My Rural Neighbor, Becky

A 37-year-old writer inherits a rural Kentucky home in1905. He hires a poor neighbor girl to be his housekeeper. Things become steamy when they share a bath!

Part One

It was the year 1905. I, Bradford James, was a successful writer at age 37. I had a few novels to my credit, but most of my income came from penning short stories for magazines. Some of my works of fiction were comedic in nature, some were romantic, some were satirical, and some were adventurous. Regardless of the genre I chose, the public seemed to like whatever I wrote. I was making an excellent income doing something that I loved doing. I had standing offers from several major periodicals that they would pay me well anytime I submitted a short story on any topic. In other words, I could set my own pace and schedule and be well paid for it. Life was good for me!

That same year I inherited a property in rural Kentucky that had belonged to an unmarried male relative of mine named Randolph whom I had never met. He had recently died at the age of 82. He was some sort of distant great uncle of mine on my mother’s side of the family. He had no direct descendants. Apparently, because I had achieved a certain degree of fame as a writer, he was proud of me and made me the sole beneficiary of his will. Receiving a letter from a lawyer who was the executor of that will was startling.

Uncle Randolph’s estate basically consisted of a bank account and a house located in the rural part of a county. The bank account was peanuts to me, but inheriting a house was a nice windfall. It was not located on a farm itself—but farms surrounded Uncle Randolph’s home in every direction. I travelled to the site to look at the house, fully expecting to sell it as soon as possible just to be rid of it. To my surprise, I found it to be a charming little place. What I liked best was the wonderful solitude. The nearest neighbor was half a mile away. I wrote best when I was not disturbed, so this place seemed a perfect little nook in the world where I could focus on my craft.

I decided to make it my summer home. It was one of the few in the county that had electricity, a telephone and indoor plumbing. Most of my neighbors lived their lives as if the year were 1835 rather than 1905.

For the first three days I was there, I saw absolutely no one. Then one day, when I was taking a stroll to stretch my legs, I saw a girl in the distance. Her age was difficult to discern, especially as I was standing about 100 yards from her. I waved at her. She waved back at me in an especially friendly manner. That was the first social interaction (if you can call it that) I ever had with Becky Sayer.

The next day I happened to be looking out the window when I saw Becky for the second time in my life. This time she was much closer. In fact, she was clearly heading to my home to pay me a visit. I opened the door to say hello when she was still 20 yards away.

I started the conversation by saying to her, “Hello, it’s so nice to have a visitor! Please come in, young lady. My name is Bradford James. I am a writer by trade.”

“My name is Becky Sayer. I don’t have a trade,” she frankly informed me. “My family and I live over there on that farm.” She pointed at a location. I could see nothing in the distance because of the contour of the land.

“My mother sent me here to look for a job,” she said. “I’m to find out if you’re in need of someone to do chores and odd jobs, or maybe to cook and clean, or perhaps all of those things. I can do just about anything for you,” she informed me.

I took a long look at this girl. She was diminutive, perhaps 5’2”. She was barefoot, wore an old faded cotton dress that had a noticeable hole in one of the shoulders. She looked underfed, like she could use a few good meals--and perhaps a bath, too. Still, she was an extremely cute, pleasant thing. I didn’t want to hazard a guess at her age. I was well-to-do, so I figured I’d hire her for general services. It was more of a good deed for a needy person than a necessary hire.

I told Becky, “Yes I will hire you, young lady.” This caused her face to light up—which also enhanced her looks. “I’ll hire you to be my personal assistant. If the house needs cleaning, you will clean it. If I need some cooking to be done, you will do that. That will keep you busy constantly because I hate to cook. Thirdly, I want you to be my companion. If I’m not writing, I need someone to talk to me so I’m not lonely or blue. If you want, you can come in the mornings and leave at night—or you can stay with me. I have an extra bedroom here that is unoccupied. You can have it as your own. You can also make meals for two and eat what I eat. At the end of each calendar month, I will pay you $50 in cash. How does that sound, Becky?

Becky was incredulous. “Did you say $50 a month, sir?

“Yes, I did—and please don’t refer to me as ‘sir’. Kindly call me Bradford. I want to be your friend, Becky. Friends call each other by their first names. Do you have a problem with working for $50 per month?”

“No, sir—I mean Bradford. Fifty dollars is more money than I’ve ever seen in my life. When can I start?”

“How about right now, Becky? By the way, today is the ninth day of the month. At the end of the month, I’ll pay you the full $50 as if you worked the full 31 days—so that’s a bit of a starting bonus for you.”

“That’s wonderful, Bradford!” she exclaimed. “What would you like me to do for you first?”

