Jean Engels Ch. 01

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Do not read if sexually explicit material offends you, or if you are under the legal age or if laws prohibit reading explicit material where you live.

Jean Engels was of normal intelligence. Her mother, Agatha, had her tested at the grade school and was happy to announce to anyone who cared to listen that her little girl had scored an even one hundred on the standard IQ test. Her mother’s problem was she had no one to listen.

Devout Christians who recognized no church, they believed them all to be corrupt and primarily concerned with their voracious appetite for raising money. They had no use for schools where things were taught that contradicted the Bible. Their only child was home-schooled and rigorously protected from any and every aspect of life, pleasant or unpleasant.

Jean was raised isolated on a farm with essentially no contact with anyone outside her parents, she lived a stark and barren existence and opportunities for social relations were as rare as rain in Phoenix.

If there was a worldwide contest based on beauty alone, Jean would win without a whimper of protest. The mothers of the other contestants would vote for her if they could vote. She had thick, luxurious, tawny colored hair that reached to her waist, its fibrous body and abundance created layers upon layers of cascading, bronzed curls with sun-bleached highlights accenting her magnificent mane.

Her face could have launched a million starships. With a high forehead, slightly squared, her eyebrows were a darker natural hue than her hair. They arched high and heavy over her dark, thick, long eyelashes. Her bronze-colored eyes had tiny flecks of gold. Her nose was thin, slightly curved upward into a tiny tilt. Her cheekbones, jaw line and chin formed a perfectly contoured face. Her most striking feature was her mouth with full, rich lips that dipped a tiny bit on each side, lending the appearance of a perpetual pout.

Some Mediterranean confluence of genes made her body naturally pigmented to give her a perfect tan unless exposed to the sun where it would turn quite dark. She avoided too much sun by covering herself when working outside and wearing a huge bonnet. Her breasts were large and round with generous, golden tan aureoles and nipples that cast visible shadow in her top even when not erect. Her waist was narrow, her tummy very muscular from carrying baled hay. Her gorgeous hips were beautifully rounded. Her legs were long and very shapely, the muscles sinewy and well toned.

If a girl of such perfect beauty had been raised in less isolation, she would have gleaned all sorts of concepts about herself from those around her. If extensively protected, she would have been enormously conceited, convinced that she was so superior and special that a normal person would have no right to be around her. With less protection, she would have been so cruelly exploited for her beauty that her soul would have retreated into any number of dark and serious aberrations.

Jean Engels was of normal intelligence but she had such a simple, unsuspecting nature that, when her rosy little world crumbled, she was prime prey for every predator; she was a bird with a broken wing in an alley full of ravenous, feral cats.

Her existence was shattered by a series of bad decisions by her father. He had been plowing in the bottomland and on his way back, he decided to pull a stump remaining from a tree he had cut down the previous year. Now every farmer knows to pull a stump with the tractor in reverse but it was a small stump that had rotted for over a year and it was so much trouble to tie on to it from the front of the tractor.

How could he know the tap root reached ten yards under the earth? He tied on with a trace chain and set the tractor in motion. When the slack was taken from the chain, the powerful pulling wheels, unable to budge the stubborn stump, lifted the front end of the tractor high into the air and then rotated completely to land upside down. The steering wheel plunged through the farmer’s chest, killing him instantly.

His wife and daughter tried vainly to keep the farm. They had nowhere to go. But even with the prodigious labor of the father, the farm had barely survived. Without him, the bills began to mount and Agatha soon realized it was hopeless. With no relatives of her own to turn to, Agatha remembered her husband’s sister, Frieda.

When Jean was just a baby, Frieda came to visit and talked them into keeping her daughter born out of wedlock eight years before. Because of her reputation, she could not find work in the community and was moving to a big city to make a new start. She planned to send for her daughter as soon as she was settled.

Agatha remembered that they had been pretty hard on the eight-year-old as though to punish her for her mother’s awful sin. On a farm everyone has to pull their own weight. The only way they could feed her was if she contributed enough labor to cover the expense. Agatha felt with a twinge of conscience that they had extracted more than görükle escort enough labor from the little girl named Mona. Her husband had no qualms about it since she was illegitimate and born of sin.

