Inher-tit-ance

It was a bittersweet day.

With the paychecks for going on my first couple of big jobs in the bank, I could safely afford my apartment, truck, as well as the property tax, maintenance, and electric bill on my grandfather's old hunting and fishing cabin. The boss had even quietly given me a cash bonus once he saw my welds and how efficiently I laid them down on that first warehouse project. He told me that he'd do everything in his power to match anybody else's job offers as well.

When you're working for a company with a glowing twenty-year track record, that's a nice little bit of job security right there.

Mom and Dad had been trying to convince me to sell his cabin ever since Grandpa passed away. I was the only one in the family who ever enjoyed outdoor activities, so keeping the land was incomprehensible to them. It was nothing more than paying for something that should have been a windfall as far as they were concerned.

Which is why Grandpa left it to me in the first place. He knew I wouldn't let it get turned into a subdivision or something. As long as I was alive, kicking, and could afford it, the place would stay exactly as it was — wild and peaceful.

Now that I'd started paying back this year's property taxes to Dad, and I would be handling it going forward, their biggest cudgel was gone. With any luck, I wouldn't hear about selling the place ever again.

The sun had only just completely risen above the horizon when I finished loading up the truck and headed out for a five-day weekend at the cabin. After two months of constantly being on the road or under a welding helmet, I needed it.

I keenly felt my grandfather's absence from the moment I turned off the highway onto the gravel. I had to pause and wipe my eyes on my sleeve before getting out of the truck when I pulled up in front of the gate about twenty minutes later.

The meter wasn't showing the disconnect reading it had the last time I came out to do some mowing of the trails, so I assumed they'd turned the power on like they were supposed to. I'd know soon enough.

I unlocked the gate, drove through, and closed it up behind me. The twin trails of gravel beyond the gate were looking even more spotty and overgrown than last time I was out, so I made a mental note. Once I put down a full driveway again, I'd probably get a good decade or two out of it with proper maintenance.

When I pulled up, I saw the door was closed, and none of the windows that I could see were broken, which was a good start. I parked the truck, unlocked the door, and flipped on the porch light.

The dull yellow glow of the old incandescent bug light confirmed that the power was on. I could almost hear Grandpa bragging about how he'd screwed that bulb in back in 1989 and it was still going. I turned the light off and gave the inside of the cabin a look-see. Since everything looked good, I headed back to my truck and grabbed my toolbox.

The pump didn't give me a lot of grief, so soon enough I had running water. With the basic necessities up and running, I unloaded the truck.

By the time I was fully set up for the long weekend, I still had a little time left before noon. As far as I was concerned, that was a sign. I grabbed my fishing poles, and went to see if I could catch myself some lunch.

****

The temptation to sit on the porch overstuffed with freshly-caught catfish and drinking ice-cold beer for the rest of the day was powerful, but there were chores to do. I wanted to get everything out of the way as soon as possible, so I could use the rest of my time off simply enjoying myself and reminiscing about Grandpa. The place was so closely associated with him to me that I could almost feel his presence.

I hiked down to the gate and started following the fence line west. The fence itself looked good, and every No Trespassing sign I passed was intact, legible, and at an appropriate distance from the last. I would absolutely need to get the weed-whacker out and spend most of a day trimming along the fence, but it wasn't going to be this weekend.

Despite spending so much time on the property with my grandfather, nothing looked familiar as I neared the northwest corner of the land. We'd never been up there for some reason. I hadn't really thought about it before, but since I had to go that way, my curiosity was piqued.

That doubled as I twisted through some undergrowth and saw a spot that had obviously been mowed up to the fence at one point. Amidst that tall grass was a wooden bench that I knew was my grandfather's handiwork, which was facing the fence. The fence wire between the two posts in front of the bench looked newer than all the rest. On the other side was a lawn, marking it as belonging to the one neighbor who actually had a house abutting the property. Every other property was all woods or had cabins like Grandpa's. I'd never met a neighbor in all the years I had visited, but the bench suggested Grandpa had a relationship with them.