“Just tell me about yourself, your whole life story,” I instructed her. “I want to know all about the girl who will be sharing this house with me whenever I’m here.”

Part Two

I made the two of us big mugs of tea for our chat about her. Becky told me it was the first time in her life she had ever tasted tea! She had sampled coffee on occasion, but never tea. That made sense when she told me how poor her family was. Her father was supposedly a farmer, but he was mostly a drunkard who seldom could find legal work. He augmented what little income he had by making and selling bootleg liquor to local folks. Becky’s mother wasn’t much better. She was a farm wife who occasionally did sewing for extra pennies. Becky had three older brothers, the youngest being 20 years old. They all lived at home and did most of the farming, scraping by each month. There were no luxuries in the household whatsoever—and they also had no running water nor electricity. She said none of this with any shame; she was just relaying the harsh facts of her life as Becky Sayer.

I decided then and there to up her pay to $60 per month purely out of pity. I’d surprise her with the extra $10 when pay day arrived.

I gave her the full tour of the house, which had two floors. Most of the modern conveniences were new to her. I had to show her how to turn an electric light switch on and off and how to do the same with the faucets above the sink in the kitchen and the bathroom—and the bathtub.

The bathtub absolutely fascinated her. “I’ve never seen one of these before. I’ve only heard of them. To me it sounds like something a princess would have in one of those fairy tales.”

I smiled at that comparison. I asked her, “I suppose you only have a wash bin at your house for bathing?”
“Yes, that’s right, Bradford” she confirmed, “and we have to walk about 30 yards from the farmhouse to use the pump to fill the wash bin with water.”

“I was going to have a bath today, Becky. This is good timing. Let’s take this as an opportunity for you to learn how to run a bath for me.” I showed her where the stopper was and how it prevented the bath water from draining. Then I showed her where I kept the washcloths, scrub brushes, bars of soap and bath towels. Behind them, I showed her I even had a large bottle of liquid bubble bath to make soap suds!

“You fill the tub with hot water. You have to heat it on the stove,” I told her. “This house doesn’t have running hot water.” That concept was utterly foreign to Becky.

Becky got to work and prepared an excellent warm bath for me. Then something occurred to me. I asked, “Becky, I bet you’ve never had a real bath in a tub, right?”

She nodded and said, “Bradford, I told you this was the first bathtub I’ve seen. If I’ve never seen a bathtub before, that means I’ve never had a bath before.”

“Yes, of course. You are right, Becky. How silly of me.” Then I paused and said, “Would you like to have this bath for yourself, Becky? I could use the bathtub later, after you do. I think you would very much like the sensation of bathing in a tub of hot water with scented soap suds! It’s very relaxing!”

“Really? Do you mean that Bradford? Yes, I’d love to have a real bath for the first time in my life. Thank you, so much!"

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone. Take your time. Enjoy your bath, Becky. I’ll occupy myself with some writing that I’m supposed to be doing today.”

I was just about to leave the bathroom when Becky said something quite startling to me. “This bathtub is very big. I bet it could hold four people my size. Why don’t we share the bathtub, Bradford?”

I turned around slowly. Becky’s question was asked not out of sexiness but out of the custom of her rural home.

“Becky, when you wash at home, do you wash with your parents and brothers?”

“Yeah, sometimes. Actually, it’s most of the time,” she replied. “Sometimes we heat up a huge vat of hot water, drop in some soap, and scrub each other’s bodies until we are clean. That’s normal for me and everyone. Our family always washes each other on bath day.”

I continued with my questions. “Do your brothers wash you, Becky?”

“Yes, sure, they wash me and I wash them--even their penis things that boys have. They wash me from head to toe, too, including my pussy thing. It feels nice when my brothers wash me down there. It tingles a bit sometimes. I like it.”

Becky paused before letting me in on a family secret. “When I wash my brothers, sometimes their penises get hard. Once my oldest brother Jacob tried to jam his hard penis into my pussy, but Daddy saw what was going on and beat the hell out of him! Daddy said that was my private part and that no brother ought to ever put his penis in his sister’s thingy. That would be a sin. Daddy sometimes put his penis in me when he’s feeling lonesome if Mama is off working somewhere. I guess it’s not a sin if Daddy does it.”

I started to get the picture of what type of things occasionally went on at the Sayer farm. To be sure, it was not all sunshine and rainbows. Nevertheless, I found myself in a very favorable situation. “Becky,” I said, “yes, we can share the bathtub. I’d love to give you a good cleansing and vice versa. We could have great fun. Just don’t mention it to anyone in your entire family. They might not approve of it. If you tell them anything about this bath, just say you bathed alone, please.”

