In rural Pennsylvania, the county fair is still a big deal. Most counties in coal country still have them. It's understood that most kids are going to skip school to go to the fair, so they shorten the school day that Friday to accommodate. Coincidentally, school is usually closed on the first day of deer season too, though that's more of an unofficial state holiday. Hardly anyone, except for transplants from the city, is working on the first day of rifle season. It's a different lifestyle, a different mentality, and everyone comes back the next day with stories about the one they got or the one that got away. This story is about one that got away. She was beautiful, sexy, and silly. She was a fox that I had little hope of being able to outwit.

I remember the day my buddy Chet dared me to ask her to the county fair. I had just gotten my license, which meant I was finally an eligible contender among the guys at our school. It had taken me a while to pass my driver's test since my old man insisted I take it in a stick shift. It must have been a dozen times he drove me to the DMV in Harrisburg before I was legally able to drive us home. When my grandfather passed away, my dad saved his Pontiac and we fixed it up for me to drive. Chet was hazing me in his usual style as I showed him my new license.

“Wow, man! Just in time for senior year!” Chet snickered. “The babes will be banging on your door for sure!”

Chet was the kind of friend that most people had in high school and then never talked to except at reunions. He wasn't unlikable but he wasn't the kind of friend you kept in touch with. After a while, you got tired of having to try to buy beer to replace the ones he'd steal from your dad's fridge. He was fun but high maintenance. He was also a catalyst for your spirit of adventure, he would push you to do things you would never do, like ask Miranda Benson to the county fair. I didn't want to lose my bet with him so I went over to the table where she was sitting.

She was surrounded by her friends, all of them stuck-up townies. I knew Miranda was from the boonies like me. She lived on a farm off of Stroehecker Road. The only reason I knew that is because my dad had done some work in her dad's barn fixing some storm damage.

Sam Benson was a big man with hands that could crush a cantaloupe and fingers as thick as sausages. He always had his .357 magnum in his pocket and a sawed-off shotgun next to the back door. Miranda's older sister, Amy, once had a peeping tom and ol' Sam used that hot pipe to fill her interloper with both barrels of 00 rock salt.

Sam's youngest daughter, his baby Miranda, was the most beautiful girl ever to walk the halls of our school. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes and dimples. She was a cheerleader, played softball, and was one of the fastest runners I had ever seen. Those short shorts they wore at the track meets really showed off her powerful legs. When she ran, her hair flew wildly behind her despite being in a pony tail and her boobs, oh man, I remember her boobs looked great in those red pinnies. Seeing her run made me think of Baywatch; Pam Anderson running on the beach in that red one-piece. I would love to go out on a date with her, but if her dad decided he didn't like the way I looked at her, I'd be dodging bullets.

“Mike. Mike, did you hear me? Mike!”

Oh shit, how long had I been standing here? I'm sure I had a dumb look on my face. Here goes nothing. “Miranda, hi, I'm Mike,” I said.

“I know who you are. I had American History II with you last year. Honestly, I probably wouldn't have passed if you hadn't let me copy your notes.” She smiled.

Oh, that smile, there was something wholesome and sweet about it. Her smile could end all wars. It made you forget yourself and swim in those bright blue eyes. She had the cutest dimples too, highlighting those nice high cheekbones. I had forgotten that I let her use my notes in study hall last year. Anyhow, back to business. I had to ask her out or I'd have to give Chet twenty bucks.

“Miranda, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the county fair with me tomorrow?” I said. Here we go, the die is cast, no turning back now.

She looked to her friends; they tried to be sneaky about shaking their heads “no”. She looked back up at me. Her lips pursed, I was dying. “Sure! I would love to.” She smiled again.

My knees buckled and I could swear my mouth was so dry it was like I ate a whole box of crackers and had no water.

“Oh, wow! Sure,” I said, “I would love that too!”