As things turned out, Frieda married a nerdy guy who knew a lot about computers and built them in his basement. She came and got Mona immediately. Agatha remembered a letter from Frieda later that explained her husband conceived some wiring improvements that he sold to a gut named Gates for enough money that he was set for life. Her husband ranted about the injustice that a loose woman like Frieda would be so unjustly rewarded while honest, God-fearing people had to sweat blood to claw a living from the blackland soil with weather so hot and dry that nothing would grow but the cracks in the ground.

Agatha searched through several boxes of papers, her husband never threw away anything and she found the letter that was signed ‘Frieda Bates’. She called Information in the city and finally located several listings with the last name of ‘Bates’ but no ‘Frieda’ or ‘Mona’. Knowing that she could not pay the phone bill anyway, she dialed each number. After several attempts, Agatha’s desperation grew with each failure as she became convinced she would not be able to locate her only relative. Nervously, she dialed the next number, her anxiety rose with each ring as she realized there were only a few numbers left and if she failed to find Frieda, she had no idea what she would do. She listened to the irritating dial tone for several minutes and then a loud click as the phone was picked up. “Hello?”

“Is this Frieda Finch, er, I mean, Bates?”

“No, this is Mona. Frieda’s my mother and she is traveling abroad. Who am I talking to?”

“This is Agatha Engels; you stayed with us at our farm when you were eight years old. My husband was killed and…we lost the farm and need a place to stay. Just me and my daughter, you remember Jean as a baby?”

“Quite well, I remember being the one who had to get up and hold her to your titty so that you could get a few more minutes of sleep.”

“You didn’t seem to mind when you took some of the milk for yourself while my tit was bared.” Mona was a little embarrassed by that, she never thought the woman noticed when she sucked her titty after the baby was finished.

Still very reluctant to have country bumpkins in her house, Mona searched for ways to end the conversation. Agatha realized she was losing her only chance. “We are certainly willing to work for our keep, we’ll do anything and you really should meet Jean, she has grown into a very beautiful girl.”

Mona remembered how beautiful Agatha was despite her hard life on the farm and the prospect of her young and beautiful daughter, both completely desperate and at her mercy was too tempting to pass up. “All right, maybe I do owe you something for taking me in when I was eight. Are you coming by bus? Call when you get in and I will send someone to meet you. I doubt if you want to pay for a cab. Do you have enough for bus tickets?”

“Yes, I think I can manage that but not much more.”

Agatha spent the last of her money on bus tickets to Dallas. The bus was basically deserted so Agatha and Jean were occupying seats by themselves. They had room to stretch out and lay down. Passing through a larger town, the bus picked up a woman who looked to be about twenty-five dressed in jeans and T-shirt. She looked rather tough as she strolled to the back glancing idly around until she saw Jean, the ravishing beauty. Jean was leaning against the window with her legs stretched out across the seat. Agatha was occupying the seat in front of her.

“Scoot over. Your ticket don’t cover two seats.” The woman said as she stopped at the side of the seat where Jean sat.

“I’m sorry.” Jean apologized as she slid her gorgeous legs to the floor.

“Now, just a minute,” Agatha said, “this is my daughter and there’s plenty of room without you crowding her up in a corner.”

“You better shut up and mind some of your own business or you’re going to be trying to look back here with your eyes swollen shut.”

Agatha, stung by a moment of terror, spun around and rigidly faced the front of the bus.

“I know,” the woman said to Jean, “if you want to stretch your legs out, you can sit in my lap and stretch ’em out as much as you like.”

“That’s very kind of you, Sir, I mean, Ma’am.” She raised her spectacular body and slid over to sit down with her curvaceous bottom resting squarely on the thighs of the woman who groaned in her serendipity as Jean twisted her lovely buttocks, grinding her hemispheres down into the woman’s crotch as she turned to stretch out her shapely legs. Jean certainly did not want to be this near to the frightful woman but when she saw the way she rebuked her mother, she was careful not to provoke her. When she realized the woman liked it, she wiggled around on her lap, grinding her ass into the hard thighs in hopes of appeasing the fearsome görükle escort bayan stranger.

