Farmhouse

There’s a small washed-up farm at the edge of my small washed-up town. It hasn’t been growing much besides a plum tree and maybe some kale for years now. In an effort to get the community to invest in revamping the farm up, its owners put on a small fair there. I don’t like to turn community activities down, so I found myself taking a tour of the farm with a few other townsfolk I didn’t recognize. Leading the tour was a handsome blond man named Russell. He introduced himself to be a volunteer at the farm, going to school to study biology. The farm is on the outskirts of a forest, so the walking tour turned out to be a short hike. Russell would stop here and there to identify flora for us with their proper names, as if we would retain any of that.

We reached a downward slope, and the loose gravel made me lose my footing a few times. At one point, I slipped so suddenly that I elbowed the man nearest to me in his gut, making him keel over.

“I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, dropping down next to him.

“I’m good,” he wheezed, getting back up.

“What’s your name? I’m so sorry.”

“Paul-”

“I’m so sorry Paul.”

“You’re really okay.”

I felt doubly embarrassed for overdoing the apology, but it is not often you manage to damage a complete stranger.

“I’m Lou, sorry again.” I just couldn’t help myself.

He pretended not to hear the last apology and we continued walking with the pack.

“Paul, right?” Russell called over.

“Yes,” He responded.

“I saw back at the farm you had brought camping gear. You planning on spending the night with us?”

Paul just nodded, unsmiling. In an effort to soften him up, I said to him,

“I am, too. I think it’s just so cute, how everyone in the community is spending time in nature like this.”

“Yet somehow they managed to bring no local vendors to the event,” he said in a bitter tone.

“Oh. I hadn’t even noticed that,” I responded. I wanted to add to his thought, but could think of nothing insightful to say, so that ended the conversation.

The walking tour wound up back at the main farmhouse.

“Now, we’re standing about twenty feet away because the house happens to be situated on a sinkhole. Farmworkers and volunteers used to occupy this space, but it is deemed unsafe now, as the whole building could collapse,” Russell explained, “However, we do not have the money to properly demolish it yet, so hopefully by the end of this weekend we can get a fund properly started.”

We nodded our agreement and followed him back to where we started, where a DJ was playing folk music under the plum tree. Families were seated at small outdoor tables, drinking handmade apple cider and chatting with their neighbors.

I mingled with a few people I recognized, but the sun began to set and the families who were not staying for camping began to return to their warm homes. If I squinted in the low light, I could just make out the lights of the nearest home down the road.

–

“I just don’t see how it’s not plausible.” Russell said matter-of-factly.

Russell, Paul, and I, were the last remaining around the campfire. Everyone else had excused themselves to the tents for the night after long conversation and campfire music.

“So we’re in agreement then?” Paul asked curtly.

“The question is, how?” I prompted.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Paul said.

“Like, how do they exist, I mean, how do they present themselves… ” I began, fumbling for words, “Okay, take technology for example: are they more advanced than us, technologically, or are they simpler than we are? We always assume they’re observing us, probing us–”

“-Because there are eyewitness reports about it,” Paul interjected, his tone irritated. “Besides, who cares about the simpler alien races in comparison to the more advanced races? Think about it: in our lifetime, we won’t traverse space nearly far enough to find them, so we’re reliant on allowing them to find us. Only the more advanced aliens would present themselves for us to interact with– who gives a shit about the alien cows in the next galaxy over when there are man-like alien species sighted on Earth?”

“What do you think, Russell?” I asked.

“You’ve got a point, Paul, it’s way more fun to think about the kind that are probably abducting humans. But as a biologist, I’ve got to admit I’m curious about the alien cows or alien sea anemones or… whatever, that could exist, too,” he said, motioning to me. “Even the simplest of life forms are still life on other planets. And how do you even define ‘life’ on other planets? They won’t have the same atmospheric conditions as we do, so their biological makeup would be entirely different.”

“What if it’s similar, though?” I asked. “What if life on other planets has the same biological ‘bone structure’, so to speak? Do you know what I’m trying to say? Like, maybe they breathe differently than us, but they still breathe to live? Or something like that?”

“You all are idiots,” Russell’s girlfriend called from the tents, “And you’re speaking too loud. Russell, come to bed.”

