Home

Behind the barn - sex story


Behind the barn



"Just what did you mean by that?" Mike Peters turned slowly around and faced his wife. He had already opened the door, intending to stalk out, but now he slammed it shut again, and Sandra recoiled from the look of cold anger he was levelling at her. But she continued to stare back at him, fury flashing in her green eyes. Tossing her sleek, raven-crowned head, she fought the beginnings of fear which were trying to root deep inside her.

"Just what I said!" she retorted bitterly. "You've got some plan in mind for that little vixen... I saw the way you were looking at her!"

"For Christ's sake, Sandy, try and be reasonable!" Mike snapped, resisting the temptation to go over and shake his wife until her teeth chattered. He felt extremely uncomfortable and just a little bit guilty. A guy can't help looking, he told himself, when a broad as well-built as Eve Slater comes into view, and as the girl was going to be working for him, he had to be friendly to her, hadn't he?

"Are you sure she's from the Agricultural College, and not just some little number you've..."

"I'm sick and tired of listening to your accusations," Mike interrupted, "and I haven't got all day to stand here and argue with you. Miss Slater," he went on quietly, "is a student from the college, and perfectly qualified for the project. She is majoring in Dairying, and will be with us for three months. Anything else?"

"You can't tell me she knows anything about farming," Sandra persisted, feeling her anger and jealousy combine and stick in her craw, choking the hot bitter words out of her. As she continued to rail at her husband, a suffocating feeling of futility and frustration swept over her. I didn't mean to nag him like this, she told herself hopelessly. I can't help it... but she's so young and attractive, and the way he was looking at her...

"I have to go now," Mike said tonelessly, "it's almost milking time."

"That's right," Sandra hurled, "go back to your damn cows... and your girlfriend!" Great gulping sobs convulsed her, and tears ran down her face as she stared at the departing figure of her husband. God, why does she have to cry like that? Mike shrugged as he slammed the door behind him. As always, he was moved by the sight and sound of her tears, and felt the guilt inside him strengthening with insidious speed. He would have liked to take her in his arms, caress and soothe her, stroke away her fears, in spite of her nagging and accusations, but somehow, he couldn't. He knew he was afraid that she'd reject his offering of peace, and felt that he couldn't stand the humiliation. If she wants to be like that, why should I be the one to give in? he reasoned angrily, as he hurried over to the barn.

***

Sandra crumpled like a rag doll onto the leather couch. Her sobs resounded in the small room, and the fading daylight cloaked everything in the office with ominous ambiguity. She felt small and alone and unprotected and totally incapable of drawing the strings of her life together. The woman who had screamed at and harangued her husband over a trivial incident was not the real Sandra Peters. The real Sandra was a loving, warm woman who stood by and encouraged her husband in all ventures. But who was that whining domineering shrew? I can't help it! she told herself again, burying her tear-stained face in her hands.

The vitriolic, stinging memory of her discovery of her husband's infidelity of over a year ago came rushing back with painful clarity -- the humiliation, the feeling of complete insecurity, the anguish of it all was as fresh as if it had just happened. Even though they had made up, and she had sworn to forgive and forget, and Mike had tried, and was in fact a model husband since then, she couldn't purge herself of the bitter memory. She knew that she had taken every opportunity to get back at him, remind him of his indiscretion, to throw it up in his face on occasions when it was most wounding to him. She knew that the misery, the unhappiness of their co-existence, because it couldn't be called a marriage in the usual sense of the word, was mostly her doing, and yet, nothing would erase the jarring, searing memory of that dreadful time last year. She hadn't waited to verify her discovery, find out how long his involvement had been going on, or how serious it was. She had confronted him immediately, threatened divorce, court action, instant ignominy, and had relented only after weeks of ceaseless apologies, declarations of future fidelity and sworn avowals of love by her distraught husband. In a way, she had to admit to herself, she had enjoyed his obvious distress at her threat to leave, and had basked in his repeated statements that "he couldn't live without her." But the satisfaction she gained from the knowledge that he couldn't do without her was short-lived, and her ego had suffered too bruising a blow for her to maintain for long her role of sweet, forgiving but slightly-martyred wife. So her veiled recrimination had begun, and had gradually become more open and venomous, culminating in her accusations of today.

But she couldn't fool herself into thinking which she knew in her heart were unjustified, that her misery and discontent sprang completely from her husband's behavior. Even in her present misery, she was forced to admit that her unhappiness was accentuated by underlying discontent with her whole life. She had never dreamed when she had got engaged to the up and coming junior executive in the largest New England textile firm, that they would end up in the heart of New Hampshire farmland. She and Mike had such a good time in Boston, their first apartment, actually a tiny terraced house, their fast little sports car, their young, happy-go-lucky friends. She had enjoyed so much being a working girl and wife, and her job as assistant buyer of sportswear for a large department store was flexible enough so that she could take that bit of extra effort which made her dinner parties such a success. All her clothes were of the very latest fashion, and even though she got a discount on them, Mike's salary and hers combined had been generous enough to allow her to afford the extras, like that pale pink silk full length dress and matching coat which she had got for the opening of the opera season. Everything was going their way, and Sandra actually enjoyed the weekends they spent in the White Mountains, away from everybody, in that fishing cabin Mike rented.

At that time, she thought rural life was romantic -- sitting before a roaring fire in the big stone fireplace, lighting the kerosene lamps at night, cooking the fish Mike had caught. After their hectic weekday round of activities, it was great being alone together, and when they got back to Boston, all their friends used to exclaim enviously over their rustic experiences.

It was just after their second wedding anniversary when the blow fell. Mike's company was moving south, and Mike decided to resign. Sandra was glad about that, shuddering at the thought of moving to a small town in South Carolina, and had naturally assumed that Mike would take up another position with a similar company. But her husband had other ideas. His uncle had willed his rundown old farm in New Hampshire to Mike, and he had always had a stronge urge to try his hand at farming. He had looked upon his company's removal from Boston as an act of fate, and had felt that he had enough saved to enable them to give farming a try. Dividends would keep them going for a while and the capital would be sunk into the renovation and working of the farm.

Even now, six years later, Sandra still shuddered at the memory of that appalling first year on the farm. The cold draughty house, the constant presence of the builders, with their clouds of cement dust, ceaseless hammering and banging, cooking and washing and existing in the most primitive conditions -- Sandra thought that she would never survive. All her clothes got torn and muddy and she had ceased to care about her appearance that first year. But the greatest change had been in Mike. He was obsessed with the farm -- every spare minute was spent on it; it occupied his mind completely; nothing seemed to matter to him but the farm. Sandra had nurtured the secret hope that the whole project would collapse and they could go back to the relative civilization of Boston. But nothing seemed to deter Mike -- not even the loss of their small herd at the end of the first year through foot and mouth disease. He had become strangely stoical, and shrugged off his loss, and grimly went about restocking his farm with more of the huge, ponderous black and white animals of which Sandra was deathly afraid. Mike used to tease her at first, saying that the languid Friesians wouldn't touch a fly, but he had gradually become more and more impatient with her when she refused to share his enthusiasm over them. As time went on, she lost her fear of them, and even developed sympathy for them, and she was unable to bear the mournful lowing that rent the air when the tiny furry calves were taken from their mothers so soon after birth.

