anything more than kiss her gently. And, I believed it was the girl's job to try to resist, or at least make pretense. If I was able to keep things moving forward, even if it took awhile, I kept going as long as the girl didn't absolutely stop me! I'd been with more than one girl who started out saying "No" and wound up sucking my cock and letting me fuck her. Becky-Jo's "No" was a strange cross between meaning for me to stop and her trying to convince herself she didn't want it to happen.

Once I'd shoved my finger inside her about 3 times she was pretty wet and she spread her legs for me, just a little. Her Wranglers were tight and I wasn't having much luck getting them down any further. I'd just managed to get two fingers inside her pussy when we heard a horse blow. The sound came from a different direction - it wasn't one of our horses, someone was coming.

We sat up and Becky-Jo jumped to her feet and walked toward our horses, rapidly putting herself back together, while keeping her back toward the approaching horse. It turned out that it was just another of their horses. He'd seen us ride off and had managed to worry a gate long enough to get it open; he simply tracked us down. We laughed when we saw the young gelding standing there, snorting and rolling his upper lip back. But, the mood was broken and try as I might, I couldn't get her back on the ground.

We stepped back in the saddle, rode up the ridge a little further, then began looping our way back toward the farm. Except that now, I saw Becky-Jo in a completely different light. There was something deeply sensual and almost wanton about her. Up until that point in my life, I'd certainly been around a few girls that were just sluts; chicks that would put out for just about anybody; even a couple chicks that would do just about anything. But there was something different and inexplicable about Becky-Jo. I could tell, somewhere deep down, she wanted it. But, at the same time, she was reluctant and resistant.

Her resistance was something distinctive. Entirely different than a chick that had made out with me too long, let me get a little further than she expected or even wanted, and then finally gave in and blew me or let me fuck her once we'd gotten beyond the point of no return; only to feel guilty and remorseful once it was over.

No, Becky Jo was unique. I couldn't put my finger on it. It was like she wanted to stop me but at the same time she needed me to push it and make it happen. And again, it was unique, not like a girl that needed to feel like she'd resisted and tried her best to stop me, but I'd pushed long enough, she finally gave in - using that as a means to console herself; like it wasn't really her fault. Becky-Jo wasn't easy. She certainly wasn't a slut. But there was something strangely idiosyncratic, somewhere deep down inside her, she was conflicted.

Nope, Becky Jo was beyond unique. There was something about her demeanor. A vaguely perceptible deviant sexual innuendo suggested something else. But, I was too young, too inexperienced, and certainly not nearly tuned into women's behavior and actions enough to even begin to grasp what was going on. All I knew was that she had a hook into me; a hook that was already almost down past the barb.

I was coming back for more. I knew it. She knew it. And, we both knew it, as we rode off, occasionally exchanging quizzical and flirty glances. Her tits seemed to stand out a little more and looked a little firmer and I was certainly having trouble sitting a horse with a hard cock running down my pant leg. She had my attention!

A few days later I invited Becky-Jo up to my cabin for dinner. She accepted without hesitation. Jamie was off somewhere else. As much as it'd amused me to see those two girls sparring with each other, I didn't want that complication that night. I wanted to get her a little buzzed up and finish what we'd started while we were out in the woods.

A friend of mine's Dad was a moonshiner - honestly! I don't think he sold any, but who knows, he may have sold a quart or two, here and there. The cabins up in the woods where we lived were old. Some of them were rickety. And, nearly all of them had a partial basement with a dirt floor.

According to Eric's ol'-man, the dark, slightly damp basement created the perfect environment for curing up "shine." He wasn't a moonshiner, like you've seen on the TV shows. He was just an old German guy who liked to brew his own beer and he had an actual still down in his basement. It was small but cool looking, with copper tubes and tubs and this "mad-scientist" looking fractional-distillation apparatus.

Every so-often he'd fire that sucker up and make a batch. When it was finished he'd fill quart Mason-Jars with his concoction. It was powerful stuff. In most of the jars he'd place a small pickled plum in the bottom before he added the alcohol. That turned into what he called "Grappa."

I have no idea what that means, it wasn't like the strong Italian "wine" that's available commercially. No, this was pretty much pure alcohol. The plum took the edge off and added a slightly sweet taste to it. This stuff was for sipping. You didn't drink it by the shot or mix drinks with it. This kind of shit was where the term "white lightning" originated! It'd sneak up on you and knock you on your ass, so you sipped it, very carefully.

Oh, yeah, as Eric and I learned one summer evening, don't eat the plum! The effects were beyond anything we ever imagined and we never did it again - Ok, maybe we did it a couple of times, but we didn't inhale!

After the first time I tasted the stuff I made a point of pretty much avoiding it. Even though I was in my 20's I rarely drank. At least it wasn't a regular thing. But, when we did drink, we usually woke up the next morning pretty hung-over. Which, I guess, is why I mostly avoided it.