As I approached, I could tell that the bench wasn't weathered enough to have been out there for very long. He must have built it only a few years before he died. I wondered what had inspired him to haul that lumber all the way up there from the cabin when he was already having a bit of trouble getting around.

As I stepped into the clearing, I heard a woman's voice say, "Oh, hello. You must be Kevin."

I turned, and I knew my eyes must have been as wide as dinner plates when I saw them. In the yard on the other side of the fence were two blonde women somewhere around my mother's age, and they were stark naked. Both had easily the biggest tits I'd ever seen bare and in person, and they were walking toward me with easy smiles.

"You are Kevin, right?" one of the women asked.

I tore my eyes away from the bouncing boobies and bent down as if I was inspecting the bench. "Uhm... I... Yes, I'm Kevin."

The woman who had spoken said, "I knew it. Your grandfather talked about you all the time, and the resemblance is there in spades. I'm Marissa and this is my friend Candice."

By the time she had finished speaking, I could see that they were just on the other side of the fence. It felt extremely rude to keep looking away from them, so I turned and tried to make eye contact.

The other blonde waved and said, "Hello."

"Hello," I responded. My eyes — despite my best efforts and intentions — kept drifting to those enormous tits.

Marissa chuckled. "Okay. Elephant in the room," she said while holding out her hands and gesturing toward her bared body — as if it needed any highlighting. "I guess Warren never told you I was a nudist."

"No, he never mentioned that. Sorry, I just..."

"Oh, it's quite okay. I can imagine you'd be a bit flustered by two naked old ladies walking up on you out of the blue."

I wouldn't say old ladies, I thought. They were both a little thick, but certainly not overweight. Despite repeatedly forcing my eyes back to their faces, my instinctual glances at their bodies had blood rushing between my legs. They were good-looking, and those giant tits were like magnets for my eyes.

"Just unexpected," I said.

Marissa held out her left hand with the palm up and said, "Unexpected good?" She then lifted her right hand, mirroring the hand gesture on the other side. "Unexpected bad?"

"Oh, good. It's nice to meet you," I said, forcing myself to make conversation and struggling with the absurdity of it.

"Well, that's good," Marissa said. "I just wanted to introduce myself. I was so sorry to hear that Warren passed. He was a lovely man. I always enjoyed talking to him."

"Thanks. I miss him a lot."

"So do I," she agreed. "We'll leave you be." She lifted a finger and her eyes widened as if just remembering something. "Oh, but I do have a few friends from the resort coming over for the weekend, if you'd like to join? We'll have plenty of booze, fresh-squeezed lemonade, snacks, and a potluck. You're more than welcome."

The absurdity of the situation finally got the better of me and there was laughter in my voice when I said, "I'll think about it."

They both smiled and chuckled. "Just one thing. It is a Nude Day celebration, so..." She mimed plucking at a shirt that wasn't there.

"Gotcha," I said, giving her a thumbs-up.

"Hope to see you. Bye," Marissa said.

"Bye," Candice echoed, and both women waved.

"Bye," I responded, and awkwardly waved back.

The two women turned and strolled back to the house. I couldn't resist a look. Their butts were a little big, but still quite nice. They were also swaying rather hypnotically as the women sauntered across the lawn with their hands floating at their sides in a way that absolutely screamed femininity.

Grandpa, you dirty old goat, I thought as I looked away before one of them glanced over their shoulder and caught me ogling them. That certainly explained why he'd put in the effort to haul lumber all the way to the corner of the property. I couldn't really blame him, either. They looked pretty good to me, and to him, they would have been hot young girls half his age.

It made me wonder if he'd done more than look. He'd always talked about Grandma fondly and often grew misty-eyed when he did, but the bench proved he wasn't beyond the call of feminine whiles despite missing her and obviously still loving her dearly.

I would never know, so I continued down the fence line before my eyes drifted back to the display of attractive flesh just the other side of the fence. Once I was behind what I believed was sufficient cover of undergrowth, I adjusted my erection, which had hardened in somewhat of a bind in my shorts.

I made it almost to the northeast corner of the property before my thoughts more or less focused in on the task at hand.