Resentment had built up in her over the years as Mike became more and more immersed in farm life, and his often stated feeling that he was glad he had made the step from the city irked her considerably. Gradually, their friends from Boston stopped coming to see them, rapidly losing their idealized notions of rural life when they saw the day to day reality, and now Sandra had lost touch with them completely. Her life was empty, pointless, she felt, and her husband's involvement with the agricultural instructor last year was the last straw for his demoralized wife. Life was no longer worth living, she thought -- nothing would ever change; things would go on just as they were, with herself and Mike completely estranged.

She felt like crying again, but no tears would come. In fact, she felt devoid of all emotion, and the emptiness inside her at least eased the pain. Her mind was a blank as she got up from the couch, and wearily stretched herself. She felt old and tired -- and beaten. I'm not old -- why should I give up living? she asked herself, catching a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror that hung behind the door of the office, which was once a small bedroom. She knew her figure was still good, and she ran her eye critically over her reflection, noting the firm, braless upsweep of her full breasts through the raspberry colored angora dress she was wearing, the womanly curve of her graceful slender hips, the long expanse of her creamy legs. I'm not over the hill yet, she told herself, running a hand through her silky black hair which fell to just below her jawline where it swung into a guiche on either side of her oval face. Luxuriant dark lashes framed her vivid green eyes which even in her weariness sparkled back at her. What's the use? she mumbled to herself, turning away from her reflection. Who's going to see me here, vegetating in the wilderness? She conquered the fresh wave of bitterness rising inside her and with a sigh, sat down on Mike's swivel chair, in front of his untidy, littered desk. It was already the first week of the month, and she hadn't done the accounts for the previous one. Idly, she swept together the crumpled, disorganized sheaf of papers which was a jumbled mass of invoices, receipts and cancelled checks. Glad of something to take her mind off her troubles, she plunged into the task of sorting everything out and was soon immersed in her work. When she had made everything into three separate piles, she pulled open a drawer in the desk, and began to rummage about, looking for the ledger to make entries for the month. Why the hell doesn't he keep his desk tidier! she muttered to herself as she eased a long, hardbound book out of the drawer. As she removed it, her eye fell on a bulging manilla envelope which had been wedged between another book and the one she had withdrawn.

"Now what's this doing here?" she muttered to herself, irked at the disorder in the files she had arranged only recently. Frowning slightly to herself, she fumbled with the envelope and discovered that it was full of photographs.

Puzzled, she eased one out of the envelope.

"Oh my God!" she gasped aloud, unable to contain herself. The blood rushed to her face, crimsoning it a deep red. Tumultuous feelings of horror, disgust, anger manifested themselves in a single sensation of overwhelming nausea. A numbed haze blinded her for an instant, and then she began to stare with bulging, disbelieving eyes at the colored print she was holding in her hand. Every detail was startlingly portrayed and the two figures in the photograph seemed amazingly alive. For a moment, Sandra couldn't believe that she was seeing right, but there was no doubt about it -- it was actually a photograph of a nude man and woman, sprawled out together, the woman's blonde head dipped between the man's widespread thighs, his grossly inflated penis clamped tightly between her ovalled red lips. The man's head was turned away, but there was no mistaking the expression on the rapt woman's face. She was enjoying taking that man's hardness in her mouth -- her lustful desire was etched clearly on her eager face.

Sandra felt her heart thudding painfully in her ribcage. She had heard, of course, that people did that sort of thing, but had always somehow felt that such an act did not belong in a normal marriage. The lascivious scene seemed to come to pulsating life under her hypnotized stare, and the huge blood-filled penis seemed to throb with lewd tensity as it lay cradled between the full, ripe lips that were clasping it so tenaciously. The woman's half-closed eyes seemed glazed with passion, and Sandra felt a shudder of unknown sensation ripple through her. She couldn't seem to draw her eyes away from the obscene photograph. Her fingers seemed to be soldered to the glossy print, and somehow she felt that if she looked away from the perverted sight, she would tear herself away from a tenuous reality which her moribund emotions so badly needed, and go berserk with disgust and horror. How could he keep such filthy, lewd pictures? her mind began to question. Does he look at them often? Where did he get them?

Her curiosity broke the spell the obscene photograph had on her conscientiousness, and hurriedly, she drew out another of the colored prints. Her eyes flew immediately to the scene, and a sudden, strangled moan of horror broke from her lips.

"Oh no! It can't be!" she groaned as she stared fixedly at the second photograph. This time, the shot was taken from a distance, but near enough to display in detail the pink moist delineations of a widespread vagina, the glistening lips gently swollen around a dark star-shaped opening. A man's face was juxtaposed over the splayed mouth, the tip of his long tongue poised at the entrance to the delicate roseate furrow. And there was no mistaking that face, so wreathed in anticipatory lust. It was Mike! For a moment, Sandra couldn't believe that it was actually her husband who was portrayed in that disgusting snapshot, the wavy fair hair, his deep blue eyes, his fleshy sensuous lips. Numbed shock rushed in a roaring torrent to her head, threatening to explode, and she had to hold onto the arm of the swivel chair to steady herself. Mike! How could he do this to another woman? How could he let himself be photographed like that? She wanted to scream, to beat her fists against the wall, to turn back the clock and forget that she had ever seen the lewd pictures. Through the dim of her hurt and disgust, another thought nagged at her brain. This lascivious blonde in the photograpb, who had splayed her legs so unreservedly for her husband, was not the same woman that Mike was having an affair with last year. So there had been others! New thundering anger swelled inside the distraught wife at the thought that she had been deceived, and furiously, she snatched the remaining photographs up and scanned them. Each one, seemingly more lewd than the previous one, leaped up at her horrified eyes as if to taunt her with the spectacle of her husband engaged in all different positions, with different women, and sometimes with more than one!

"That bastard! That dirty bastard!" Sandra gasped, and in a fury of temper, began to splash out at the contents of the desk, scattering papers, letter trays, pens; everything went flying in all directions and fell to create untold chaos on the floor. Her anger unleashed beyond control, she yanked at the file drawers, pulling them completely away from their moorings, and dumped the files she had so carefully put in order, in a dishevelled heap on the floor.

As suddenly as it came, her demonic flash of temper deserted her, and she sank back in hopeless bewilderment on the swivel chair. All around her, the records of the past eight years lay in disarray on the floor, and a dreadful sense of futility convulsed her.