She played with her hair and watched me desperately search for something to say. I was stunned she said “Yes”. I might have died. I couldn't be sure. Maybe I was already in Hell and Old Scratch was just fuckin' with me again. I turned to face my friends, they were laughing hysterically. Chet was looking at me quizzically motioning thumbs up or thumbs down. Miranda gave them all two thumbs up and a big wide grin, they laughed and toppled over each other like bowling pins. They were all snickering and pointing, but I had won.

“What time do you want to pick me up, Mike?” she asked.

“Uh, noon? Yeah noon, we can get there early and get a bite to eat,” I replied, regaining some of my composure.

“I can be ready at noon. Pa is gonna want to meet you and all, to make sure you aren't some weirdo like that business with my sister, Amy. Don't you worry about him though, he's a pushover,” Miranda said as she fished a pen out of her purse.

“Uh, okay. I'm sure he's nice,” I said absently.

“Lemme see your hand, I'll write my number down so you don't forget.” She took my hand and wrote her phone number in large swoopy numbers and signed her name with a little heart above the “i”. I was way out of my league here. Her friends stared at me agape.

“Thank you,” I blurted. I was staring at the glittery pink writing on my palm in disbelief. As my eyes focused on my friends I could see that they all had taken to staring as well. Chet nodded in approval.

“Oh, and Mike, don't keep a girl waiting. Daddy won't let any of his girls date slouches. Be there at noon if not a little early,” she said as she got up and left the cafeteria.

I nodded dumbly. Sure I could be there at noon. What time is that? What is time? Should I leave now? It couldn't hurt I guess. When I got back over to the table Chet handed me a twenty. I sat down in front of my sad excuse for a cheese steak and the world and all the clamor of the high school cafeteria fell away. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

I pulled up to the end of the gravel road leading to Miranda's house. There was a sign hanging from the porch with a revolver on it and it read “Forget the dog, beware of owner!” I wore a nice pair of blue jeans and a white T-shirt. I combed my hair and even put on some of my dad's Jovan Musk. I heard a whistling from behind me.

“It's been a while since I seen one of those! A Pontiac Trans Am and I like the color, Cameo White.” I turned and saw Sam; he must have been in the barn.

“You must be Donny's boy, Michael,” he said extending a hand.

“I am,” I said and my voice cracked. I saw a tattoo of an anchor with rope and the initials “USMC”. That's great, that's just really great. Never mind the hand cannon he carries in his overalls or the hog leg duck gun he keeps just inside the door, anything is a weapon in this guy's hands. He caught me staring at his arm.

“That's just a little something I got before I went to 'Nam.” He smiled. “Miranda says you asked her to go to the county fair?” Sam asked, sizing me up.

“Yes, I did,” I said, trying not to sound like a gawky teenager.

He rubbed his bushy, grizzled beard and replied “Well, I have to say you'll be getting there in style, three-speed?” he quizzed.

“Four on the floor, actually,” I replied. He nodded at me approvingly. I cleared my throat and finished with “Sir”. He chuckled and patted the roof as one would pat the neck of a treasured horse.

“You don't have to 'sir' me son, I work for a livin'. I gotta wonder what you and Miranda are gonna talk about if you don't have more than five words to say at a shot.”

“That's cause you're downright scary toward every fella who asks me out,” Miranda chimed in, “Ain't no secret you carry that gun everywhere,” she concluded. She was stunning, she wore a lovely blue baby doll dress and had black ribbons in her curly hair. She had wore modest lipstick and a splash of blush.

“It's for varmints and such. Damn groundhogs got more holes in the backfield than Swiss cheese!” Sam replied, almost indignant.

“Mind your cussin', Daddy, you know Momma don't like it,” Miranda said.

“You're right, Sweet Pea. You two have a good time this afternoon,” he said, hugging her. “Just try to get back at a reasonable time. We're still gonna need help with the chores tomorrow mornin',” Sam said.

“We will, Daddy,” Miranda said. With that, Sam left and my colon descended back down closer to where it belonged. “Is this your car? It's nice, I like old cars,” Miranda said as she ran her finger along the chrome trim and gold pinstripes.

“Yep, my dad saved it after Grandpa died and we got it running,” I said. I was kinda proud now that I heard it said. “Allow me,” I said, opening the passenger door.