“My name’s Jake.” The woman said as she placed her left hand on Jean’s hip. With her right hand, she reached and began to unbutton Jean’s blue jeans, “I think you’d be more comfortable if we loosened these tight pants a little.”

Panic struck, Jean decided she better be agreeable. “Oh, that does feel better. I’ve almost outgrown these britches and they are a little tight around the waist. But you needn’t unbutton them all the way down.” Jean had never been exposed to anything sexual and had no idea what was happening to her as the woman fumbled with the buttons of her jeans. She only knew that it felt strangely wonderful every time the woman’s hand brushed against her panties. Much of her fear abated as her thighs were parted and the woman pushed her hand under the jeans to cup her pussy and caress it with a gentleness that bordered on reverence.

“These are so tight on you that I might need to rub you a little to restore circulation, you could develop terrible cramps in your pretty legs.” Jake explained as she began to massage Jean’s painfully provocative pussy through the white cotton panties. Fondling her pussy was awakening powerful passions in Jake.

In Jean, emotions were being unleashed that she had never experienced before, feelings she’d never suspected even existed. She had never been brainwashed into thinking sexual things were evil; she’d been raised as though sexual things did not exist.”That does seem to help but maybe you could rub it better if I could spread my legs more.”

“Why don’t I take your pants down then to below your knees and you could spread your legs?”

“I can’t let you pull my britches down on a bus.” Jean had no notion that such a thing would be bad; she’d just always been cautioned to keep herself covered.

“There’s no one awake except that old bag lady and she’s scared of her own shadow.”

“That’s not a bag lady. That’s my mother. What’s a bag lady?”

“A homeless, destitute old woman.”

“Maybe she is, then, I don’t know what destitute means but we are definitely homeless.”

Jean felt a flurry of strange feelings as the woman had worked her tight jeans down past her thighs while they were talking. The hand began rubbing her much more vigorously. Then when Jake widened her own thighs a little, Jean’s rounded bottom sank deeper into her lap and the woman began a strange rhythm as her hips undulated ever so slightly, pressing her pelvis up against Jean’s ass and withdrawing in tiny, jerky movements.

Jean realized from some ingrained sense that she should not allow the woman to press up against her ass in such a manner but the sensuous feelings rendered her unable to deny the delight that was building in her body from the hand massaging now inside her panties and the subtle humping against her rear by the woman’s bouncing pelvic thrusts. When Jake slipped her finger inside Jean’s pussy, her thighs yawed wide of their own volition and offered no resistance.

“I don’t think I should allow you to do what you’re doing to me with your finger.” Jean commented as she tried to dislodge the finger that was driving her so delirious that she squirmed her luscious ass deep into Jake’s lap.

“It doesn’t matter, there’s no one to see.”

Agatha heard snatches of this talk and turned around, “What are you doing to my daughter? Jean, what are you doing with your britches down like that?”

Making a slight concession, Jake withdrew her hand from Jean’s panties. “She’s just trying to get comfortable. It’s a long bus ride. Why do you old women try to make something dirty out of everything that happens? Is it just wistful thinking? Now you better turn around before I pop you upside the head so hard it’ll stun your gran’chil’ren and don’t let me have to tell you again.”

With her mind redundant of stories she had heard of people being brutally murdered in the big city with no one lifting a finger to interfere, Agatha whipped herself back around.

This time when Jake returned her hand inside Jean’s panties to her prominent mound, she slipped two fingers into the moist folds and asked the girl if she wanted her to take her panties off. While Jake’s hand was away, Jean realized that she had grown sort of addicted to having her pussy petted and decided that naked might feel even better as she discovered the delight of rocking her own hips up against Jake’s hand and grinding down deep into the woman’s lap. “You can take them down if you want to. You’re much too strong for me to do anything about it.”

Suddenly driven by the acquiescence of the girl with such unendurable beauty, Jake lifted her and pushed her facedown over the back of the seat her mother occupied, then drew her panties down and off. Jean, surprised by the suddenness of the move, placed one hand on the seat in front, the other landed on her mother’s thigh. Agatha, somehow aroused by the fear and danger she and her daughter escort görükle were being exposed to, reacted erotically to her daughter’s hand pressing into her lap. She widened her own thighs instinctively and Jean’s hand pushed maddeningly against her pussy.

