John Byron Belville’s Tall Tales Told: Cousin Lena

You will notice there is no rhyme nor reason in placement of these tales. They are just remembrances that I have experienced in my life that my one love, Jackie Sue Belville, told me I should write down for posterity. That, of course, would mean you. So here goes. A trip into the exciting life of ol’ Johnny B.

Uncle Evert was another strange case.  You need to understand that the Belville’s have a history of raising up weirdos.  It’s in their DNA: weirdness.  Uncle Evert was no exception.  He begged, borrowed and what ever else he could do to buy his farm in Pingree, but all that would grow there were rocks.  Every year, new rocks would appear as if by magic.  They would be gone when Evert picked ’em up and stacked ’em by the back fence, but next year after the frost left the ground, there they were again: a new crop of lovely lava rocks.  Finally, Evert just gave up and raised livestock instead of crops.  He was moderately successful at this endeavor, but still he couldn’t match his brother’s, my dad’s, success.  Dad felt sorry for his brother and loaned him money occasionally and said it was for taking me on for the summers that I stayed with him.

I have no exciting tales to tell about Uncle Evert except to say he had three of the most beautiful daugters you ever did see.  No kidding.  Uncle Evert and his wife Birdie kicked out some very lovely ladies.  Then there was Otto.  Otto was younger that me and he was also a good deal slower that me upstairs.  I could get Otto to do most anything I wanted him to do.  We got into some scrapes at the farm and had to be disciplined by my uncle several times, but nothing major.

Back to the daughters.  Lena was her name.  Age? 16 with breasts that would be the envy of any 30 year old.  I made it my mission while at Uncle Evert’s to espy Lena’s every move hoping for … you know what … nakedness, of course.  One day we, Otto and I, decided it would be fun to go swimming down at the canal that ran near the farm.  Lena said she would go also.  Otto, idiot that he was, tried to talk her out of coming in spite of me kicking him in the shins and shaking my head constantly.  Finally, he agreed when Lena said she would tell Daddy that we were being mean to her. Not me! I’d never be mean to Lena.

At the swimming spot on the canal, we disrobed.  I had a pair of shorts I would ware for trunks and Otto would do the same.  Lena said, “But I don’t have a suit.”

It was my move, “Just wear what you got on, that’s what we’re doing.”

Lena nodded, shed her t-shirt – OMG no bra – her pants; she did have panties though.  My dreams had come true at the young age of 12.  I had seen my first boob and when wet my first ‘camel toe’.  I was deliriously happy.  But that wasn’t the end of the story…oh no sir.

Lena was one of those touchy feely kind of gals.  She liked to get close and personal with you.  She would take you hand while talking to you, or she would put her arm around your shoulders and walk a ways with you side-by-side.  She didn’t mean anything by it, it was just her nature.

In the water, seeing all that lushness, I had the natural thing happen to me that all boys can relate to; Mr. Johnson was at attention.  Lena, I think unintentionally, slipped up behind me in the water, threw her arms around me playfully, but unexpectedly and I spun around giving her an up-close and personal touchy-feely of my own…unintentionally, of course.  She pushed up against me and whispered in my ear, “You’re not read yet, Byron.  Maybe next year.”

Unfortunately, that was my last year at Uncle Evert’s.  I was old enough to take on vacations with mom and dad when I turned 13.  I still pine for that girl…but she would be in her eighties by now and gravity, well, you know what gravity does to the bod.

Before this is all over, I will cover my married life’s ups and downs, emphasizing the fun stuff mainly without all the pains and agonies along the way…

But for now, I am telling the tales of my misspent youth.