She sat in my car and I closed the door with a clunk, older car doors always did that. I raced around to the driver's side and hopped in, eager to put as much distance between me and redneck Rambo as I could. When I got in she smiled at me. I turned the key and we left, a small cloud of dust from the gravel trailed behind us. The whole way there we talked about school and plans for after school. She really wanted to go to beauty school and learn how to cut hair and do make-up. She wanted to open a salon someday.

I wish I had my shit together as much as she did. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I guess I could go to school. She asked me what for and I told her I didn't know. She told me sometimes the journey takes you where you need to go, even if you have no clue how to get there. She was absolutely perfect in every way: beautiful, charming, smart, thoughtful. I wondered why she was here with me and not someone else. What did she see in me?

As I pulled up to the fairgrounds, we smelled the funnel cakes. I parked the car and we made our way to the ticket booth. She leaned over at me and whispered “You can pay. Rather, I guess Chet can pay,” she said as a wicked smile broke across her lips.

“You saw that?” I asked.

“I take it you saw my friends shaking their heads?” she replied.

I nodded. After I paid for the tickets, she took my hand and we went inside.

“I came here with you because you asked me, you would be surprised how few guys ask me out,” she confided. She laced our fingers together. “I want to be here.” She smiled again. “Now let’s go get a funnel cake. My treat this time,” she said as she nodded toward the funnel cake stand.

We sat on the grass and ate our deep-fried treat. She asked me why I was friends with Chet. I told her I wasn't sure why. Honestly, he's kind of a dick. She agreed. She was full of good questions. She told me that she would have never come here with Chet, no matter how horny she was. Did I hear that correctly? She smoothed out the folds of her dress against her legs.

I was feeling kinda bold. “Why did you agree to come with me?” I asked.

“Short answer: You're not Chet. You don't think the world owes you anything. You are not so caught up in wanting others to like you that you're unlikable....and you take really good notes,” she replied. She giggled as she joked with me. I couldn't help but laugh as well, she was intoxicating.

“Thank you. I really like Mr. O'Neil's class. He's really into what he teaches, it kinda gets you excited too. Like when you laugh or smile, I want to laugh and smile.”

“That's why I like you. You're helpful, kind. Chet would have said something stupid, something like 'so I'm some kind of nerd'?!” she lowered her voice in a mock impression of him as she spoke.

She was right. I hadn't really thought about it like that but if she paid him a compliment, he would have blown it off. I felt my confidence draining. I felt like I was way out in the deep end with her, barely treading water, and my toes couldn't find the bottom. In those lovely blue eyes, still waters run deep. She licked her fingers clean, teasing me just a little, then she leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek.

“What was that for?” I asked.

“You looked like you needed it,” she replied.

“Thank you,” I said looking down.

“You're welcome. You know what I need? I need a big, strapping lad to win me a prize at one of these rigged games!” she said, laughing as she playfully slapped my bicep.

“I reckon I might be able ta do that fer ya, little lady,” I said in my best John Wayne. We laughed together.

“Well alright, pilgrim,” she replied in her rendition of his gravelly cadence. She pointed to one of the oversized teddies they always hang prominently to lure in suckers. “I think you should try to win me one of those huge teddy bears, one so big it makes Amy jealous,” she smiled wide as she spoke and her dimples really showed.

“Oh, I don't know,” I said, “I'm not a very good shot.”

I was lying. I could shoot the flies off a cow's ass. I won her the biggest, pinkest bear they had. The snaggle-toothed carney who ran the shooting gallery glared at me. She squeaked and danced with glee as he took it down and handed it to her.

“Wait until I tell Pa what a crack shot you are!” Miranda giggled. Please don't, I thought, I don't want to end up on “Unsolved Mysteries”. “Let's take this to the car, we can come back later,” she said as she slung the massive plushy over her shoulder and held my hand with the other.