Becky had to ask me what the term “vice versa” meant. I explained it to her. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll get undressed so we can both have a nice bath together. Like you said, I think it will be lots of fun. I like you already, Bradford.” This girl was the essence of naivete—and I loved it!

Becky yanked off her cotton dress to display a small set of perky breasts. They were absolutely lovely to gawk at. Her underwear, which seemed a trifle too small for her, came off next. It revealed a hairy vagina.

Becky commented, “Whenever Daddy sees me without my clothes on, he says I’m small fry—but good things come in small packages. What do you think, Bradford?”

“I think your father is a very wise man who knows what he is talking about.” I responded. “Let me get undressed now.” I had many more layers of clothing than my newly hired housekeeper did. By the time I was nude, I had a huge erection in anticipating this sexy bath for two—which was going to be a totally new experience for me.

“What do you think of me, Becky?” I asked, fearing what her honest answer might be.

She stated, “You look like a healthy man, Bradford. Your penis is very big and hard like my brothers’ penises are. It’s about the size of Daddy’s penis when his gets big. He’s proud of it. He calls it a ‘dandy dick’ whenever he shows it to me.”

I took that remark as a compliment. I told Becky I’d get into the bathtub first and stretch out. She could follow me in, and I would make plenty of room for her.

The temperature of the water was excellent—warm but nowhere near scalding. My dick was now sky high with sexual anticipation. I took both of Becky’s hands to assist her into the tub. Becky was right: There was plenty of room in the huge tub for a couple. She sat down, placing her bum between my legs. She placed her attractive, athletic legs on each side of my waist. I immediately put my arms around Becky to draw her as close to me as possible. I felt my penis grow a bit more. After having gone nearly three years without intercourse with a woman, I was more than ready to have sex with this innocent gal. it certainly was a step up from masturbating.

I began caressing Rebecca’s back with my hands alone. Then I took a large bar of soap, and applied it to her, working up a lather.

“This feels really nice all over my body, Bradford! The warm water is lovely,” Becky cooed.

“The loveliest thing in this bathtub is you, Becky!” I told her as I began to apply soft kisses to the nape of her neck and both cheeks as I continued to gently wash her back. I then began kissing Becky’s forehead and the front of her neck.

“Is this how you normally take a bath?” she asked me sincerely.

“Yes, it is if I’m sharing it with a pretty girl like you are, Becky. I’m getting very aroused right now—and I like it.” I could tell that Becky was not a worldly girl when it came to anything pertaining to the birds and the bees. She didn’t understand half of what I was telling her.

I discarded the soap for a moment so I could put both my hands firmly on her breasts. Becky was not alarmed, just curious when she asked, “What are you doing now?”

“I’m making love to you, my dear. Right now, I’m caressing your sexy titties. Oh, I love the feel of your nipples. Do you like the way I’m doing that, Becky? I want to make you feel good while I’m bathing you.”

Becky said, “Sometimes my brothers would touch my titties when we washed. They tried to make it seem like an accident, but there were too many accidents for them to be accidents. My brother Thomas sometimes spent a lot of time washing my pussy with his bare hands. I think he liked doing that—a lot.”

“Well, I can hardly fault him for doing that, Becky. Is this what he did?” I placed my right hand on Becky’s vagina and slowly rubbed it.

“Yeah, that’s what Thomas did!” she concurred. “You do it really nice, Bradford. Keep doing it please. I like it.”

“Glad to,” I said. I gently fingered Becky’s most intimate body part for several minutes. Becky kept herself occupied by using a bar of soap to wash me. When she got to my penis, she abruptly stopped.

“I thought you said you washed your brothers’ penises, Becky. Don’t you want to wash mine, too? I really want you to wash mine!” I requested.

“Bradford, your penis is so big right now,” she stated. “I never washed by brothers down there when they had hard penises. Daddy said that would be a sin, too.”

“I’m not one of your brothers, Becky,” I reminded her. “I’m not a family member at all, so it won’t be a sin—just a lot of bathtime fun. Please wash my dick. It’s waiting for you. I’ll show you what to do.”

She worked up some soap lather in her hands. I told her to put her right hand on my shaft and rub it up and down. I sighed in ecstasy. Becky was giving me a hand job without realizing it. It felt marvelous—even more so because I resumed fondling her pussy. I was certainly enjoying the greatest bath I’d ever had.

I coached Becky to fondle my testicles with one hand while continuing to stimulate my rod with her other hand. “This is fun, Bradford. I bet my brothers would all like this. When Daddy isn’t looking, I’ll do it for them.”

I just chuckled and brought Becky’s body toward mine until we were in a full embrace. (Of course, that stopped the hand job.) I moved my face down and sucked on her titties. Her nipples were at full attention by this point. I licked them thoroughly as if there was no tomorrow. “I love your titties, Becky. I want to play with them forever.”