"Oh God," she sobbed, "what did I do to deserve this?" She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders shook with the racking sobs which enveloped her. How many more were there? she asked herself piteously, torturing herself with images of various women that both she and Mike had known. Had he had an affair with all their friends? she wondered bitterly. In her jealous humiliated anger, new images began to inject themselves into her consciousness -- glimpses she had caught of various naked bodies with full voluptuous breasts and creamy sinewy thighs, stretched out in opulent sensuality, seemingly oblivious to the unknown photographers who were busy snapping away as her husband caressed and stroked and kissed those velvety bodies. Her mind seemed unable to banish the lewd images, and fresh ones began to superimpose themselves in her fervid imagination. Mike kissing and slavering an open, exposed vagina, lewdly displayed and eagerly offered to him... Mike sinking his wildly excited penis into a greedy, grasping vaginal orifice, strong supple thighs egging him on... Mike lying back as luscious red lips encircled his bloated penis... The obscene snatches from the vile cache of photographs she had unwittingly uncovered played relentlessly in her mind, mocking her with their leering evidence of her husband's infidelities.

She felt broken in mind and spirit. The actuality which those photographs seemed to point to was too shocking for her to bear. Under the thin veneer of city sophistication she had acquired, Sandra was still basically a conventional American wife, strict enough in her own way to the code of morality to which her family and all before her had subscribed. She had looked upon marriage as sacred, even in this day and age of quickie divorce and pre-marital and extra-marital sex, and had automatically assumed that any philandering on the part of her husband would stop after marriage. And she was sure it had! That was the hard part. She had been so snug and secure, even in the dark days of their early times on the farm, feeling cocooned in the sanctity of the wedded state, and that accounted for the tremendous shock she experienced when she had discovered her husband's affair last year. And now! She had uncovered devastating evidence that pointed to a whole series of adulterous infidelities! Involuntarily, she reached for the pile of photographs which had fallen to the ground amid the shambles of the office.

Almost disinterestedly, she scanned them over again. Yes, there was no doubt about it! There were three or four different girls involved in the debacle, and the pictures showed Mike involved with each and every one.

She studied a particularly lurid one, showing him and a tall lithe brunette stretched out, touching at only two places. His mouth was firmly planted in the nest of her dark pubic curls, and her mouth was tightly clasped around the red thick length of his penis. The girl's eyes were half-closed and her thick luxuriant hair fell in tendrils around her face, giving her an almost angelic look as she exalted in the feel and taste of Sandra's husband's penis in her mouth. Sandra continued to stare at the lewd shot. What did it feel like, having a man's male hardness locked tightly in your mouth? she wondered, amazed at the look of almost reverent ecstasy on the girl's face. Mike had tried once or twice, she remembered, pushing her head down under the blanket, and she had, of course, refused to do anything like that. She had always thought it perverted, somehow, and yet, this girl seemed to be thoroughly aroused by it. And that blonde in the first picture, she mused in horrified fascination, flicking back to it, seems in ecstasy, too. Her attention was caught by one she hadn't scrutinized before. It showed a well-built redhead, her breasts full and vibrant, spreadeagled beneath Mike, whose engorged prick was sunk halfway into the soft, hair-fringed tunnel of her vagina. The girl's legs were wrapped around her husband's lower back and her spine was arched up off the bed as she strove to open her depths wider and deeper to him. Sandra stared in lewd fascination at the minutely detailed photographs of sexual intercourse. Even her animosity to her husband seemed to retreat as she studied abstractly the obviously impassioned couple. The redhead's head was thrown back, and her mouth was open. Her hands were dug into his shoulders, and her whole body seemed afire. Mike's hands were clutching at her firm, upswept breasts, and Sandra could see the reddened tips of her fully turgid nipples slipping out through his flngers. There was a look of pure animal desire on her husband's face, a look she hadn't seen in a long, long time! Despite herself, Sandra felt a little tug of jealousy. She remembered how she used to arouse that complete passionate frenzy in her husband, how he used to be almost aflame with desire for her, and her alone, she was sure, and now, this redheaded hussy was the one who was making him act like that...

Sudden tears surprised her as they swam in her eyes. It isn't fair... she murmured to herself. It was so long since she had seen Mike crazed with desire, so long since he had even made love to her... She felt a sudden emptiness inside her, a feeling which she recognized as vague desire. It began to gnaw at her, worming its way insidiously into her depths, gaining a foothold in her numb body. He never tries to kiss me there anymore... the thought leapt into her head. It was years since he had tried to persuade her to allow him to put his head down between her thighs and kiss her pussy, but she had so vehemently and absolutely refused him when he had made the attempt. It can't be so bad, she muttered to herself, her eyes glued to another shot, this time of Mike with his face buried in the copper fleece of the redhead's openly throbbing cunt. Sandra could see the moist flanges of the girl's vagina rimming Mike's wetly glistening nose and mouth, and her thighs were clamped and straining eagerly around his steaming face. The girl's eyes were closed and it was obvious that she was in the throes of complete abandon. Then, in spite of the shock and revulsion of seeing her husband locked in lewd, naked embrace with another woman, Sandra felt a tingle beginning between her own legs, a ripple that seemed to grow as her eyes continued to focus on the spectacle of her husband's grovelling between another woman's widespread thighs. How did it feel, to have a man's tongue licking and sucking and blowing his hot, passionate breath into that secret place, have his mouth warm and caressing around your clitoris, feel his kiss on your nakedly exposed pubic mound?

Her feverish mind threw the questions at herself, and suddenly, she felt hot all over, covered with a cloying clamminess that made her feel like tearing her dress from her body. She was dimly aware that she was unconsciously clenching her heated thighs together and imperceptibly grinding her buttocks into the leather of the swivel chair. The tingling in her loins grew and the gnawing inside her burst into a devouring flame and she wondered vaguely what was happening. Her eyes flickered aimlessly to another picture, and a startled gasp eluded her as she stared in disbelief at what she saw. Sandra thought that the photographs she had already examined had prepared her to a point where she was beyond surprise, but she was wrong. She gaped in astonishment at the candid snapshot, unable and unwilling to believe that it was her husband who was actually inserting his huge, lust-hardened penis in the blonde's tiny puckered anus! But there was no doubt about it -- the photograph showed in unerring detail the enormous girth of Mike's blood-inflated prick encircled by the brown crinkled little rectal mouth, stretched cruelly around the massive circumference. This lasciviously depicted anal entry was too much for Sandra. Revulsion swept through her -- disgust at the knowledge that the man she had married could and did indulge in such an animalistic, carnal act, a thing she, a grown woman, had only heard about in whispers. It was too shameful to even think about; it was disgusting! And yet, Sandra noticed in amazement, the blonde didn't seem to mind it. In fact, she seemed to like it, judging by the lewd look of delight on her passion-contorted face. Oh God, what was going on? Her world seemed to have gone topsy-turvy, and all the opinions she had held on such matters seemed to have been refuted by the pictorial evidence she held in her hand. These girls weren't being abused, subjected to a man's whim or desire -- they were actually enjoying it! They seemed to love all the obscene things Mike was doing to them... they were revelling in what to her would be the lowest kind of debasement.

