Nineteen. Perfect age for wild discoveries. Summer at my grandparents’ farm in the sticks. No money, no people. Bored as fuck. Afternoons wandering woods, fields, along the river. Jumping fences. Hitting that stocked pond often. Private property, barbed wire everywhere. Fishermen’s shack, table, wooden benches. I’d sneak in, sometimes poach fish. Only ran into her once: Marie-Claude, the owner’s daughter. She chewed me out hard. ‘Get out! Private land!’ Threatened cops, her dad. Waved a thick stick. Voice gravelly, commanding. Scary bitch. I slunk away. Thirties, tough. Boots, muddy pants, cowboy shirt. Lived alone across from church. Rumors: dyke, weirdo. Ugly face, greasy hair, no boyfriends. We had nothing in common. Except solitude. Loving nature. Two weeks later, forgot all about it. Early afternoon, near the shack. Spot a shape by the reeds. Her. Marie-Claude, sprawled in grass. Groans. Soft moans. Curiosity hits. Sneak closer, up the slope. Perfect view. Pants down. Hand between thighs. Rubbing her pussy. First time seeing a girl jack off. Thought only guys did that. Especially not her type. Instant hard-on. Pull out my cock—no undies today. Stroke slow. Watching her fingers work. Heart pounds. Forbidden rush. Adrenaline spikes. What if caught? Thrill doubles.