“I like that you like them, Bradford,” she responded with a cute smile. “Daddy calls them nature’s gifts. What part of our bath are you going to do next?”

“Penetration!” I replied immediately. I could tell by the puzzled look on Becky’s confused face that she had no idea what I was referring to. “Here’s what I mean.”

I lifted Becky just far enough out of the water so her pussy was clearly visible to me. I lined it up with my dick and slowly had her descend down my shaft. The moment of first penetration was obvious by the startled look on her face. Then it turned into an expression of bliss.

“Daddy does this to me sometimes when we wash, but we do it standing up,” Becky informed me as she wrapped her arms lovingly around my torso. This feels much nicer, though, Bradford.”

I began lifting her up and down on my erection. We were now engaged in full-fledged fucking—and I was loving it!

“How does this feel, Becky? My dick loves being inside your wonderful vagina!”

Becky was moaning with delight but managed to say, “I like this so much! What do you call this?” Wow! This girl really was innocent!

“It’s called fucking, Becky,” I said trying to suppress a laugh. “At this moment I am fucking your pussy. We are having sexual intercourse. I’m making love to you with my hard dick. It’s the most natural thing in the world for a male and female to do together. In just a few seconds I am going to come inside your vagina. Any moment now…”

True to my prediction, I attained an orgasm within seconds. Ropes of warm semen were launched from my phallus into Becky’s pussy. The feeling was excellent. I continue to slide Becky up and down my rod for the ultimate in carnal pleasure. I ejaculated continuously for the better part of 30 seconds. The feeling I experienced was utterly fantastic—and I told Becky so.

“Becky, that was the best fuck I’ve had in years—maybe in my lifetime. Let’s make this part of your job here. Every day we’ll have a bath together and finish with a fuck. It will become a tradition for us—a wonderful, sexy tradition. What do you say?”

Becky gushed with happiness as she said, “What do I say? I say that I really like this job, I really like you, Bradford, and I really like having your dick inside me.”

For that remark I gave her a passionate kiss on the lips. It occurred to me that I had fucked Becky Sayers thoroughly before I had kissed her romantically. For some reason, I found that amusing.

We stayed in the tub for a while. I enjoyed washing Becky’s body. I discovered her mop of black hair had a marvelous glow to it once it had been washed properly. She was actually quite good looking—especially when she was embracing me in a bathtub in her birthday suit. I made a mental note to buy her some new clothes to enhance her appearance greatly. I figured a pretty female, as Becky Sayer certainly was, deserved to own some truly nice clothing.

When we dried ourselves off and dressed, I placed a $5 bill in Becky’s hand, told her to hurry home to tell her parents that I had hired her as a housekeeper, cook and general companion. The $5 was an advance payment for her services (of all types!). But she should return as soon as possible to start preparing an evening meal that we could share.

Becky was excellent in the kitchen. She said she had been helping her mother make meals for as long as she could remember. We talked about many things during that meal. Becky had trouble comprehending how I could make a fortune just from “writing words”. She also was fixated on our sexy bath from that afternoon.
“Whenever Daddy puts his penis in my pussy,” she said, “he always pulls it out of me before the white gooey stuff comes out. He said if he didn’t do that, it would be a very big sin.”

“Well, yes,” I began. “Becky, I’d say fucking your own daughter is a sin whether or not your father came inside you or not.”

“You came inside me with lots of your gooey stuff, Bradford, and it felt very nice. That wasn’t a sin, was it?”

“No, it was a fantastic sexual adventure,” I confirmed. “You know what? I might have to write about it sometime. Maybe I’ll pen a short story about you and me having sex in a big bathtub. I bet lots of people would like to read about that. I know I would!”

Becky didn’t seem too interested in my grandiose plans to immortalize her on paper. Instead, she asked me, “What happens to that gooey stuff when it goes inside my pussy, Bradford? Does it do anything to me?”

“Well, sometimes something happens,” I admitted. “I don’t want to talk about that right now, though. It would complicate my life.”

“Okay,” Becky said, easily accepting my evasive reply.

“I think I feel like having another loving fuck with my housekeeper friend,” I announced. “This time let’s go to my bedroom and have a wonderful screw, Becky. My penis has some more sticky goo ready for you.”

“Are you going to shoot it in my pussy like you did this afternoon in the bathtub?” she asked me anxiously.

“No, I intend to deposit it someplace else where it can’t possibly cause any trouble at all,” I claimed.

“Where is that?” Becky asked.

“Becky, honey, let’s just say it will be your dessert following this excellent meal you made for us. I’m really going to like having you around this house all summer.”