I put the bear in the back seat and we got in the front. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “That was very impressive back there, no one has ever been able to win me a prize like that. I feel like that earned you another kiss.” The fluffy pink bear's lifeless black eyes stared at me from the rearview mirror. I could smell her hair, it smelled like peaches and vanilla. She whispered in my ear, “I was hoping maybe we could stay here in the car for a bit.” She lightly bit my ear lobe. She started caressing my neck and ran her fingers under my collar. I was okay with staying in the car for a while.

She kissed my neck and collarbone. She was a very light kisser, she barely made contact. It was far more sensual than I was expecting a make-out session in a car to be, not that I was complaining. It was then that I realized I wasn't doing anything. I could be trying for first base or even stealing second.

I met her lips with mine and we kissed. Her lipstick left a waxy taste in my mouth and the powdered sugar on her lips from the funnel cake made her kisses taste sweet. Her soft, full lips bounced back just perfectly as I pressed my mouth to hers. She ran her hands under my shirt, lightly pressing against my chest and abs. Her breathing picked up. I put my hand on her hip and slowly ran it up across her belly to her perky breasts. Over the top of her dress, they still felt warm and soft. She looked into my eyes as we explored each other. Whatever she was searching for, I hope she saw it in me. Then suddenly she pulled away and I heard a tapping on my window.

I looked up to see Officer Jackson. He had come into our school a few times to talk about drugs and tell us to “just say no”. I rolled down the window. Miranda turned and smoothed out her dress nervously, clearing her throat. I didn't get a word out before he spoke.

“You both over eighteen?” he asked.

We both nodded. “Yessir,” I said, trying not to let my voice crack. He nodded and frowned disapprovingly before he pushed his aviator sunglasses back up.

“No neckin' here, there's little kids and families,” he said curtly, then he turned and walked away. I looked over and Miranda was mortified and blushing. Her hair was tousled from our short but very sensual tryst.

“I'm sorry, I got a little carried away. I'll take you home.” I turned the key and the engine rumbled to life. She put her hand on mine as I reached for the shifter.

“He said there's 'no neckin here', let's go somewhere where there can be 'neckin'.” She bounced her eyebrows to make sure I picked up on the subtext. She was such a fox. She slid the loose folds of her dress up a little more revealing more of her toned thighs. “Let’s go to Old Sawbeck Mill Road and park behind the train tracks,” she proposed.

My heart started racing. There's two reasons why we would go there: to smoke some grass or to have sex. I was down for both but I was hoping it would be the latter. I pulled out of the fairgrounds and turned toward the direction of the abandoned mill. The smile on her face grew wider as she watched me turn. She slid her hands down and pulled her dress all the way up to her stomach. I could see her red panties, cotton with no lace, nor printed patterns. There was a perfect little bump beneath and some light brown hair stuck out from the side. I kept stealing glances at her legs and groin.

“Eyes on the road over there, Bandit,” she said playfully. God, she was perfect. She pulled an arm inside the dress and lifted the dress over her head, tossing it into the back seat. She had a white bra, cotton again, and no frills. Her breasts hung nicely in her hand-me-down bra despite it being a bit too small. She was popping out of the top. She adjusted them and slid down in the seat so passing cars couldn't see that she was practically naked. Still modest, and if I'm being honest, that was way sexier to me than if she would have been flashing those glorious tits at everyone who passed us. Besides, she would have caused so many accidents.

I looked over at her, her eyes were set ahead. Her lips curled into a smile, those cute dimples and blonde curls belying her wicked intentions. The rhythm of the turn signal as we waited was driving me nuts. Finally, we made it onto the rutted dirt lane that was Old Sawbeck Road and she placed a hand on mine as I moved the shifter. She reached over a little further and put her hand between my legs. I was already hard. She giggled and patted the inside of my leg, squeezing my knee. I found a nice quiet spot; out of the way, even in this out-of-the-way place. I parked under a big Elm whose ropy branches gently swayed in the crisp, autumn breeze. My brakes squeaked slightly as I parked and shut off the engine.

“Perfect,” she said as I pulled the keys from the ignition and turned to face her. “I think we should hop in the back,” she said.