Bewilderment crowded in on Sandra, and she felt completely out of control of the situation. Her hands rose slowly to her breasts, and she gasped as she felt the electrifying effect her own touch had on the now sensuously throbbing mounds. But she couldn't take her hands away -- somehow she felt that she had only herself to turn to to help her get over this terrible discovery. She felt strangely illucid, as if her perusal of the lewd pornographic pictures had touched off a streak of insanity in her, and she could no longer control her stampeding libido. Her mind was fermenting with images of the various positions she had seen in the photographs, and lurid thrills were beginning to shoot up and down her body. Involuntarily, she pressed her palms down her sides, along her hips, and then dipped them between her nylon-encased thighs. Immediately, she felt as if her vaginal mound was straining to reach the comfort of her own hands, and she felt a rush of inner moisture proclaim the intensity of the weird sensations. She could feel that the crotch-band of her panties was slightly moistened and her fingers inched forward, like individual bloodhounds on the scent of a relentless target.

Moments of rationality broke intermittently through the clouds of her frenzy, and taunted her with unanswerable questions. What had turned her into a roiling mass of feverish desire? Was it because Mike hadn't made love to her for so long? Or were the dirty pictures having an illicit prurient effect on her?

Her fingers kneaded at the burning lips of her moistened pussy through the flimsy panties and Sandra winced from the delicious contact. Why should I be denied pleasure? her mind argued dimly. All those girls were enjoying themselves; Mike was pleasing them... it's not fair that I should be left out...

As though they had received assent, her fingers burrowed hurriedly under the legband of her panties and teased over to the tingling flesh of her swollen pussy lips, and Sandra felt the fleshy folds pulsate under her sensitive fingertips. She sighed from the exquisite sensation, feeling relief flow through her. This is wrong... YOU SHOULDN'T DO THIS! Veiled threats echoed through her mind, hidden warnings from schoolgirl-filled corridors... dark messages about evil masturbation...

But Sandra was too intoxicated with the rush of pleasure to pay any heed to her own sombre warnings, and her fingers continued to plunge into the warm deep recesses of her desire-drenched pussy. Nothing mattered to her now -- the whys and wherefores were unimportant -- all that she was concerned with was quenching the raging fires that had sprung up unattended in her loins, and which required heavenly fuel to feed its lascivious hunger before it allowed itself to be put out.

Suddenly irritated by the impediment of her panties, her hands began to tear impatiently at them, and she raised her hips from the swivel chair, and eased them down over her thighs, leaving them dangling at her knees. But she didn't care about that -- her hands were rolling up her soft angora dress and bunching it about her hips, and she revelled in the freedom of exposing her passion-enflamed loins to the cool evening air which was rushing in from the half-opened office window. Her fingers dug impatiently again at her burning furrow, and convulsively probed at the trembling hole of her clasping cunt.

"Aaaaaahhhhhhhh..." she couldn't suppress a sigh as her hand cupped onto the now moistly pulsating orifice and she felt the heated walls close in like a vise on her sunken middle finger.

The passion inside her was goaded on to greater fever by the lurid thoughts which had taken possession of her head and would not yield. Obscene thoughts framed by the disgusting photographs she had seen, images of desire and lust instigated by many actions and acted out in many forms. She was almost convinced that a large heated penis was ramming into her eager, open pussy, that she was one of those girls whose head was thrown back in complete abandon, whose mouth was open and from which a stream of sighs was rushing, whose hips were churning under the delicious onslaught of a heavy, passion-bloated cock which was plunging deeper and deeper and harder into her...

Waves of heat were washing over her now as she ground her buttocks down into the leather of the seat and revolved her saturated fingers around inside the velvety interior of her febrile vaginal sheath. A feeling of dizziness was taking control of her, coupled with a wonderful sensation of relief, and now she knew she was cumming, because she felt so good all over, and her hips were jerking uncontrollably, and a mist of hot, feminine orgasmic fluid washed down over her churning fingers, and she felt the office revolve around her and her head was torpedoed by a kaleidoscope of collaged nude figures, male and female, all fucking and sucking and licking in total frenzy, and she was at the center of it all, and she was loving it, every minute of it...

Sandra slunk back against the chair, drained of all energy, curiously devoid of all feeling but a satiated stupor which controlled her and made it impossible for her to do anything, not even pull her dress down over her naked thighs. Her legs were splayed, her panties hanging uselessly at her knees, and in the dim of the mortification which was beginning to manifest itself inside her, she reassured herself icily... "he'll pay for this... I'll make him pay for this..."

***

Sam Maguire eased himself down from the ledge under the office window, and with a furtive glance around, slunk off into the foliage that surrounded the Peters' house. He was still trembling with excitement, and could hardly believe what he had seen. Later, when he got to his quarters, he would go over it all again in his mind, dwelling on every single detail of what he had seen. He couldn't quite believe that he had been so lucky. He thanked his lucky stars that he had decided to have a peek when he saw the window open in the office, and heard muffled sounds from inside. Of course, it was fairly dim inside, but still, he could see what was going on.

I seen her! I seen her fingerfucking her own pussy! he chuckled to himself, treasuring the memory of the faint glimmer of hair-lined pink he had glimpsed between her open thighs as he eavesdropped on the demented woman. He had seen her flimsy white little panties dangling at her knees, too. Who'd have thought that he, a mere farmhand, would have got a front row seat, and seen with his own eyes the beautiful wife of his boss, playing with herself? All the nights he'd dreamed about the lovely, haughty Mrs. Peters, all the times he'd imagined what she'd be like with her dignity lost and stripped bare-ass naked... now he'd seen her, half-naked anyway. She didn't see him, didn't know he'd been watching, but he had been, and God, he wouldn't have missed it for anything.

CHAPTER TWO

Mike hurried over to the dairy and went straight to the milking parlour. He spotted Eve right away, standing to the right of the long row of cows already chained in the milking passage. She had put on a white coat, and her blonde hair was piled high on her head, and capped with a small band of white. Even with her fair, creamy skin, she did not look washed-out, and Mike thought to himself how attractive she looked in the white dairy coat. Her ample curves were cleverly accentuated by the tightly belted garment and Mike could not resist running his eyes over her proud, full breasts jutting out like snow-capped peaks, the slight sway of her molded hips, the long arch of her shapely legs. She was talking to Sam Maguire, and turned when she heard Mike come in.

"Good evening, Miss Slater. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

"Oh no, Mr. Peters. Sam here has been showing me the ropes and making me feel at home. And do call me Eve, please."

"All right, Eve," Mike laughed. "We don't stand on formality here, so you might as well call me Mike."

Mike felt more at ease when Sam had ambled off to attend to the animals already milked. He felt a warm friendliness exuding silently from Eve, and it comforted him somehow, as he was still stinging from Sandra's verbal blows. He felt that her accusations had been unjust; he had bent over backwards over the past year to make up for the affair she had found out about, and yet nothing seemed to please her. She had changed so much over the past few years, he mused sadly to himself; she wasn't the same woman he'd married, laughing, full of fun, ready for anything. She had turned into a nagging, whining shrew and didn't seem to care whether he was there or not. It was that feeling of not being wanted that had made him seek refuge in other women. Of course, he felt guilty about it, feeling like a rat as he slunk off to his clandestine meetings, but he had to do something, or he'd go mad. Still, it was unfair of her to accuse him of being interested that way in Eve. He'd be mad to try anything with her, right under Sandra's nose. Not that he'd mind...