I was the same way with Pot. I liked it, in certain situations. And, even though it was readily available, that too was a very occasional thing. Something I usually reserved for certain sexual situations. Mixing Grappa and pot was generally a bad idea, that sometimes produced a highly sexual response from a chick; or, she'd just pass out - you never knew.

Anyway, Becky-Jo showed up wearing something very similar to what she'd worn on our horseback trip. She had an extra bit of blue eye-shadow, that seemed to ricochet off her blue eyes and blonde hair. She was happy and upbeat and looked hot! Even though I could barely wait to fuck her, I played it cool.

Back then, my cooking abilities were pretty limited. When I had a chick over, supper was mostly limited to some variation of spaghetti or raviolis. Or, depending on the time of year, I'd have venison steaks. That night it was venison steaks. It was fall, I'd just filled both of my rosa-blanca.ru and the freezer was full.

For some reason, that night I'd decided to mix a little Grappa with some sort of fruit-punch that was already spiked with vodka. Surprisingly, the mixture produced a concoction that tasted great and went down easy. I offered Becky-Jo a glass, along with a vague warning about the contents. She responded with a funny little laugh and some sort of comment about taking advantage about her.

Which, obviously, was what I planned to do. We stood around outside, by a small fire, sipping our drinks, while I barbequed the venison. By the time it was done, even though I tried to keep the mixture pretty light, we were both feeling the effects of the punch.

We ate, talked, laughed, and generally had a good time. When we'd finished supper we went back outside and stood around the fire, continuing to talk and sipping fresh drinks. Which, by now, were sliding down a little too easily. Then, she produced a little joint. Even then, I knew it was a bad idea. I didn't want her to pass out on me. But, she had it lit before I realized it, so we both took a few puffs. It was a small, thin joint and it disappeared quickly.

We stood, stared at the fire and talked about our lives, things we liked, you know, just getting to know each other better. Except, by then I couldn't wait to get her in bed and see what she was really like. So, I stepped over next to her, pulled her close and we immediately went into a very deep and passionate kiss. I began gently caressing her, feeling her body, but she wasn't really into it. It was like one moment she wanted it very much, then the next she'd shut down. I didn't know what the hell was going on.

Eventually I got her inside my cabin and onto the couch. Except by then we'd both finished a second drink and I poured us both a (small) 3rd that was spiked with a little more than a dash of Grappa. We'd talk, then make out and I'd feel her up a little, then she'd sort of pull back. I was getting close to the point of deciding to just let it go. There was something going on and I didn't want to push her into something that she'd regret, or something that would make me feel like a rat the next morning.

About the time I'd come to that conclusion, we kissed again and she was very passionate. When my hand roamed up to her tits she moaned deeply and embraced it. I was pretty confused. I got her shirt open and we were going at it pretty passionately. Then, strangely, she pulled back and sat up, without saying a word.

I was getting frustrated and I've never liked some of the games girls occasionally liked to play. She produced a little pipe (just home grown pot). She took a big toke and I barely puffed on it. She took another long drag, and when I refused another, she put it away. It was weird. It was like she was bracing herself, numbing herself, in order to get ready for what now seemed imminent. It seemed like she couldn't face it without being loaded. Only now, she seemed ready and was much more responsive!

I scooted her over to the end of the couch, so she was halfway lying on her back. She stopped for a second and took one more, very big gulp of her drink, then she set it down, reached up with her arms and pulled me close to her. We made out for a few minutes and I sort of slid off the couch, so I was kneeling next to her. That way I could kiss her and get my hands inside her shirt at the same time.

In a very short time I had her bra undone, her shirt completely open and I was once again sucking on those wonderfully soft tits with the long hard nipples! She moaned and wreathed and was into it. From there it was a simple task to get her pants undone. I plunged my hand down under her panties, found her little slit, and was amazed at how wet she was. I mean it wasn't just her pussy that was wet. The wetness had gotten down to her thighs and her panties were soaked!

It took a little doing to get her Wranglers pulled down, but she didn't resist. In fact, she lifted her ass and helped me pull them down. Then I stood up, grabbed her pants and pulled them off her. It took my breath away. She had the hottest, most toned, sexy body I'd ever seen! The body that had been hidden under those baggy farm clothes was beyond incredible. For a few seconds all I could do was stare, probably with my mouth hanging open, she was beyond hot!

She leaned back against the arm of the couch, half sitting and half lying, completely naked, except for her panties. She had beautiful curves and those tits, those gorgeous tits were laying there soft, partially flattened and perfect with long hard nipples sticking straight up like monuments. They were slightly big for the size of her tits; about the size of the tip of my little finger, but strangely long and hard!