I got out and put the teddy bear in the front seat, like he was driving. “Keep it between the white and yellow lines, Mr. Teddy, and no speeding!” I said, pointing at him. She laughed as she pulled her underwear off and unhooked her bra. Oh shit! I guess we aren't doing the sexy undressing. We are going right into it. I peeled my clothes off, got in the back seat with her, and closed the door with a 'thunk'.

“Hi,” she said playfully.

“Hi,” I replied. She was completely nude. She was no longer blushing at this point, her hair hung almost low enough to hide her small, pink nipples. She was a tease, but you still got to see everything. She had a little belly button and a birthmark on her hip I saw once before when her skirt got snagged on something during a cheer routine. Half of the school saw her pastel undies that day. I jerked off three times after school that day.

Then my eyes fell on her pussy, a pleasantly plump mound of flesh covered with well-groomed hair. She touched herself and then leaned in for a kiss. I met her and we picked up where we left off. She put her hand on my dick and felt the shaft and balls. I felt sheepish. I hadn't shaved and it wasn't the biggest by comparison. I saw other guys in the locker room, so I know what I'm up against.

“That's a nice cock you got there,” she said in a cheesy porno voice.

“Thanks, I sometimes trim it, so it's not so hairy,” I replied sheepishly.

“It's perfect,” she said in between breaths and kisses, “It's yours and I want to be with you.” She had nothing but smiles for me today. “I wanna try something I saw in one of Daddy's magazines. You lay this way and I'll lay the other and we can, you know...” she said, her voice trailing off.

I kinda knew. I did this with Becky Shimpsky in tenth grade but she didn't seem to enjoy it as much as the chicks in the movies I'd watched. I usually fast-forward through that stuff anyway. I kinda wished I hadn't been so myopic in my porn-watching habits now that Miranda's hips hovered above me waiting for me to grab them and give her the business. I might have picked up a thing or two from those skin flicks, but if you are watching them it means the parents aren't home and you have a short window to do the deed and hide the tape again before being discovered.

“Are you alright back there?” she said looking at me between her tits. She was gently stroking me, I hadn't even noticed in my revelry. It was nice, she ran up the entire shaft and twisted her palm over the head before going back down and gently squeezing my balls.

“Yeah, just admiring the view,” I replied, nonchalantly. Not really a lie honestly. She had a cute pussy. Some of the ones I saw in the movies and magazines had big flaps or red rashes from razor burn. They also didn't look as juicy as hers, which is probably why guys in porn always rubbed lube everywhere and spit on everything. Her pussy was small with a slight crease where the lips were and a little pink fold at the top, well, bottom from my angle. I put my hands on her buttocks and gently lowered her to my tongue. As I did, I felt how warm her skin was against my mouth. It tasted a little salty and smelled a little like sweat.

“Yeah, that's it, your breath on me is driving me wild!” she cooed. I pushed my tongue out and she rolled her hips gliding a hard little button of flesh over my nose, lips, tongue, and finally my chin.

“That's the magic spot,” Miranda coached. I remembered that Becky shivered when I found that with my fingers. “Keep going, lick me, kiss me, squeeze me.”

I felt her lips part over my head and she pushed my cock in her mouth. At first, it was about halfway down with each stroke but then her head dipped further and further as little trails of saliva trickled down to my balls. She had her eyes closed, moaning as she worked. Her boobs swung and bounced. Her nipples tickled my stomach, so soft and erect. Her hair fell over the side of her back and across her triceps. As it did, I caught the scent of vanilla peaches again and also a whiff of ozone maybe. I couldn't be sure, but it was almost like she was on fire. Maybe it was my brain's feeble attempt to assign a smell to pheromones; it had nothing to compare it to but this was the closest proxy. I heard some wet squeezing noises from her and oh man things were really getting intense. I tried to focus on her, tightening my grip on her butt and really getting in there. I pushed my tongue as far as it would go and swished it around, licking the wet, smooth walls of her pussy. She arched her back and slowed her pace.

“That's it! I'm gunna back off a bit so you don't pop the cork too soon. More of that good stuff, Mike!” she said, panting.