"A penny for them!" Eve's light-hearted voice chimed in on his rambling thoughts, and her interruption caused him to blush to the roots of his hair.

"I'm sorry, Miss... Eve, I mean... I've been so rude; I was completely carried away..." he stammered, conscious of her twinkling gray eyes fixed on him. He felt awkward, like a schoolboy. Her searching graze was so intent, he felt sure for a brief instant that she must have read his thoughts, but knew that was ridiculous.

"Well," he began lamely, "do you think you'll enjoy working here?"

"Oh yes," she exclaimed, smiling widely. "Everything's so up-to-date, and you've got a fine herd. Sam showed me around everywhere, and I even saw your donkey herd. That broken-colored stallion is magnificent!"

"Yes, he's a fine fellow, isn't he? Imported from England from one of the champions over there. I hope to have some good progeny from him next year."

"How is he working out as a sire?" Eve asked interestedly. Mike started, her question disturbing him. What did she mean? She knew he had only just got the stallion, that there wouldn't be any foals till next year.

"Eh, what do you mean?" he asked guardedly.

"I mean, does he do the job properly? He looked pretty young to me!"

Mike found himself coloring again. What was the matter with the girl, asking questions like that?

"He's able to manage," Mike faltered, and immediately turned his attention to placing the clusters on the first cow's teats. Normally, the dairy girl and Sam did the actual milking, but as Eve was new, and the machine might be unfamiliar to her, Mike had decided to help her, in case she needed any instructions or had any problems.

"I love the feel of a cow's teat in my hand," Eve mused to him, moving on to the next animal. "It feels so soft, so sensuous," she went on dreamily, "and it almost comes to life as the milk flows through it, and the thick frothy cream spurts out of it..." Mike was glad he was hidden from her sight, and that she couldn't see the flushed look of astonishment on his face. Her voice was so hazy, her tone so sultry, and Mike could see out of the corner of his eye that she was caressing one of the pink-tinged teats as tenderly and lovingly as if... He felt stunned by the impact of his own lewd thought. As if it were a man's cock! That was the thought that leaped into his head and drummed persistently at his consciousness.

"Mike, could you help me please!" she called out suddenly, and he found himself rushing over to her, glad of the chance to be near her again. She was hunched over one of the milk tube clusters which was lying on the ground, and Mike's eyes were drawn, as if by a magnet, to the exciting split between the tops of her creamy white breasts. He was mesmerized by the enticing glimpse of her deep cleft and had to drag his eyes away when she looked anxiously up at him.

"I seem to have lost one of the tops," she said worriedly, and Mike got down on his knees beside her, and scanned the straw for the dark-rimmed cap.

"Here it is!" he said suddenly, picking it out of a golden sheaf, and he began to screw it back into the tube.

"Oh thank goodness you found it," Eve breathed, laying one of her small white hands on his thigh, "I was so worried." Her touch was like a firebrand on his flesh and when he looked at her, she was smiling at him.

"Well, we'd better get on with the milking," he said weakly, and reluctantly, it seemed to him, she removed her hand from his thigh. He suddenly felt bereft, as if a part of him was missing. Pull yourself together, he chided himself, you're acting like a teenager, imagining all sort of ridiculous things.

They worked silently, preparing all the cows for milking, and Mike's thoughts were swirling around in his head. He couldn't shake loose the memory of her touch on his thigh. Did she mean to do that, or was it just an accident? And what did she mean by all that stuff about the teat?

Finally, Mike switched on the milking machine, and the barn was filled with the vibratory sounds of the pulsator.

"Mmm, it's hot in here!" Eve said suddenly, and began to unbutton her dairy coat.

"D'you mind if I take this off?" she queried Mike, and when he replied, "of course not," she removed it, and Mike saw that she was wearing a red see-through blouse and a tight black mini-skirt. He could see that she was wearing a matching red bra, really only a strip of lace, and his eyes were riveted on the generous mounds of her ivory breasts which were visible through the red nylon.

"Do you like them?" Eve's voice broke in on his distraction, and he could only stare open-mouthed at her. Had he heard her right? His heart began to thud uncomfortably in his chest and he was at a loss as to what to do.

"Would you like to see them?" Again her gay, mocking voice startled him.

"Wha..." he could only stammer.

"Would you like to see my breasts, Mike?" she asked again with exaggerated slowness, walking a step closer to him.

"Are you out of your mind?" Mike snapped, afraid that his mind was playing tricks on him. "This is no time for games!"

"I'm not playing any games!" Eve said silkily, and Mike watched in boggling disbelief as her fingers fumbled with the buttons on her sheer blouse. Gaping, he saw the edges fall away and reveal the exquisite form of her perfectly molded breasts, made all the more provocative by the dainty confines of her lacy bra. He could see the alabaster flesh heaving slightly and was hypnotized by the rhythmic rise and fall of the luscious orbs.

Incredibly, he saw Eve's hand slip around to the back, and in a moment, she was shrugging the thin satin straps from her smooth, pearly shoulders.

"Christ, they're beautiful!" He couldn't resist gasping as the full glory of her exquisitely sculpted breasts came into his astonished view. Craning his neck, his eyes bulged as he stared at the creamy expanse of the silky mounds, surmounted by delicate pink nipples, semi-erect from the rustling of her bra. Her hands crept up and cupped the full rounded young spheres, thrusting them out, pointing the hardening little buds at her disbelieving employer.

"God, Eve, I..." he murmured, unable to tear his eyes away from the half-naked girl. His head was swirling -- things were happening too fast for him. He could feel the protuberance of his cock growing, and it was beginning to swell against the confines of his pants. His hands fidgeted by his sides -- they itched to reach out and clasp those glorious globes of young college-girl tit flesh, to knead and pummel them. His mouth longed to take the tiny budding nipples between his lips, coax them into turgidity with his tongue, nip on their sweetness with his teeth. God, she was driving him mad, standing there half-dressed, like some youthfully naked Venus. She moved closer to him, so close that her naked breasts brushed against the blue denim of his workshirt, and the delicious contact sent eddies of almost intolerable pleasure soaring through him. Sinuously, she rubbed the hardened tips against his chest, purring like a cat, her arm resting casually on his thigh again. He wanted to pull away, order his errant young employee to get dressed, get on with the milking, but he couldn't. What he really wanted to do was take her in his arms, crush his mouth down on hers, knock the breath out of her with his kiss, caress those ripe boobies of hers, and then fuck her, yes, fuck her to within an inch of her life. Instead, he managed to inch backward a little.

"Eve... we shouldn't..." he faltered, his eyes dropping again to the sensuous grace of her unadorned breasts.

