Every story has a beginning; this one begins in a few more paragraphs. Ryan Nathan Alexander will be riding his blue New Holland tractor in the nude. It's a Boomer tractor designed to be used on hobby farms. Boomer tractors are compact twenty-six-horsepower tractors sold to successful upper-middle-class people who never grow crops. They own enough land that a sixty-inch belly mower is needed to cut all the grass they cultivate to make their three-thousand-square-foot home appear neat.
That was, I mean to say, that IS Ryan, sort of.
He is naked because he likes to tan while he cuts his grass. It's a three-hour job to cut several acres of grass surrounding his home and in the walnut tree field. Three hours is just enough time to be toasted without being burned.
He’s not a pervert. He just loves the feeling of being clothing-free and feeling the summer sun dry roast his body to a healthy shade of brown. As a younger man, he'd hated how his body looked when he stood naked in front of a mirror. He could see his tanned brown arms, face, and thighs, and how healthy and vibrant they were. They contrasted with the pale white skin that was always covered by his shorts and T-shirts. The white skin looked unhealthy at best and vampire-pallid at worst.
He had no tan lines now. Cutting the grass while naked on his Blue Newie tractor changed all of that. It was the best way to “take a tan” and be productive. After all, he didn’t get where he did in life by being unproductive.
He owned twenty acres, a new home, a tractor, a trailer, and a pickup truck. All that remained was the right woman to share it with. Right women were hard to come by in remote and rural Wisconsin. At the age of thirty-eight, he wondered if he’d find one in his area.
Riding his tractor, Ryan wears a large-brimmed hat and leather sandals. Both of them for protection. No ball caps. No flip-flops. Successful adult men don't wear baseball caps unless they are playing baseball. Flip flops are for the beach.
Ryan's Dad taught him these things, as well as the etiquette of hats. Men take their hats off to honor women, to enter a home or church, and to be comfortable among other men of like kind. Ryan's Dad also taught him that sportswear was for sports, not shopping or working. He also set realistic expectations of how teenaged boys became successful men. Ryan walked in his father's shoes. He was frugal, not cheap; truthful, not political; and he worked for the good of his soul and not for material success, but material prosperity came along anyway.
Ryan will be cutting the grass in the walnut field today, Saturday, July 3rd. The sun-and-shadow dappled grass is a bit sparse. There's no breeze among the leafy branches now. The sun is almost at its zenith and Ryan's butt, and his privates, sweat into the leather tractor seat when he's in the direct sun. The walnut canopy provides some shade, a respite in the field.
…And this is the third time twenty-eight-year-old Kelly McGowan sees Ryan mow grass in the nude.
Kelly was shocked the first time she saw Ryan riding naked on his tractor. She had stood in the tree line between two pieces of property and stared as he maneuvered his tractor up and down and among the rows of black walnut trees. His muscular thighs had a slight sheen of sweat. So too, his back and arms. There wasn't much to see when he came straight on or went straight away; the engine housing hid most everything that piques a twenty-eight-year-old woman's interest. But when he turned and rode at an angle to her, she could see all she wanted to see.
Kelly masturbated to an apocalyptic shudder the second time she saw him naked on the tractor. She came quickly with her hand in her Irish-pennant jean shorts. She surprised herself at just how fast it happened. More than the tractor was sexy. This slightly mature man is handsome, hatted, and tanned. Riding naked underneath a blue sky, a warm sun, and in a field of green-leaved walnut trees… this was a masturbation fantasy come true.
This is Kelly's fifth visit to the walnut field. She's hoping to catch Ryan naked on his tractor. Two previous trips were unsuccessful. She arrives prepared to peep and to masturbate. Water bottle, seat cushion, crop top, flip-flops, no bra or panties, and shorts with an elastic waistband that could be quickly pulled down and then up, if needed. Kelly hoped the long green grass signaled Ryan would mow today.
This is now the beginning of Ryan’s Story.
At the edge of the walnut field, Ryan stripped off his Margaritaville T-shirt and his tan cargo shorts and draped them over a walnut branch. He put his cold bottle of tea in the cup holder, slipped his feet into his sandals, and pushed the large-brimmed hat back on his head before settling into the tractor's leather seat. Ryan adjusted his testicles for comfort. Then he turned the key halfway and waited for the glowlight to turn off; he turned the key further to start the diesel engine. The belching and bellowing of his tractor gave way to the mellow, deep, thrum as Ryan pushed the throttle forward and pressed down on the forward pedal of the tractor.
His pattern was simple. The left side of the mower deck against the tree, the exhaust into the center of each row. One pass on each side of the row and then one down the middle. He ducked a lower branch occasionally and was thankful he had trimmed the limbs high enough to pass underneath most of them.
It was hot. The sweat on Ryan's body had a beautiful sheen. He finished his tea in the first hour and wished he'd brought two bottles. His urge to pee occurred about halfway through the mow.
Kelly was startled when the sounds of the tractor mower stopped. She’d already masturbated to Ryan’s tanned body and handsome face. She’d been dozing comfortably in the warm sun on her seat cushion; she'd been indulging her post-orgasmic bliss. Her crop top was pulled above her berry-like nipples and breasts. Her shorts were rolled up as a pillow for her head. Her white breasts and her nicely-trimmed white cunny were taking a tan of their own. She’d cast aside her flip-flops earlier.
The silence in the walnut field hung in the air. It was waiting to be filled with something; some sound of some kind, but there was nothing except the distant braying of a mule from an Amish farm. Kelly raised herself up on her elbows to see why Ryan stopped mowing.
