BIG IS BETTER
By XH4M
This story is a fantasy. All characters in this story are fictional with no resemblance to any real persons implied. Any reader with objections to graphic descriptions of sexual encounters between males, who may not have reached the legal age of consent, or whose local, regional, state or national jurisprudence prohibits such descriptions, should NOT read further. Copyright (c) 2000 XH4M. All rights, implicit or implied, except for distribution by this archive and personal use by the individual downloading the file, are reserved. Inquiries regarding publishing rights for this story should be directed to: xhuge4muscl@hotmail.com
PART 09 - BABY, BABY DO ME ONE MORE TIME
It was customary for every family in our community to participate in these occasional building projects. This was especially common when there were newlyweds involved. It's an Amish cultural norm, and one of the few community social events outside of attending church services.
Rachael was by every outward appearance a reserved, pious and chased young Amish woman. She wore the traditional black woman's prayer-cap on her head indicating she was single. But not so obviously, she also had a very lustful 'eye for the boys,' and never passed an opportunity to raise her long skirts up with abandon whenever she could find a hard male Outlander's pole to mount. Apparently Rachael had an unusually libertine view of Rumspringa's understood 'permissions.'
I'd been working steadily all afternoon framing the new barn with the other men, and I'd worked up a real sweat with a thirst to match. Usually the boys did the high-up pegging work in the roof rafters while the men assembled the sections on the ground. I assume Rachael had targeted me as suitable 'stud material' sometime earlier in the day. Why she'd selected me and not one of the older boys, well I'm not really sure. Maybe she'd taken notice of the enticing full contour in the crotch of my pants whenever I was squatting down knees-to-chest on a high beam, pegging the new joists together. In some positions I was still easy to spot even in baggy pants. But no matter.
I clambered down to fetch a drink for myself. Rachael approached me as I walked towards a large table loaded with refreshments set out on the grassy lawn. She extended a glass of cold lemonade to me and was smiling... I'd say invitingly. She feigned some concocted excuse she needed some help from "a big, strong man" with something or other, just to get me out in the barn with her alone. I dutifully - if somewhat naively - went off to help the fair young maiden in exerting whatever force my virile teenage manhood could to assist her. But it wasn't my strength she apparently was seeking though, I would quickly discover. As we turned the corner out of site from the rest, she moved in very close to my side. The full-court press was on.
Taking hold of my hand and with her eyelashes batting away, she coyly asked me, "Do you think I'm pretty?"
"Why yes - Of course!" I answered completely automatically, ever the kind and polite boy.
As our arms swung hand-in-hand as we walked along, the back of Rachael's hand was making regular contact with my crotch. The fact is I started to spring one completely involuntarily. In truth, the subtlest manual stimulation of my male equipment immediately produced that reaction. It strangely never mattered particularly to my cock exactly who or even what was doing the stimulating, either. It was as if it always had a mind of its own. Sometimes just going about my usual daily chores, I noticed my baggy overalls would still rub me in just that 'right way' and I'd get hard, sometimes cumming right in my pants without even touching myself. So with just the littlest amount of physical stimulation I got an instant erection.
We'd only taken a few steps inside the barn when Rachael almost dislocated my shoulder, dragging me to the ladder leading up to the loft like a horse heading back to the corral - and when she got me into the hay, she transformed suddenly from the chased Amish girl virgin into the chasing, wanton women she really was - and what she was wantin' was my pecker stuffed into her pussy - and real fast. A virgin she definitely was not. So down into the hay we went, with Rachael's hand working non-stop on my boner like she was manning the bilge pump handle of a sinking ship. And I knew now about 'the birds and the bees', having pieced together how things were suppose to work from seeing a copy of Screw Magazine someone had forgotten on a locker room bench once. Those pictures had left absolutely no questions unanswered. I was one sexually-sophisticated dude!
"Yeah, just like I thought.. A really big one," I heard her mutter as she continued to raise my mast.
In the blink of an eye, she unbuttoned my pants with speed of a consummate professional, and yanked them down to my knees. Then to my complete disbelief, she produced a box of condoms from one of her dress pockets. I didn't think condoms were even sold anywhere in Lancaster County, so I wondered just where a sweet Amish girl would acquire such possessions.
She opened the box, ripped one open and then handed it to me.
"Here, do you know what this is?"
"Sure I do," I said, all-so-confidently.
Well I had a fairly good idea of what it was anyway - I'd heard about them from the Outlanders in school. I'd just never really seen one before- let alone used one.