"We shouldn't... what?" she queried boldly.

"We... you shouldn't... tease a man like that!" he gasped, feeling his face flush. Yes, that's what she was doing, teasing him with her naked tits, her sulky voice, her veiled hints. Well, she'd better watch her step, or she'd get more than she bargained for!

"I'm-not-teasing!" she enunciated, her hand slowly reaching for the side zip of her brief black skirt. With a horrified stare, he watched as she eased the skirt down over her full hips, slipping it down her thighs, and kicking it aside as it reached her ankles, leaving her nude except for a tiny pair of bikini briefs the same startling red as her bra.

"For God's sake, Eve, anyone could come in..." Mike gasped, his eyes riveted on the golden triangle of pubic curls squashed beneath the sheer fabric of her panties.

"So what?" Eve laughed. "You're a man, and I'm a woman. What we do is our business... isn't it?"

"You're crazy!" Mike rasped. "You'd better get dressed before... before I..."

"Before you go out of your mind?" she taunted, moving in a little circle around the demented man.

"That's right, you teasing little bitch!" Mike rasped, his control snapping like a straw inside him. "You can't expect to go prancing around in front of a man, naked like that, and not affect him. You should know what this could lead to, the temptation you're putting my way. I'm only flesh and blood, and this is more than any man can take!" He railed on, his mouth dry and his voice hoarse, fighting to control the demons of lust which were mutinying inside him. She continued to look at him with her mocking eyes.

"Poor Mike!" she clucked, her hand dropping down and cradling the considerable bulge of his swollen prick in her palm. "What are you getting so uptight about?" she crooned as she began to massage the growing organ, feeling it pulse hotly in her hand.

Perspiration broke out on Mike's face. What the hell did she think she was doing? Poor Mike indeed! She thought she could twist him around her little finger. Well, he'd show her he wasn't the Milquetoast she thought he was!

"Now listen, Eve," he began, but her hand was already drawing down the zipper of his pants, and his demented cock, rejoicing in its sudden freedom, leaped up, cleaving the air, the red bulbous head grotesque in its palpitating arousal. His mouth hinged open as he stared down at the apparition of his own blood-engorged prick, and he moaned from the tremendous contact between her cool fingers and his heated, throbbing flesh. Her hands stroked and kneaded the elongated rod, drawing it out into an even greater length and Mike felt powerless to do anything but stand there and allow his new employee to stroke his ever hardening cock in her masterful, exciting way.

"Mmmm, what a nice big cock you've got, Mike!" Eve hummed, continuing her rhythmic pummelling of his pulsating organ, "I just know I'm going to enjoy working for you..."

Her hand reached in and cupped the squirming sac of his testicles in her palm, and Mike felt rising shivers of ecstasy course through him, emanating from the sensitive balls. Mike leaned back against the edge of the stall, lost in the sensual reverie that Eve was weaving around him. God, her hand felt so good on his cock, stroking and kneading like that... it was a long time since he'd felt a hot hand on his prick... too long, in fact... Sandra never touched him there... SANDRA! The memory of his wife jarred him back to reality. She could easily walk in here, find him like this, being stroked and caressed by this young voluptuous agricultural student! It would mean the end of everything, their marriage, all they had worked for! She'd never forgive him!

With a tortured groan, he wrenched back from Eve and backed out of the stall. His face burning, he stuffed his long suffering penis back into his pants, and hurried over and turned off the milking motor.

"I don't know what came over me..." he mumbled. "I must've been crazy... anybody could have come in...!" Unable to meet her gaze, Mike hurried over to the cows, and began to undo the clusters frenziedly, his fingers shaking.

"Mike!" Eve's soft voice was directly behind him. Squatting to remove the clusters from the cow's teats, he half-turned and saw Eve standing directly behind him.

"My God!" he gasped, the milk-clusters falling from his hands. She was stark naked! She was standing with her legs slightly apart, and he could just barely see the faint pink sheen of her pussy lips peeping out from under the soft resilient thatch of golden curls. His throat felt arid, and his voice failed him. He could only stare. She was like a creature from another world. A strange, exotic female who towered over him, and was omnipotent. She held the power to transmit incredible sensual ecstasy to him, and he was her slave.

"Eve..." he managed to croak feebly.

And then she was beside him, kneeling on the soft straw, pushing him gently back. He was unresisting, borne along on the wind of her tremendous sexuality. He was completely in her power, and yielded as she once more freed the heated protuberance of his bulging cock. He sighed an uncontrollable moan as it sprang up from the forest of his pubic hair and gasped again as her fingers once more encircled it, pulling on it gently. Her fingers were easing off his pants, and were playing titillatingly along his thighs, sending chills of pleasure rippling up and down and along his skin, and kindling great flames of heat deep in the pit of his stomach. Like a robot, his hands reached up eagerly for the target they yearned, and grabbed the full soft mounds of her tender breasts, and clutched at the delicate flesh with his talon-like fingers, making her wince from the sudden pain, and leaving little red welts on the smooth white skin. His fingers drubbed the hard little beads of her nipples, rubbing them mercilessly, tugging on them until they were rigid little spears. Beside him, the cow fidgeted nervously, anxious over the unaccustomed disturbance at her feet, and Mike felt a moment's paralyzing fear lest her hooves lash out at his prostrate body. But all practical consideration fled from his brain as he felt his young milk maid settle herself over him, her long smooth thighs straddling his naked hips and Mike could feel the graze of her soft curling pubic hair as it brushed against his naked stomach. Still grasping his distended cock in her hand, she began to guide it towards the warm grasping furrow of her cunt, and Mike sighed with pleasure as he felt the hard rubbery head caress the soft delicate tissue already moist with expectation.

She began to sweep the bulging head of his inflated prick along the length of her pulsating cuntal split, and the fluted edges of her moistly glistening inner lips clung tenaciously to his hard masculine flesh, and the bulbous head became lubricated with her free-flowing vaginal juices. His head was swirling and a wave of pleasure, such as he had not experienced in a long time, was washing over him again and again, and with each cleansing wave, he was laved of any doubts and fears he might have had. Gone was all worry about his wife or anyone else finding him stretched out with his naked young female employee; gone completely was any fear of discovery. All that mattered was the unbelievable thrill of ecstasy he was feeling and which he knew would mount up to an incredible crescendo of hedonistic delight.

"Mmmmm..." Eve sighed, "your cock feels so good against my pussy..."

The lewd words coming from the young, innocent faced girl's lips excited Mike even more and he felt lust mushrooming inside him and threatening to turn him into a raving beast. His hands flew down and grasped the girl's slim tapering hips, and held her in a vise-like grip. Hungrily, he began to rotate her entire pelvis until she was revolving over the spongy cap of his burgeoning penis still grasped firmly in her hand. Gingerly, she began to position herself over the jutting instrument, easing herself down slowly, until she had managed to insert the huge distended head up inside the tender inner folds of her cunt mouth.