There he was. Hat on his head, sandals on his feet, one hand holding his penis and balls, the other arm stretched into the air like a bronco bull rider. He looked like he was line dancing.
“What the hell?” Kelly whispered to herself. She drew herself up for a better look.
Ryan made a turn to the left. He couldn't see Kelly, but he now faced her. She could see everything Ryan had to offer, and it was a hell of a sight to behold. He did a grapevine to the right, grapevine to the left, took three steps back, waggled his butt twice, moved two steps forward, and then stepped out wide in two counts and peed a small stream onto the ground. Ryan jumped his feet together, turned ninety degrees, and with a grapevine to the right, he began his dance again.
Kelly stifled her laugh with her hand. This man was line dancing and peeing! Kelly's bemused look said it all. Who the hell was this man?
Ryan was oblivious to everything except the music in his head and counting the steps until he peed again. When he finished his fourth wall of the line dance, he continued to pee until his bladder was empty.
Kelly smiled broadly. It was so cute, she crushed on Ryan. This was the most endearing sight she'd seen a naked man perform.
Two seconds later, Kelly screamed!
Looking down, she saw dozens of ticks crawling on her pubic hair and her legs.
“FUCKING TICKS!”
Kelly scrambled to her feet, brushing at her groin.
Ryan heard the scream and turned to see a young woman slapping vigorously at her vagina. Ryan ripped his hat off his head, clutched his hat to his privates, and bolted through the walnut trees to reach her.
“Fucking ticks!” Kelly shouted again.
She slapped and brushed herself as Ryan rushed towards her.
"Damn ticks!" She shouted one more time. She looked up momentarily and saw Ryan was almost upon her. She turned her back to him and her attention to her pubic area again.
Ryan scanned her back, her backside, and her legs. He used one hand to brush several ticks off her butt.
“None on your butt or legs now.” Ryan stood back, looking for signs he might have missed anything.
“This is so embarrassing,” Kelly spoke sotto voce and continued her search as best she could.
“No worries. It’s more important you don’t have more on you. Let’s get out of this tall grass and into the cut grass.”
“It’s just so embarrassing.”
Ryan picked up her shorts and water bottle in one hand as Kelly grabbed her flip flops. She used the seat cushion to cover herself. His hat never leaving his privates in the process, Ryan snapped her shorts in the air a few times; inspecting them to be sure they were free of ticks before reaching out to hand her the bottle and her shorts.
"Don't put them on yet. It's awkward for both of us so far, but it's about to get more so. If you put your shorts on before someone inspects you down there, you're asking for trouble."
The full import of his words made Kelly blush.
Kelly knew he was right. It would be a problem if a female tick burrowed into the warm moist area of her labia and began to work itself under her skin. Kelly shuddered. The idea of it burrowing into her labia, or any place else down there, was revolting.
She looked into Ryan’s eyes, ready to condemn his immortal soul to hell if he said the wrong fucking thing.
"I know, I know," Ryan nodded and shrugged. "This isn't what either of us had in mind when the day started, but here is where we are, and this is what needs to be done."
Kelly felt the truth of his words at the same time as she saw the movement just below Ryan’s navel.
“You have a tick, too. It’s above your…hat.” Kelly pointed with one finger while clutching the seat cushion to her body.
Looking down, Ryan had Kelly’s water bottle and shorts in one hand while his other hand held his hat; you could read the conflict on his face. Looking back into Kelly’s eyes again, Ryan ruefully pursed his lips and slowly put his hat on his head. Picking off the tick, Ryan flicked it to the side.
With an exaggerated sigh, he said, "Guess we better introduce ourselves if we’re going to do this. I’m Ryan.”
Ryan took his hat off his head as respectfully as he could, just as his dad taught him, and then covered his privates again. Ryan knew covering up was the right thing to do, although this was not an area in which his Dad would have given him a life lesson.
“Kelly.” She croaked her own name and then blushed.
"I'm thinking I should check you first, but if you have different thoughts, let me know.“
The tension was palpable. Kelly was the conflicted one now. It took her several seconds to come to terms with what Ryan had said earlier: Here is where we are, and this is what needs to be done.
“Oh, for God’s sake. I want my shorts back on. Let’s get this over with.”
In a flash, Kelly dropped the seat cushion to the ground, seated her butt on it, lay back, and spread her legs wide.
"This is so embarrassing," Kelly muttered again. She couldn't look Ryan in the eye. He must know by now she'd been masturbating. Why else would a woman be naked from the waist down in a walnut field? And now, here she was, showing her pussy like a cam girl after midnight. She wasn't judging, she was comparing her actions…and she was embarrassed.
Ryan was not her lover. He was a handsome stranger, and this was a walnut field in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin. What might Ryan think about her after this? Kelly shuddered slightly at the thought. This is not who she usually was. But this is where she is at.
Ryan dropped to his knees, placed his hat on the ground, and paused. This is a dream come true. A near-nude woman open for his inspection. He couldn't help but notice her crop top had slid up a little. Her nipples strained against the fabric while her underboob showed below. He could see she had a tan line around her breasts. His mouth watered and he swallowed. He couldn't help himself. She was pretty.
“I’ll be quick. Sorry, but I’ll have to touch you.“
"I know. Be thorough. Don't be so quick you miss the little bastards. I hate them. I'll hold my legs up, but…oh, my God, I can't believe I 'm saying this to you… you'll have to open me to make sure I don't have any ticks where nothing is supposed to be."
