This is the final chapter in the Shelly's Secret story. All parties were over 18 when this occurred.
I would like to take this opportunity to give credit to Grania2, a volunteer editor here at Literotica. I owe a huge debt of gratitude for the time spent bringing this entire series to life.
Readers of my story always seem interested in the first time I got to do my sister. In some ways it is easy to write about because the memory is so vividly etched in my mind. It is also difficult because of the personal nature of it. I had never planned on sharing this, but due to the constant requests here it is.
*****
It had been almost a year since I had started spying on Shelly. My own sex life was centered vicariously on enjoying her sex life. As I mentioned before, I had tried to have a go at her almost right off. I'm not sure I knew all of her reasons for not letting me do her, but I respected her decision, and never pestered her about it. I felt darn lucky just to be a spectator to her wild antics.
This all happened during the following summer. My grandmother was still around then. She still lived on the farm where our mom had grown up. It was about thirty miles away. There was some problem with her drinking water well having gone bad. Even though I had a great-uncle who still ran livestock on the property, Mom felt we should all go up there for a few days.
Grandma's farm was a split section of a larger farm that had been subdivided among family. Grandpa had some 60 or so acres of it. The remainder was divided among two other brothers. One shared the property line and still farmed and ran cattle on Grandma's portion. This worked well for all because he also maintained the barn, mowed grass as needed, and checked in on Grandma.
We all went up for the weekend and were to stay a few days into the week. I had been helping my dad all weekend doing odd jobs. On Monday Mom and Dad were going to take Grandma into town. They had to arrange for some repairs to the water system. Shelly and I choose to stay at the farm. The small town had nothing of interest for youngsters anyway.
It was late June and days were already hot by the afternoon. Shelly and I had planned to go fishing down at a small pond out past the barn. The pond was actually a dammed up creek where cattle watered during the driest times of the year. It was a picturesque setting. Tall marsh grasses surrounded the water's edge. Mature birch trees lined the original creek bed. There always seemed to be a breeze there. White pieces of bark often fell onto the surface of the pond, and sailed like little boats, until they ended up stuck on the banks. There was a narrow path beginning just past the barn. I guess, the cattle had worn this route. We had to pass through a small field and a couple gates to reach the pond.
Shelly and I had gotten a late start. It was probably past ten o'clock. We stopped at the barn along the way. I needed to find a shovel to dig for worms. The barn was a maze of rooms on the ground floor. Grandpa's tool room was just inside the door. The barn was still used a shelter for the cattle my great uncle kept. The barn bore the intense smell of manure and the musky odor of stored bedding and feed kept up in the lofts.
I located a suitable shovel and found a promising dig site back outside. Shelly was still nosing around in the barn, and must have been checking out the newest calves. I finished my dig and had a reasonable supply of thick worms. As I headed back in to return the shovel I caught sight of Shelly over near the stalls. Several cows were nursing their young. I asked if she was still interested in fishing or not. She immediately jumped down off the gates and headed over towards me.
Near the door we passed a large stripped animal blanket. It was hung over a stall rail. Shelly grabbed it. Just outside the door, she snapped it shaking off the dust. She folded it a couple times and tucked it under her arm. I carried the poles, bait and a metal bucket and we headed off.
Shelly led the way to the pond. She was barefoot, which was her usual. She was wearing a red and white plaid sleeveless blouse. Somehow she had gotten out of the house wearing her favorite jean cut-offs. Mom scowled each time she tried to wear them. They were an old pair of faded out denims Shelly had cut off herself. Of course they were very short, and after repeated washings the loose fringe at the bottom began creeping up to where the bottom of Shelly's butt was just about visible. Mom had been threatening to throw them out for some time. She didn't deem them proper for a young girl. Maybe being out here where no one would see her Mom had relented, or just hadn't noticed.
During the past year Shelly had matured. Her hips now had some curve to them and she had filled out more on top. I was maybe ten feet back and was amused at her carefree gait. Maybe it's just me, but some girls just seem to develop a swing to their hip as they move. That was Shelly.
The loose tails of her blouse covered her butt, but the slightest breeze managed to give a guy a short glimpse of a very fine ass working against the stretched denim fabric of her shorts. She was carrying her flip-flops by one finger over her shoulder. It was unlikely she'd ever put them on though. She spent most of the day, even around a barnyard area, barefoot. Looking down I noticed she had already darkened the bottoms of both feet.
The pond was maybe a hundred or so feet across at its widest point. Grandpa had built a small table and bench near one bank. The grass was kept mowed back by my great uncle, and a worn path usually ringed the entire pond.
We dropped our stuff off on the table, and set about rigging our poles. We kind of split off and started sizing up the likely spots.
The farm was an ideal place to be as kids. Being so far out, no other people were around to bother us. There was a warm summer breeze blowing across the fields. The pond itself was kind of in a little dip. Almost easy to miss unless you knew it was there.
We were set, and began our individual effort to land the days catch. I was probably maybe fifteen to twenty feet from Shelly. The only sound other than the wind was that of the crickets and grasshoppers as they sang from the surrounding weeds.
As I made my way along the banks, I'd jump each time I flushed a bullfrog from the shallows. They would croak loudly, and make a dash for the safety of deeper water. I could hear Shelly snickering at this. She had chosen to stay put. There was not much shade on the side where we were standing, so I continued working along the bank.
I had gotten maybe thirty to forty feet from Shelly. When I looked back at her I couldn't help but noticed she had unbuttoned her blouse. It was opened all the way down in the front. The flaps of her blouse caught in the breeze and exposed her right down to her belly button. She was standing in a sunny spot, and must have thought this would help her stay cool. I hadn't noticed until just then, that she had not been wearing a bra.
I'm not sure of how many times I snagged, or failed to notice my bait being stolen? I was trying not to be real obvious as I continued to steal as many glances as possible. When Shelly reared back to cast, I could swear one breast became completely visible.