"Aaaaahhhhhhh..." she sighed, accustoming herself to the hard feeling of a heavy, pounding prick inside her. But the initial contact unleashed the fury of Mike's lust, and with a savage snarl, he crashed the helpless girl's pelvis downward, driving his thick rod upwards with flesh-splitting cruelty.

"AAAARRRRGHHHHHHHH..." Eve screamed out and struggled in a vain attempt to dislodge the terrible instrument from her unsuspecting depths. But she was completely skewered, and the fleshy hair-lined outer lips of her pulsing vagina were resting on the tickling nest of Mike's blond pubic forest. Beside them, the cow snorted, frightened by the ear-piercing scream, and began to paw the ground ominously.

Mike's fingers clawed at the soft resilient flesh of Eve's smooth rounded buttocks as he raised her loins upward, feeling her sensitive inner membrane cling to his hard fleshy rod as her heated vaginal sheath slid upwards. He held her poised above him, leaving just the hard burgeoning head still buried inside her, and then he crashed her down again, feeling the spongy global mounds of her buttocks flatten down against his pubic area as his tunnelling prick plunged far up inside her, cleaving her unaccustomed flesh with cruel obstinacy. He could feel the pliant entrance of her cringing womb yield before his unabated onslaught and a gasp of mingled shock and excitement escaped her as she felt the unexpected pressure so deep up inside her impaled belly.

Eve's eager vagina had accustomed itself to the ponderous girth of Mike's trammelling penis, and she began to move up and down freely, establishing a yo-yo like rhythm. Mike's palpitating cock seemed to expand even more inside her and she responded with a gentle tentative flexing of her practised inner muscle which seemed to excite him to even greater lust. His hands shot up eagerly and enfolded the enticing orbs of her breasts in his palms, and they rubbed and caressed her throbbing flesh, sending chill after chill curdling through her blood, making passion pulse hotly through her veins.

"Oh God, Mike..." she gasped, her hands clutching at his tensely corded thighs, "your hands feel good on my titties... as good as your cock feels inside me..."

Tremors of passion were spasming through Mike. Eve's lewd words of praise sent lurid shivers running up and down his spine and doubled the already incredible pleasure he was feeling. He could hardly believe what was happening! Only this morning, this girl was a complete stranger, newly arrived from Agricultural School, and now, after a turn of events which had left him breathless, they were fucking, or rather, she was fucking him! Yes, she was the one who had seduced him, and who was now riding him like a savage Indian girl on a half-wild mustang, her thighs clenching his hips viciously, and the soft inner hole up between her legs milking furiously on his rampaging cock. He had never experienced anything like this before -- stretching out on the soft golden straw, being screwed by a real woman -- because that's what Eve was, there was no doubt about that. Beside him, the cow lowed deeply, finally accepting the strange, nakedly writhing couple beside her, and Mike felt her breath, warm and sweet scented, wafting gently over his perspiring face.

Mike glanced up and saw that Eve's face was coated with perspiration, her mouth was half open and her head was flung back. Her luxuriant coils of curls had become undone and her silky flaxen hair was streaming down like a silver stream over her bare creamy shoulders. He had released his savage hold on her breasts and now the full ripe spheres were bobbing from her exertion, the reddish-brown nipples jutting out like berries, and the brown aureolas were crinkled in their contracted excitement. His lust-glazed eyes travelled down the length of her magnificent body, coated with moisture, revelling in the soft yet supple milkiness of it, the provocative curve of her womanly hips, the lemon-colored fleece of pubic down which meshed so indistinguishably with his own. Her long slender thighs were like alabaster columns and Mike could see that the inner tendons stood out like whipcord against the ivory inner skin. She continued to grind wildly up and down on his jerking prick, making a little teasing rotatory movement as she rose up. Her fingers slipped around behind her squirming buttocks and stroked the squirming sac of his testicles in a sudden swift movement which sent his roiling sperm into a frenzy of churning liquid deep inside the darkness of his balls.

"Christ, Eve," he panted through the breathlessness of his mounting passion, "you're... you're incredible...! Oh God, keep tickling my balls like that..."

Mike felt a rush of heat that started in the pit of his stomach rise up in an overpowering curtain and steam through him, and at the same time, his cock began to jerk uncontrollably and the ache in his writhing balls had become unbearable.

"AAAAAGGGHHHHHHH... keep fucking... keep fucking... I'm cumming! I'm CUUUMMMMIIINNNGGGGG...!!!"

And then his body was caught up in a gigantic whirlwind, and he thought he would lose consciousness because a blackness appeared in front of his eyes, and he felt he was drifting away, but his faltering rationality was arrested by Eve's own hoarse screams.

"Oh God Mike, I'm cumming too. I'm... AAAHHHHHHH...!!" And she was cumming too, her pelvis pounding against his like gigantic waves against storm-tossed rocks. Her fingers were like razor-sharp spears cutting into the flesh of his hips, and the interior muscle of her vaginal sheath was an insatiable entity of its own. It was sucking, demanding, and getting, its life-giving quencher of his thick store of semen, which suddenly began to spurt along the pulsating tube of his spasming penis and hose hotly up into the heated cavern of her pussy. Almost immediately it seemed, the frothy liquid trickled back down around his pumping prick and seeped into the matted pubic curls, already moistened with the shower of her orgasmic release. The cow was blowing hot puffs of breath down onto Mike's steaming face, her big liquid brown eyes staring in boggled amazement at her two temporary stall companions. Her big, wet white nose just touched Mike's face as the last heave convulsed his dying prick and he emptied the final drop of his boiling semen into Eve's still hungrily twitching pussy. At last, the exhausted girl collapsed onto his panting body, and his now limp prick slipped easily from her wet, cock-stretched passage.

"That... that was the best fuck I've ever had!" Mike acknowledged gratefully. And it was. There was something about the spontaneity of the act which impassioned him to fever pitch, and the girl's own total sexuality, and lack of restraint, unleashed a similar characteristic in him. "You're quite a girl, Eve," he added admiringly.

"You're a real man yourself, Boss," Eve praised, smiling down at him. "You sure know how to please a girl!"

She lay her face down on his chest so he couldn't see her widening grin. Things are working out just great, she thought happily. She had been thrilled when she had met her new boss, captivated right away by his virile good looks, and now she had discovered that he had above average talent in other respects, too. Yes, she murmured to herself, I think I'm going to enjoy myself very much on this job!

CHAPTER THREE

Sandra threw her corduroy jacket over her shoulders and stepped out into the yard. There was a slight breeze which alleviated some of the premature heat of early May, and she began to amble towards the barns. She was glad the house was a short distance away from them -- she didn't think she could stand it if the animals were milling about directly outside the front door. There was nobody about and Sandra was grateful for that. She didn't feel like talking to anyone this morning, and particularly not to Eve, who turned out to be a very talkative type, always anxious to engage herself or anyone else in conversation. Sandra had seen her several times talking to Sam in the yard, and she had caught several glimpses of Mike and Eve laughing intimately together.