Jake slid Jean’s panties down off her rounded bottom and pushed her mouth into the exposed cleft with her nose pressed hard against the delightful asshole and her tongue deep into the furrow of the girl’s pussy. Beside herself with intense, incomprehensible arousal, Jean widened her thighs as much as the panties around them permitted and let herself be taken to erotic plateaus she had never even imagined. Her own hand was worked inside her mother’s skirt with a little bit of subtle manipulation from the keenly aroused woman. Agatha breathlessly humped her pussy against her daughter’s hand as she wildly rocked her hips. All three women were soon moaning in ecstasy.

Jean Engels rode the rest of the way with her saucy rear perched on Jake’s generous, welcoming lap. She had left her panties off but spread her blue jean jacket over her thighs to protect her modesty and cover Jake’s hand which continued to play with her pussy at a leisurely pace. Jake had a flask of bourbon and they passed it around quite frequently.

Agatha was in a very spirited mood, having experienced the first orgasm of her life and she sat beside Jake with Jean’s feet cuddled in her lap. She played with her daughter’s toes and, when Jake told her to, despite her huge embarrassment, she bent over and sucked on each of her daughter’s big toes. Jean giggled in girlish delight as her mother continued to lave her toes and even the soles, though Jake had said nothing about that.

“Well, Momma. At least I won’t have to worry about washing my feet before going to bed tonight.”

“If we find a bed tonight.” Agatha observed while continuing to lick her daughter’s feet and suck her toes. She was in such a good mood after reaching orgasm by rubbing her pussy against Jean’s hand. Her life was in complete turmoil and she was adrift in a strange place, severed from everything she had ever known. The combination of unexpected sexual ecstasy and her gnawing uncertainty about their precarious future caused a fundamental change in her. She had fought futilely for the farm under the conviction the Lord would provide and she ended with a one-way ride on a bus with a domineering woman who took control of her and her daughter. Most of her moral precepts were not deeply internalized convictions but were merely absorbed from her family and her husband and were not likely to endure much longer than her family and husband had. Less than gradually she was adopting an attitude of doing whatever was necessary to survive.

“You might want to get your pants back on; we’re at the outskirts of the city.” Jake announced.

“Why, Jean, have you been sitting in her lap all this time without even your panties on?” Agatha asked as Jean had to stand to get into her pants. She tried to sound indignant but could not keep a slightly drunken grin from spreading across her face as she stared a little lustfully at her daughter’s darling pussy, the tawny hairs fluffed out by Jake’s fingers.

“Momma, she said she didn’t mind feeling up my pussy but she doesn’t like to feel it through a pair of panties.” Jean announced this startling statement as casually as she would have talked about the weather.

Inside the bus stop, they were pleased to find a man who worked for Mona and was going to take them in a car. The man’s name was Mike and the car was big and black. Jake would have liked to prolong her acquaintance with them but Mike looked pretty formidable and not near as easy to fool as these two country bumpkins. She beat a hasty retreat, joyful that she had been on the bus.

Both the mother and the daughter were very impressed with the style in which Mona lived, to hire a man to do nothing but drive her car around. Agatha thought if she could have afforded to hire him, she could have saved the farm.

“Jean, honey.” Agatha asked when the partition to the front seat was raised.

“What, Momma?”

“If you miss Jake’s finger, I could do it for you.” She suggested nervously.

By way of response, Jean lifted her hips as high as her mother’s face and undid the buttons, then slipped both the pants and the panties down to her knees. As she sat back down, she said, “You better hurry up, I don’t know how long this ride will last.”

Agatha plunged her finger deeply inside her daughter’s cunt and worked it deliriously until it became so wet and aroused that she could manage another finger inside. Jean moaned the whole way and tried to get her thighs wider to give her mother better access.

Mona’s house was magnificent with three stories and lights burning on every floor. Agatha shuddered at what her electric bill was going to be. The car pulled into a great circular drive and Mike got out, opened the back door and helped each lady out. They walked up the porch steps, also large and circular. The door swung open as they approached and they saw a very elegant, beautiful woman in a billowy black chiffon dressing gown that reached to the floor. The black was relieved by a daring slit up the side that exposed a gorgeous leg all the way to the waist.

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