"Good then," she replied coyly. "Put it on that fat dick of yours, then show me what a real man you are."
Her words just didn't seem to go at all with this perfectly-dressed vision of Amish chastity in front of my eyes.
I struggled and struggled - and then struggled some more - trying to get the damn thing to just unroll over me the entire time Rachael was dropping her many skirts and undressing. The thing just didn't feel like I expected though. It was awfully tight and felt more like a vice around my dick.
Meanwhile, the now buck-naked Rachael rolled onto her back with leg spread wide apart, her pussy all wet and wildly waiting for me to just stuff her... and oh, did I ever. OK, I admit it. I tried for an extraordinarily long time, in fact - I really did.
"Come on - FUCK me with that huge thing, stud," she demanded, and in English no less. She also repeated it again and again, as if she was possessed and needed to be exorcised of her own demon - or maybe at least beat it to death- using me as her holy weapon of choice. And she was intent - absolutely relentless! I lunged and I pushed. I thrust and parried. I drilled like a North Sea oil rig. It seemed to me though that her eyes were definitely bigger than her ... cunt. Every push seemed to meet an insurmountable resistance. Rachael had worked up an incredible sweat too, and began to assume a more aggressive role.
"Wait a minute... try now...."
Then she rolled onto her side.
"Wait a minute... maybe this is better...."
Then she rolled onto her front.
"Wait a minute... now push harder...."
Finally she just climbed right on top of me and tried impaling herself on my fence post from above. Since my cock always acted completely on its own behalf anyway, I was free to remain somewhat detached from what was actually going on, and totally astonished by the degree of her determination and lust. Rachael was a cowgirl just beggin' to ride. But try as she did, she could not seem to get the cork back into the bottleneck. Unfortunately, this wasn't our only problem either. To make matters worse, the damn rubber would be there covering my dick one second, and then suddenly be gone the next, as if by magic - or maybe some real voodoo.
She panted in frustration, "Where'd your rubber go? You've got to wear a rubber...."
"I don't know!" I grunted, and then I'd reach for the box of condoms and struggle to put on yet another one. Those things were ridiculous! We tied changing positions but the same damn thing would happen every time. It would suddenly just disappear again in the blink of an eye.
"Where'd your rubber go now?" she said with an even more puzzled expression, finally realizing something very odd was going on indeed.
"I DON'T K-N-O-W ," I said in total exasperation. "It was just there a second ago. Honest!"
Rachael was growing progressively more impatient every time I'd have to break off the assault and struggle to cover my totem pole with another rubber. In all, I must have had a half dozen rubbers perform this strange Houdini disappearing act, literally there one second and gone the next. This was to be my very first hint at just how fundamentally incompatible latex and I really were.
Eventually we were exhausted and just had to give up, both of us probably equally sore as well. I felt like I'd been trying to ram a river rat through a mouse hole.
This fiasco of repeated, failed attempts to copulate was an unmitigated disaster. I was humiliated I couldn't seem to do what I'd seen in those pictures. I knew it was also all my fault - I was the failure. And as I had time to think about it more afterwards, deep inside I was haunted again by old, nagging thoughts that I was a circus freak.
I was so traumatized I never had sex again while I lived in Lancaster County. Even though I had the sex drive of the whole Dallas Cowboys Team along with the gonads of a prize stud bull, my experience with Gabe would never be repeated with another guy for nearly 5 long and lonely years.
I graduated high school essentially as I had entered it - a shy, self-conscious, still naive young man - though perhaps not quite as much as I once was. I knew I was probably 'a homo.' My experience with Gabe had left an indelible legacy - intense feelings I could never put out of my mind. I even had fantasies for the first time that someday I might find a REAL stud of a man who'd maybe take a special shinin' to me, too. And I also knew that would never happen if I remained in Lancaster County - but I had a plan.
I did not waste the rest of my high school years. I was smart and got good grades easily. Yep - straight "A's, or just about. My brains were going to be my ticket out of the Dark Ages and propel me into the REAL world. And thankfully I finally had a real good growth spurt in high school and ended up at 5' 10", certainly not all I'd hoped for - I was never going to be a tall guy - but I wasn't complaining anymore either. My boy's body had turned into a man's body by the end of high school, and one with at least some attractive attributes - those being wide shoulders and narrow hips. I was a chip off the 'ol block in every way.
I worked my butt off academically to make damn sure I would get accepted at a good college. And in my senior year, all that hard work paid off beyond my wildest hopes. Not only did I have my pick among several prestigious colleges but the acceptances all came with offers of full academic scholarships.