****

When I woke up in the morning to perfect silence, it was sheer bliss. I will admit I was missing my air-conditioning as the rising sun rapidly warmed the cabin, but it meant I didn't remotely need an alarm clock.

I fired up the Coleman stove, put on a pot of coffee, and then walked out onto the porch in just the cloth shorts I'd slept in. The morning air was scented with earth and trees. Birdsong greeted me from every quarter. I could almost hear my grandfather singing that couple of verses of an old song about a beautiful morning, because he did it religiously every time we stepped out onto the porch when we were out there.

I quite nearly did it myself.

I sat on the bench my grandfather had made, sipping coffee and taking in the morning. When my cup was empty, my stomach was grumbling, so I went inside to make breakfast.

As I was pulling bacon and eggs out of the cooler, I came to a decision I had been pondering for a while. I was going to buy a fridge for the place. Even a long weekend meant that I could only have fresh food and cold beer for a couple of days without running back into town. Once I had the opportunity to take a real vacation, it would be nice to have a stocked fridge so I didn't have to leave.

A window unit was still up for debate, but I was inching ever closer that way as the heat of the day increased.

I'd dragged the ladder and brush out of the shed to sweep the chimney after finishing my inspection of the fence line, and then mowed the trails, so I no longer had anything hanging over my head. I could simply enjoy myself.

Of course, the thought of hiking over to the neighbor's place and joining the party crossed my mind. I'll admit that I cranked one out fantasizing about Marissa before going to sleep. Suffice to say my last relationship hadn't ended well, and the sex had stopped some time before that. Then I had that run of projects at work that had me on the road. So, I hadn't had sex in about six months at the time, and I was feeling it.

The thought of walking around with my dick swinging in the wind — or more probably bouncing at full erection — was just too uncomfortable, so I dismissed the notion of joining the party. Instead, I picked up my fishing poles and headed down the freshly mowed trail to the pond.

With a nice breeze coming in off the water, a cold beer at my side, and a shade tree overhead, I put my lines in the water. I didn't have to wait long. The bell on one pole started ringing after about ten minutes. I reeled in a catfish that would make a good start on lunch. One more would be a meal. A couple more that size and I'd be set for dinner as well.

I slipped the fish into a basket and dropped it in the water. I nearly lost the bell on my second pole when it suddenly bent toward the water while I was safeguarding my first catch. Before I could reach the pole, the bend in it vanished, and the sudden snap sent my bell flying off behind where I was fishing. It was pure, dumb luck that it hadn't gone the other way and ended up in the pond.

I ran over and knelt down next to my pole. The line hadn't gone slack, and it wasn't bouncing as though the sinker was hopping along the bottom. A moment later I grabbed my pole when the fish started running away from the shore and bent the pole again. I set my hook and a wide grin spread across my face.

That fellow put up a fight. I had to tweak my drag to make sure he didn't snap the line. More than once, he ran back toward me, but he didn't catch me off-guard, and I used the opportunity to reel in some of the line I'd let him have. Eventually, the fish tired out, and I got a look at it through the sparkling water. It was a whopper.

Once the fish was in about a foot of water by the shore, it made one last-ditch effort to escape. That powerful tail lashed and the fish rolled over and over, splashing water everywhere. It was all he had, though. Once the roiling surface settled, I was able to reel the catfish in.

It was a twelve-pounder, and took care of my meal planning for the day. I snapped a picture of the fish and the scale with my phone, and then pulled out a stringer because he wasn't going to fit in the basket. I was done fishing for the day, but I wasn't going to leave him on the shore flopping and baking in the sun while I packed up, so I gave him a toss out into the water.

I saluted him with my beer, finished it off, and then got to work putting everything back where it belonged in the tackle box. As I was closing the lid, my brow furrowed because something was off. I wasn't sure what it was, but I knew something was nagging at the edge of my awareness.

Then suddenly I knew what it was. I was hearing music. It was faint — barely audible — but the silence between two songs had registered enough to give me pause. I knew where it had to be coming from, and it wasn't remotely loud enough to be disturbing, so I finished packing up.

As I was about to pull in my catch and head back to the cabin, I turned toward Marissa's house. A vision of her and Candice in all their busty glory congealed in my head.