She was right – we were three morons trying to sound intelligent around a campfire, making obvious efforts to impress each other with our weak understanding of potential space life.

“Okay, y’all, I’m going to call it a night. Can I trust you two to put the fire out before you sleep?” Russell asked.

“Sir yes sir,” I said. Paul nodded solemnly.

Russell groaned like an old man as he rose from his tree stump, and slowly hobbled into the darkness.

A silence fell over the campfire at his departure. I didn’t know how to talk with Paul one-on-one, and he didn’t seem eager to get to know me, either. Fortunately for me, though, that did not deter me from making conversation. Serious men are a challenge I meet with open arms. I love to see if I can make them crack– loosen up a little– either by warming them up or annoying them to their breaking point. It was always a bit of a gamble, depending on how they responded to my personality.

“How much do you want to bet Russell and Lauren are making good use of their private tent?” Sometimes I blurt words out before thinking it through. I guess my mouth went for the provocative route.

His eyebrows raised, and he appeared ruffled. It was progress in one direction, at least, though still too early in the conversation to tell.

“I, uh…” He began

“Just kidding.” I said, to save him the trouble.

Another silence rang over the campfire.

“So, the house looks kind of spooky at night, doesn’t it?” I said.

“Yeah,” He responded, looking past me at the dark shadow of the farmhouse.

“Aren’t you curious about how it looks on the inside?”

He offered a brief chuckle. “I wasn’t really, until just now.” A pause. “Want to walk over there and check it out?”

“Sure,” I said. “We really didn’t get a close enough look at the tour.”

Paul rolled his eyes at mention of the tour. “The Tour. Whatever. It was just an excuse for Russell to show off his god-level plant knowledge. All hail Russell.”

“Don’t speak about my lord and savior that way!” I hissed. “He’s too dreamy for that kind of blasphemy.”

Paul rolled his eyes at me playfully. I gave him a grin back, grateful to feel him warming up.

We threw dirt over the fire and walked together in the darkness, letting the flashlights on our phones lead the way.

Before we knew it, we were there. We stood in awe of the gray and white painted house looming over us. It had two stories, with a staircase leading up to the front porch. The first level of the house was elevated, the basement wall below made of stone.

“I didn’t realize how high up the windows were,” I remarked.

Paul, a full foot taller than me, peered into the nearest window. “It’s hard to make anything out, my flashlight just reflects off of the window.”

We shuffled our feet, unsure of what to do next.

“Want to try the front door?” I suggested.

“It’s locked.” He said flatly.

“You really don’t know that,” I responded, leading the way to the front porch.

The steps creaked below us, louder under Paul’s weight. I tried the front door and wouldn’t you know it, it was locked.

“I really want to go in,” I whined.

“I could boost you up through the window?” Paul suggested.

His attitude caught me by surprise.

“That’s a great idea,” I whispered, suddenly realizing how illicit our midnight stroll had become.

I rushed him to the side of the house again, and he reached up to open the window. It was unlocked.

“Okay,” he directed, getting on one knee, “Put a foot in my hands like so… and I’m going to stand up to let you in…”

We both grunted from the exertion as he raised me up, and my upper body found its way into the open window. My lower half was still hanging out of the house, but my arms were caught at my sides so I was wriggling around like a middle schooler trying to get out of a pool. I felt his hands push at my legs, to no avail. His fingers tickled the back of my thighs as he repositioned his hands higher up on my legs, but at the angle he was at, pushing at my thighs was not helping either. Without warning, he resorted to pushing me up by my butt cheeks. I gasped when I felt his hands there, but he did not apologize or stop. He was so determined to get me into the house, he probably did not realize where he was grabbing. His large hands squeezed my ass as he lifted me into the house, and I could free my arms from my side. Enough of my body was in the house for me to not need his help. Before he parted, I thought I felt his fingers slip under my jean shorts, just for a second..

I gathered myself inside the house, bringing my phone flashlight out again, adrenaline pumping. I walked over to the front door, the floor creaking with each step, and let Paul in. He ducked under the low door frame as he entered, and gently shut the door behind him.

“Let’s explore?” He suggested.