I tried to say “Oh Miranda!” but it was garbled and muffled by lips on skin as Miranda sat up and pushed herself onto my face. I slapped her ass and rolled my head to use my face to massage her. She went nuts, digging her nails into my chest and thighs. I could feel her feet pressing against the top of my head, toes curling into my hair. In her belly, I felt a growl begin and rise out of her in a scream. A primal howl for all the other were-women in the other hidden cars getting theirs; a challenge for them to get from their mates a leg-quivering orgasm like she just had.

The savagery of the moment passed as she lifted her still-quaking torso off of me. I sat up next to her and she kissed my forehead, licking it lightly. “I like the taste of myself,” she paused before continuing, “That was incredible!”

“Thank you, I'm a quick study,” I replied.

“You never did that before?” she asked.

“Not that position, no, but I had tried the other thing with Becky Shimpsky. She didn't seem to like it as much as you did,” I confessed. Should I be telling her this?

“Oh, she's a prude! She probably won't find another guy to do that for her anyway!” Miranda retorted. Was she jealous? She looked at me again. “She probably also wouldn't let you get past third base I'm guessing,” Miranda asked.

“She did eventually but I don't want to be with Becky right now, I want to be with you and hopefully take home the pennant for the home team,” I said confidently.

“Oh, that's a good answer, Mike, a really good answer, Batter up!” she said. She sat back in the seat sideways and lifted her hips, opening herself to me.

“How about cowgirl?” I replied as I sat up in the seat trying to make myself look like a tall, thick fence post.

She scrunched her eyes and whistled, shaking her head. “Oof, you're full of good answers today,” she said. Miranda sat up and lowered herself onto me. I felt a rush of serotonin wash over my brain and down my spine, settling into my groin as a warm tingle in my thighs. She slowly raised and lowered, tip to balls. Man, she was good. We sat nose to nose gazing into each other's eyes as she glided up and down. She would playfully rub the tip of her nose against mine and tease me by biting my lip and winking. She slowed her pace and leaned forward, I felt a rough spot inside her.

“Do you feel that? Try to hit that every time you can,” Miranda said. She kept rolling her hips, rubbing the head of my cock against it. She shuddered as it happened, like a reflex, a spasm; it was something primal again. It was rising in her like boiler pressure.

She flung herself over the front seat rubbing her clit. “Oh, my God! Fuck me from behind!” she said.

I squared up behind her and slowly pressed into her. “No! Rougher, fast, and for all your worth. Hit that spot on the way in and don't stop until your legs give out!” she hissed. I grabbed her waist and started slamming my hips into hers. She arched her back and I felt the rough orange peel with each thrust now. I pulled her into me as I went, impaling her.

“That's it! Faster! Harder!” she growled through gritted teeth. I went faster and harder.

I could feel the tingling in my legs consolidating into an intense pleasure in the tip of my cock with each pump. My fingers whitened as they gripped her waist. She howled like an animal, warm fluid ran down my legs. Her face was twisted in agonizing ecstasy in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were shut and her mouth was agape in a scream but I couldn't hear her cries. I could feel the cool sweat streaking her back. Gone was the sweet smell of vanilla peach, reminding Papa not to swear in front of Momma, and the pink, sparkly heart above the “i” in her name. She had become something untameable again. Was I hurting her? Was she going to kill and eat me afterward? Will I ever hear again?

I slid out of her and sprayed my cum all over her back and legs as the tingling in my groin gave way to throbbing pleasure in my loins. My legs and hips kept pumping. Gradually my hearing came back as I heard her moaning; her hips still shaking. When my legs gave out I collapsed in the seat, panting. Sweat was running into my eyes. We tilted our heads to face each other as we sprawled out in the back seat. A cool zephyr of the late afternoon passed through the open windows, drying the sweat of our exertion and carrying away the rasp of our panting breaths. Eventually, we would have to find our words again, put on our clothes, and head home. For now, we sat and held hands, enjoying the cool breeze, the soft rustle of the Elm, and the tweets and replies of birds as they too enjoyed this perfect October afternoon.