Uncle’s Farm and the fun of being a girl.
My name is Scarlett and as both my parents died when I was very young, I have no idea whatsoever why I was given such a name.
They say it was derived from the English surname of people associated with an occupational meaning, referring to a person who sold cloth of scarlet. It gained popularity due to the character Scarlett O’Hara in Margaret Mitchell’s best-selling novel Gone with the Wind and Nathaniel Hawthorne’s 1850 novel The Scarlet Letter, in which heroine Hester Prynne is forced to wear a scarlet letter A as a sign of her adultery.
A girls sees changes in herself when the feelings deep within make certain parts of her anatomy turn from coral pink to crimson parts normally hidden from the eyes of men lusting after that freshness of coral to inflamed reddish crimson, blood charged with heat and feelings only a girl can describe in her most intimate of moments, as these feeling are fleetingly felt, and like the will of the wisp, can be gone as quickly, but if caught, can be trapped and stoked from her coral pink toenails to the soft hue of her swollen lips, barely covering the evenness of her teeth, tenderly moistened by her tongue, so crimson and scarlett are hot colours to a girl and like a red rag to a bull, are used to lure and draw men closer.
So my name is always on the tip of their tongues as are my nipples and clitoris of initial p*****n pink and the deeper hues of red of my blood which started after my precocious puberty at twelve.
My aunt and uncle became my legal guardians and I was brought up in the countryside as a lonely c***d, either she was barren or he was seedless, either way they had no c***dren of their own so I was left to enjoy his company more than hers, which was baths, sunbathing, massages, wine and servants, and not necessarily in that order.
Being told I was now a woman at twelve was strange, for I still felt twelve, with exception of breasts forming and pubic hair obliterating the delicate vaginal line that curved deliciously into my crotch. I was blessed with smallish labia and forever the cunt of a girl which they tell me men prefer.
‘Place the purple glans of the cock onto the clitoris and push deeply along the vaginal line until it disappears up and into the cunt until you feel his pubic hairs on your Venus mound, then stay perfectly still, and feel your heartbeat on his cock’.
I wrote that on the inside cover of my school textbook when I was twelve and a lot of my friends copied it into theirs. As girls we were becoming acutely aware of sex and the effects we were having on men, Uncle who was 46 years old once whispered into my ear, ‘Your naked body does more for a man than the little blue pill called Viagra does’, and he should know, when it was aunties turn to hump, he took the pill and when he bathed with me, he was as hard as a rock.
Sex education for me was like farming. Being with the a****ls taught me of the needs and urges a****ls feel when nature is right and the season is upon them.
I rode before I could run having my own pony and because of my early body development with my rapid puberty my young horse whom I would say we both took to each other splendidly that Summer, saw us riding like the wind and doing something I never thought I ever would but did with surprising results.
Ditching my saddle for a mere padding across his muscular back and feeling each individual muscle and sinew work their magic past the thin gossamer of mere cotton covering my womanhood I felt at one with a b**st that excited me before men. To ride a horse efficiently a girl needs and develops good muscles that men only find out about in bed, when they are held in situ, held against their will, now I know why upper crust girls are given horses for fun.
You feel the power of the b**st you control with rein and stirrup, and your scent as you hold his head against yours. In your head he belongs to you and he is your first love emotionally and then there are times you do what he cannot for himself, you clean him by drawing him out with your bare hand and washing him in soapy water along his length pressing him to your own naked body.
All stable girls do this it is an act of intimacy necessary for his cleanliness but sexual in nature and as time goes on and his trust in you develops, his excitement in seeing you will be greeted with him wanting you and your touch, it was at such a time we rode into the hills and I could hold him between my thighs until his thrusting was finished and feeling him dry on my naked body as I rode bareback my teenage body painted with his semen.
Rituals in life have meanings that few understand and these rituals have always found opposing voices where ignorance prevails. What is norm for me can be offensive to people bound to each other in close proximity where life in the country and isolation allows freedoms only dreamt off in dark allays and clubs for that sort of thing.
I was mid-teens when uncle came into my bathing routine and decide to join me in the tub. I watched with fascination as he disrobed and stood naked and proud before my hooded eyes, focused intently upon his erect penis, and with slight amusement as it bobbed up and down as he walked towards me.
Having cleansed and held my stallion on many occasions, I offered my expertise to uncles pulsating member, and I found my soapy, sudsy hands were more of a delight in cupping his balls as I lowered myself onto him and humped for the first time with one inside me and his finger in the other hole feeling his cock moving in and out of my pussy, and remarking at how strong my kegel’s were, he was right for I was really squeezing him to control the speed of the fuck, all I was missing were my riding boots and crop.
Needless to say, Uncle was happy with my development into a young woman.