There was nobody around to disturb my gear and the fish were fine out in the water, so I decided there was no harm in a little peek to see who had showed up to the party. The pond wasn't all that far away from the corner of the property where she lived, so I headed that way.

The music grew louder, and I was eventually able to discern that it was 80s and 90s rock. Once I was close to the fence, I could begin to see movement through the trees and undergrowth as Thunderstruck rang out from the speakers. I steeled myself for the probability of naked guys or people Grandpa's age as I continued on.

Just before I broke into the mowed clearing, I paused. I was still more or less concealed there, but I could see out across the yard.

Four more women were with Marissa and Candice under an awning that shaded them from the sun. One was brunette. One had sandy blonde hair with lighter highlights. Another blonde and a redhead rounded out the newcomers.

And every single one of them had tits for days.

"God damn," I muttered as I let my eyes roam over the titty-fest and adjusted my swelling erection. A couple of them were a little older, but not ancient. The brunette and redhead weren't in quite as good of shape as the rest, but frankly those bodacious ta-tas did much to distract from a sagging belly and a wider ass.

Candice and Marissa were the odd girls out, because everyone else was sporting a bush. The other blonde looked to be trimmed, but the rest were letting nature take its course. They were all dancing to the music, chatting, laughing, and having fun.

I took a couple of steps back as the thought of walking around naked felt less and less uncomfortable in light of who was attending the party — and my decided lack of anyone else touching my dick in months.

I was still wavering as I forced myself to turn around and walk back to the pond. As I was walking along the shore, another song transition caught my attention, and I looked over my shoulder.

That's when something snapped in my brain. I pulled in the basket, let the first catfish go, and then reeled in the stringer. Before letting that whopper go, I said, "I'll see you next time."

The fish had apparently renewed its strength because it splashed me with rapid flicks of its tail as it darted back out into deeper water.

I quickly gathered up my gear and hurried back to the cabin. I'll admit that the little head was pretty much in charge at that point. I stowed my gear, locked up the cabin, and turned on my heel.

I was on a mission with my rock-hard compass pointing toward the true north of big ol' titties until I was close enough to clearly discern the music again. That's when my brain managed to get in a word edgewise. I slowed — my ears starting to grow warm — but my hard prick kept dragging me steadily forward.

Once I stepped into the clearing and let my eyes take in the female flesh on display again, my brain made a successful flanking maneuver. Fear and embarrassment washed over me, and I turned to make a retreat.

I winced when Marissa called out, "Kevin!"

I looked over my shoulder to see her jogging toward me — one arm unsuccessfully trying to rein in her bouncing breasts. Those massive mammaries jiggling and jolting from her stride may as well have been a hypnotist's watch. I couldn't look away.

"Hey you," she said as she reached the fence. "Happy Nude Day! So, are you coming to join us?"

"I... Uhm... Uh..." I stammered — fairly certain my ears were going to burst into flames.

"Oh, come on. There's no need to be embarrassed. Come join the party. And don't worry if you get hard. We're not those stodgy naturists who think a man with an erection is the epitome of uncouth behavior. It's a perfectly natural thing."

I was at a complete loss — still fighting off a severe case of fearful shame.

Marissa's eyes dropped to the bulge in my shorts and widened. Her smile broadened as well. Then she looked up at me and said, "It certainly looks like you don't have anything to be ashamed of. Good heavens."

As if the mention had renewed its strength, my dick reasserted itself and started cutting through the fog of fear.

Marissa put a hand on her hip in an unmistakably provocative pose. Her voice was lower and seductive when she said, "Take a chance. Get those clothes off and truly embrace nature." She glanced at the barrier between us and said, "Well, maybe once you're on this side of the fence. We can't have anything getting caught on the barbed wire."

That nearly got me, but there were still a few tendrils of white-hot shame wrapped around me.

She glanced at my crotch — letting her eyes linger this time. Her voice took on that deep, seductive tone again when she said, "I promise you're going to enjoy it."

And that was it. I looked around and noticed a limb that I could reach without having to take a running jump. When it was obvious what I was up to, Marissa said, "There you go."