Mike himself had been very incommunicative when she brought up the subject of the new dairy help and how she was working out. Of course, she reflected, after that dreadful fight they'd had, she couldn't expect him to confide in her. She wished now that she hadn't been so hasty in accusing him of being interested in Eve, that she had kept her suspicions to herself, but the damage was done, and now she couldn't help thinking that there was something going on between them. It was several days now since they'd had that fight and Mike usually tried to make up with her right away after such an argument, regardless of whose fault it was, but this time, he just didn't seem to care. That was the part that hurt, he didn't seem to care anymore what she thought or felt. She felt it was a stroke of luck that he'd gone into town early this morning and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. It would give her time to think, and maybe even plan some strategy for getting back in his good books. But if he is really interested in that girl, I don't know what I'll do, she worried, afraid she might have gone too far. She hated to admit it to herself, but there was no denying that Eve was really attractive, and she had a slow, sensual way about her that Sandra knew was exciting to men. She felt a twinge of jealousy stab at her, and tried to banish from her mind the nagging suggestion, almost a certainty, she feared, that Mike had become involved with the new dairy maid. No matter what happened, she didn't want to lose Mike. But should I just sit back and let him play around with that little blonde right under my nose? she argued. Almost painfully, she thought again of the cache of pornographic pictures she'd discovered, lewd filthy photographs of Mike in disgusting positions with different women. The shock of finding them still affected her, and her subsequent action of getting aroused by them shamed her through and through. She didn't even allow herself to think of that evening, when she had shamelessly fingered her own vagina and actually reached a climax, all from the sensations, evil, wicked sensations, aroused in her by the vile snapshots. Every time the thought came into her mind, when the memory tried to torment her, she had brushed them back into oblivion, waiting for time to erase the sharp-honed edge of her humiliation.

"Good morning, Mrs. Peters," a voice sang out suddenly behind her. It was Sam Maguire, and Sandra, turning around, saw that he was leading Jacob, the donkey stallion.

"Good morning, Sam," she replied, feigning cheerfulness, and immediately turning her attention to the animal. She hated having anything to do with the hired hand. She never knew what to say to him, always being afraid of sounding too familiar, or worse still, acting very haughty with him. She began to stroke the donkey's strong arched neck.

"Jacob seems to be in fine shape," she mused, running her eyes admiringly over the animal's sleek black and white body.

"All the exercise he gets keeps him trim," Sam smirked, and Sandra turned to look at him.

"I thought he's kept inside for the season..." Sandra puzzled. The donkeys were the only animals she was really interested in on the farm, and it was she who had encouraged Mike to keep them in the first place. They were becoming very popular everywhere, and top quality foals could fetch very high prices. They had ten mares, and just this one stallion.

"That's what I mean," Sam leered. "His mares keep him busy, and he sure knows how to rise that big rod of his. Yes sir," he went on, staring intently at her, "them she-donkeys sure seem to love that long prick of his shoved far up in their..."

"How-how dare you!" Sandra gasped, her face scarlet, mortified with embarrassment at the farmhand's lewd words. Who did he think she was, that he could talk to her like that, use such filthy language in her presence? Anger seethed inside her like bubbling oil, threatening to overflow and scald everything within distance. But she managed to control her feelings and said in a low, even voice: "Please watch your language, Sam. Mr. Peters does not tolerate obscenities, and I would hate to have to report your despicable behavior to him." Even to her own ears, her words sounded dictatorial and stuffy, but her shock was still electrically alive inside her, and she was incensed at the liberty the worker had taken with her. She had a good mind to tell Mike, and perhaps even have Sam fired for his insolence.

Sam looked the picture of the abject servant. He held his old cap in his hand, and his reddish-gray hair glinted in the morning sun. His head was slightly bent and Sandra saw with satisfaction that his face was suitably blanched with fear and consternation. Jacob stood by calmly, seemingly totally unaware of the minor drama his presence had caused.

Without another word, Sandra stalked away, leaving Sam glaring after her. Fucking bitch, he spat. Can't even take a joke. Well, she'll get her come-uppance one of these days; I'll see to that! In fact, tonight just might not be a bad time!

Sandra felt irked by the sound of the back doorbell. She had just settled down to watch T.V., and was looking forward to relaxing for a few hours. She had spent most of the day in the garden, digging and transplanting the seedlings she had sown in the spring, and she felt tired and wind burned when she finally came into the house and fixed a cold supper for herself. The heavy physical work of gardening had taken her mind off her worries, and now she had been hoping that the television would do the same, and that she would feel sleepy after watching a few shows, as she usually did, and that she would then drop off easily to sleep.

With a sigh, she got up and went through the kitchen and opened the door. She experienced a flicker of distaste that coupled with her annoyance when she saw who was there.

"Good evening, Sam," she said tonelessly, not bothering to hide her irritation.

"Sorry to bother you, Ma'am," Sam muttered, fidgeting with his cap, his eyes downcast. "But the fuses went in the barn an' I can't see to do my work."

"Well, I think I've got some in the kitchen," Sandra said curiously relieved that he had a legitimate reason for calling on her so late in the evening. She found, somewhat to her surprise, that she had a new fear of the farm worker, a fear born from his distasteful remarks to her that morning. She sensed that there was an underlying hostility or arrogance in his attitude to her, and that his disrespect was a form of that aggression.

She noticed with displeasure that he had followed her into the kitchen, and willing herself to take no notice of him, began to look for the fuses. She wasn't quite sure where they were and

Keys: wife barn xxx west porn

Moscow sex show

She lay, spread-eagled, naked apart from knee-length white socks; hands roughly handcuffed to the iron bedstead above her head, ankles tied apart. She was on her back on the grimy mattress looking up at the single light bulb, waiting; waiting fo ..continue reading

Xmas sex story

It was Christmas Eve, 2015, and, in Heritage, California, it was about as cold as it ever got. The mercury was hovering in the mid-thirties and a cold, freezing rain, driven by an artic wind from a low-pressure system over Oregon, was falling all ove ..continue reading

Real sex story, My bro and his gf

My brother and his girlfriend have been in an official relationship for about 2 years now. However behind closed doors we have really been in a 3 way relationship, although my part is purely sexual. We have regular threeways and I have also been know ..continue reading

Sweets Stories: Shower

As Tom, Dick and Harry crowded together against the window each held out an erect penis already getting shiny and wet at the top. Young Tom's nearly touched his grandfather's which was fun. He liked looking at them side by side like that. When his g ..continue reading

Rape sex fantasies

It was driving Julie Morgan crazy! She couldn't seem to have an orgasm without first imagining herself being viciously raped by an unknown attacker. She had read all the books on female arousal, and even though they all repeated the mantra that just ..continue reading

Tea with a fuck friend

Sarah opened the door to her good friend Jane and let her in. “Hello Jane, it’s been too long since we last got together” Sarah told Jane as she entered and the two walked into the living room. Sarah already had a pot of tea out for them. “S ..continue reading