The house is so quiet with the guys gone. I open up a few windows to let some fresh air in and a gentle breeze rustles through my hair. For a few seconds, I close my eyes and soak in the warm rays of the sun and imagine myself riding a horse between Travis and Holden. Those two really got it right. They spend almost all of their time outside in nature. They’re both gorgeously tan because of it and their bodies are in amazing shape because of the hard work they do. In Hollywood guys spend hours in tanning booths and at the gym to try to get a fraction of what they have naturally.

My fantasy slowly changes. Suddenly the horses all disappear. Instead, I’m completely nude, but still riding as Holden and Travis both fill me with their thick, steely cocks.

My eyelids flutter open and my heartbeat quickens as I squeeze my thighs together. Holden was already pretty cranky with me this morning about being so slow to wake. Of course, I’d rather die than tell him it was because I stayed up late last night letting my mind play out my deepest desires while my fingers pushed me to the strongest orgasms I’ve ever experienced. And if he ever knew it was him and Travis I was moaning about, well, my cheeks flare up and heat crawls over my skin at the thought. I shake my head and push it from my mind.

“Get to work,” I chide myself and head out to the stairs. Once I reach the rooms, I hesitate by Travis’s door. It’s weird to go in his personal space without him there.

“It’s not weird. It’s your job,” I murmur and walk past the jacket and baseball cap he tossed down on the floor and go inside. I quickly skim the blanket off the bed and tug off the dirty sheets. Soon I have an armful of sheets and pillow cases, which I push down into the nearly empty basket of dirty clothes by the door.

I’m ready to walk out of here without a second glance, but my feet won’t move. Across the room is a bookshelf and my curiosity tugs me toward it involuntarily. I know I’m being nosy as I skim through the titles, but my fingertips caress the spines of the novels. It’s mostly James Patterson and a few Stephen King books in the mix. It’s about what I’d expect.

My eyes stop on a thin, yellow book that stands out amongst the fat, bulging ones. I pluck it free from the shelf and can’t help but smile as I realize it’s his high school year book. Slowly, my feet take me to the edge of his bed where I sit down and thumb through the pages.

All over there are messages scrawled wishing him well in a future that only existed in their imaginations then. “You’ll go far no matter what you do. Stay cool.”

“Keep smiling and charming the ladies with those baby blues.”

Some of them are a bit more cryptic. “If I ever need moonshine talks at the prairie's edge, I’m looking you up.”

And a few couldn’t be less deep if they tried. “Hey hottie, look me up if you ever join civilization in the big city. I’ll give you a full tour.”

“Stay sexy.”

A twinge of jealousy courses through my veins and I frown at the loopy, overly feminine penmanship. Whoa, I need to chill. He must have graduated like a decade ago. Besides, he’s not mine to get jealous over.

I flip through the pages and laugh as I come across his graduation picture. His blond hair is in a full mullet and he looks a lot leaner as he smiles off to the distant left. Still, even then he was a looker. You can see the first rumblings of the man he grew into in the years to come.

I snap the book shut and carefully put it back on the shelf where I found it and move onto Holden’s room. As I would expect, it’s spotless. He just seems like that kind of guy. I wouldn’t be surprised if the books on his shelf are arranged alphabetically and his closet is carefully laid out by clothing type and color. His books are mostly about cattle farming, with a few classics thrown in for good measure.

Glancing around, everything is in perfect order. He even made his bed this morning before he came to my room and tried to bang down the door. It’s funny, I just can’t figure him out. He’s got to be around the same age as Travis, but he’s so serious all the time, he seems older. Whenever he knows I’m looking at him, his face looks like he sucked a lemon, but then, when he doesn’t know I’m checking him out, he looks kind and even concerned for me.

My eyes drift down to Holden’s nightstand. I look at the bedroom door and then back at the table. I know I have no business looking in there. None. So why am I walking toward it? Why am I opening the drawer?

“Stop!” I hiss at myself and start to close the drawer. But then I see it. One of those old school dirty magazines boys used to share in their clubhouses when their parents locked them out of the good stuff with net nannies.

My fingers curl around the edge of the glossy cover and I lift the magazine out of the drawer. Easing back onto Holden’s bed, I casually flip through the pages, like I’m trying to be cool or something. Inside, my stomach is tied in knots and heart is nearly beating out of my chest.

I scan the pictures of the barely dressed ladies. I’m not surprised to see some of them are on their knees or on all fours. The camera leaves nothing to the imagination as they hold open their glistening pussy lips and stare boldly out from the pages. But what really does make me look twice is most of the pictures are of women being spanked. I mean, underwear down, butts in the air, red cheeks, and a grimace on their faces that’s clearly a mixture of pain and pleasure.

What would I do if Holden walked in on me right now?

Would he lose his mind over me snooping through his dirty magazine? Or would he like to see that I can be a naughty girl? Who knows, maybe he’d want to teach me a lesson.

I hear a thump downstairs and jump up and toss the magazine in the drawer and close it with a bump of my thigh. I rip the sheets off Holden’s bed along with his pillowcases and rush over to the basket, shoving them down deep. My heart is still thudding out of control in my chest when I drag the basket down to the main level.

What was that noise? “Hello?” I wait for an answer, but none comes. Walking around, I see that the tin of coffee grinds is knocked down into the sink. It was resting on the windowsill, but then I opened the window and a gust must have swept it up.

Whew. Well, at least that’s all it was.

I drag the laundry to the washing machine and pull the sheets out. I bury my face in Holden’s sheets and breathe in the musk of bourbon and campfires. I can just picture him under a starry sky after a hard day’s work, enjoying a glass of liquor.

Shoving them in the machine, I pull out Travis’s sheets and am transported to a field of freshly threshed hay, lying to dry under the hot summer sun. I add them in with the other stuff and grab the soap. Carefully I measure it all out and then grab the bleach. I just want to put a tiny bit in the section made for it, but the cap busts off and bleach douses the sheets.

“Fuck!”

I pull the cap out and secure it on tight but know the damage is done. Travis has white sheets, so I’m not too worried about them, but Holden’s are a deep, hunter green. There’s no chance the bleach isn’t going to mess those up, is there?

Not knowing how to fix this, I slam the washing machine lid shut and pray to the laundry gods to give me a pass on this one. Holden seems like he’s already annoyed with me after how he was acting his morning. I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.

Sighing, I let the washing machine do its thing and head into the kitchen. I should figure out what I’m going to feed the guys tonight. Maybe if I can whip up something extra tasty, he won’t even notice the sheets. He seemed to really love my burger last night. Maybe a meatloaf would be a good idea?

I head back upstairs to grab my phone so I can get a good recipe. I tell myself I’m not going to creep back into Holden’s room and look at his dirty magazine anymore. I’m definitely not going to envision him slowly jerking off his big cock to the girls inside. I’m definitely not going to imagine him holding me across his lap and smacking my round ass over and over. And there’s no way I’m going to lie back on his bed and let my fingers dance on my nub as the entire fantasy plays out in my head.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.