The two of us crept through what must have been the living room, into the hallway, observing the faded photographs of the workers who used to live and work there. I pointed out a dusty picture of a farmdog sitting alone in the field, framed in a quirky purple circle. It was mounted over the door frame at the end of the hall, as if the hallway was a long line of framed dinner guests and the dog was at the head of the table.

The hallway led to a reading nook at the back of the house. There was a cushioned seating area under the windows, and shelves of books below the bench and along the walls. They were all unwanted, leftover books that nobody cared to claim. I pitied them. I reached for a brown paperback with a man’s portrait on the cover. Paul got comfy on the dusty seat cushion and beckoned for me to join him.

“What have you there?”

“It looks to be… an autobiography… of a Mexican professor who does not believe in affirmative action,” I replied, reading the back.

“Huh. Well, open it up, you’ve got to see if it’s any good.”

So I picked a random page and read the first paragraph aloud.

“Okay, what does his sexual prowess have to do with affirmative action?” I exclaimed before finishing the last sentence. The entire paragraph was him affirming the readers that despite his nerdy childhood and skinny body, he was popular among the ladies.

Paul chuckled. “We all need to get validation from somewhere, from time to time. Unfortunate that he decided to publish his cry for it, though.”

I looked up at him. His eyes were spooky over the flashlight’s glare, looking more sunken in than usual, but his expression was nonjudgmental, while mine was screwed up in discomfort over this author’s poor writing. I fixed my face and leaned closer to Paul. Him saying that brought me to the decision that I wanted to pry him open to get to know him better, not just because I enjoyed the game.

“What would you write about?” I asked with an air of mischief.

“Uh- about affirmative action?” Paul looked startled, knowing where the conversation was headed.

“No, if you were to report to the masses on the kind of lover you are.” I smiled in the dim light, keeping my tone playful and light.

He inhaled. “Um. Hm.” I could tell he was in fight or flight mode right now – engage or break away?

I helped him out. “I mean, okay, for me, I would ideally not give away any of my personal business to just anyone. But there’s also a little exhibitionist in me who would probably enjoy it. So in all honesty, I would keep it humble – say that I have a rather uninteresting sex life – but I’d also reveal that it excites me to have sex with strangers.” I paused. “So, what about you?”

He blinked at me. “Well… my ex-girlfriend liked to role play?”

“But I don’t care what your ex was into!” I prodded, “I shared of myself, now it’s only fair that you share of yourself as well. You don’t have any fantasies…?”

“Okay, you’re right. Well.” He looked at me with a pained expression, as if he were about to confess to a murder. “I have always had this fantasy about having sex in an abandoned old farm house. If only I could write about it.” He sounded genuinely defeated.

I opened my mouth in mock surprise. “Are you suggesting-? But Paul, you dirty man. I barely just met you.”

He smiled, finally deciding to give in to the feeling of comfort I was offering to him. He put his phone down by his side and gingerly rested his hand on my thigh.

Slowly, he asked, “Did you lure me into this shabby old shack to fulfill a sexual fantasy tonight?”

“You suggested it,” I countered.

We grinned at each other in the moonlight.

“So…” he started, “Are we going to kiss, or?”

“I’d like to kiss, yes,” I said.

Without another word, he leaned in to brush my lips with his.

Most men either kiss strong in passion and vigor, or weakly in insecurity and inexperience. Paul’s kiss was different than most men’s. He kissed softly, tenderly, and slow, as if we had been in love for years and we had many years to carry on like this. This was unexpected for me. I panicked at first, trying to lead us into something more hot, with my lips widening and tongue searching for a way into his mouth. He obliged briefly, clearly picking up on what I wanted, but soon took control again with his slow and deliberate style. I submitted.

Flirting with him just a minute ago, I was hoping for the clothes to come ripping off and frenzied fucking to ensue in the creaky old house. Kissing him softly under the moonlight was the last thing I had envisioned. It felt oddly romantic, despite my not knowing anything about him.

I inched my body closer to his in between kisses, eventually finding myself on his lap. We found it to be an awkward angle for us, though, and shared a laugh over it. He grabbed my lower back and turned us to the side, so we were lying on the bench now, him on top of me. Then, he began to devour me. The soft kisses became deeper and more urgent, and we crescendoed, finally, with our tongues brushing together.

His kisses trailed from my lips to my ears, and his tongue fully came to play. He licked in and around my ears, a particularly sensitive spot for me, which made me moan out loud. The sound of his breath mixed with the sensation of his wet tongue inside of my ear made me squirm. He tongued my earlobe as if it were my clit, then trailed his hard tongue down the side of my neck, with intermittent kisses on the way down to my chest.

When he reached my collarbone, he looked up at me, and I nodded my consent. He unbuttoned my blouse slowly, revealing my braless chest. He grabbed a breast with each hand, and began kissing them in his slow and deliberate way. My full chest felt small cupped in his large hands. My dark nipples, usually inverted, were standing at his attention. His mouth then covered my left nipple, and he teased it with his tongue, then sucked it, hard. I gave a sharp inhale when I felt him nibble at it ever so slightly. He looked up at me again, but I just grinned back and brushed my fingers through his thick brown bangs, revealing his tall forehead.

He moved on to the next nipple, repeating his pattern. I was in heaven. He began kissing my stomach, making his way even further down. His hands trailed behind, holding my waist at first, but when his mouth made it to my belly button, his hands moved towards my ass. This time, his fingers traced the skin under my shorts for longer than a second, and it was definitely intentional.

He paused when his mouth reached my shorts, and I assisted him by unbuttoning them. With great enthusiasm, he tugged them down, struggling a bit at my ass, but he pulled them down nonetheless. Unclothed was my pussy in all its hairy glory. He sat back to take a long look at my body strewn across the dusty bench, and brushed his finger down my side, feeling the curve of my waist and hip.

“You are very beautiful,” He said matter-of-factly.

“So are you,” I said back.

And he was. His straight hair hung like a mop over his brow, but when he pushed it back, like he did just then, I could see the structure of his face. Oblong, with dark features, wearing the constant expression that he was holding onto something heavy. It made me trust him, for some reason I could not explain.

“Do you really want to do this here? The house could cave in at any second,” He asked.

“I’m still game if you are.”

He just nodded, and came closer to my body again. With his hand reaching for my wetness, he planted more tender kisses onto my mouth. When his fingers touched my pussy, I felt them slide immediately off, it was so slick.

“Wow,” he murmured into my mouth. He kissed me down my body again, on my side this time, trailing kisses down my arm to my hand, then from my waist to my hip, down my leg. He even sucked a dirty toe for a moment before transitioning to my inside. Up the inside ankle, calf, knee — he slowed down at my inner thigh, massaging it as he traveled up, and finally reached my pussy. The suspense had me aroused to no end. He kissed around the vulva, burrowing his nose in my pubic hair, and then looked up at me as if waiting for something.

“I need you to lick my pussy,” I said in an almost joking tone, trying to mask the real urgency of the request.

And without a word, he took a long lap with his tongue over my vagina, tasting my wetness for the first time. Like the way he kissed, he started slow and soft, but I urged him on with my body language to keep going, faster, please.

And like his kissing, his pace picked up. He lapped my vagina some more, but focused most of his attention on my hard clit. His tongue flicked from side to side, and god, everything felt right in the world. The abandoned farmhouse was sexy to fuck in, but when he sucked and licked my clit, I was transported to an alien planet. The room around me became bright and white, and I felt a warmth bubbling up inside my body.

“I’m going to cum,” I whispered, and at those words, I did. He worked at my clit and I jerked back and the room became even whiter and brighter and a choir of angels sang and cymbals crashed.

When I returned to reality, I saw his moonlit figure wiping his chin with his shirt sleeve, making his way back towards my face.

“Can I fuck you now?” I asked when I finally caught my breath. I was eager to return the favor.

“Of course,” he said, in his courtly way.

We both reached for his pants at the same time and got confused with so many hands trying to do the undressing. He took a step back from me to do it himself. His cock bounced out of its hold and I stared in awe. I couldn’t believe how hard a man could get from eating his partner out. I moved so he could share the seat with me, my hands in my lap and my legs tucked underneath. I leaned forward onto his cock and began licking it, then sucking. He breathed heavily, enjoying every stroke. Yet to me, it did not feel like enough.

“I want to ride you,” I said.