My name is Todd. I am a ‘Middle America’, male W.A.S.P. who having hit forty a couple years back does not like thinking about what the next big benchmark birthday is. Lynn for the past two decades has been my best friend, wife, partner, and playmate. As you might imagine the past year has been a little quieter than usual so I decided to go back into the archives of my memory for this adventure. In case you are wondering the title is not a misspelling, just a play on words. Role refers to roleplaying and to be honest of the many things stuffed into that barn’s loft, hay was not one of them.
This takes place almost ten years back and was about three years after the Vegas trip that kick started our adventures. If this is your first time with one of our stories, for our tenth anniversary I stole Lynn away for a Vegas weekend and packed a couple, at that time, risqué purchases: a vibrator and fuzzy handcuffs. It turned out the mother of my children could be quite the submissive freak and I found I had a talent for tying her up and making her squeal.
This story was our first planned public sex, although I’m not sure if the locale really counts as public. But since we had are first ‘almost’ interruption, if not really ‘almost’ caught in the act moment, it might. We were visiting Lynn’s parents on their farm.
Yes, Lynn is an actual Farmer’s Daughter.
The Farm is located about three hours northwest of Saint Louis and we can get there in about four hours from our house. So when the boys were younger we would make frequent trips during the summer or holidays. This time it was for an extended weekend and we had arrived late Friday evening. Lynn’s Dad had been wanting to take the boys to Mark Twain Cave and the youngest was old enough that Lynn okayed it for that Saturday. Lynn and I opted out using the excuse of not wanting to spend more time in the car. Lee, Lynn’s Dad, was fine with that. He was in grandpa mode and did not really care if we were there or not. Louise, Lynn’s Mom, was also fine but I thought I saw her give her daughter a knowing smirk although I hope to God she was just expecting a normal ‘afternoon delight’.
That’s an old song reference that predates even me, google it.
Since we were not going, the boys piled into Grandpa’s truck, a King cab, and the foursome headed down the drive to the country road that lead to the highway. Lynn requested a call when they arrived to make sure they made it okay. Lee grumbled but acquiesced. It’s funny how when your children become parents, you become the child again. Hopefully I am still many years from that, although Lynn is going be a magnificent GILF (G for grandma).
Lynn, maternal concerns aside, requested the call to give us a time buffer. The idea was that if something happened and they had to turn around we did not want to be in mid-adventure when they pulled up to farm. If they called after arriving we had an hour at least. But that meant waiting that same amount of time for them to call. That was a very long 74 minutes–Lee stopped for snacks.
The call finally came and was abbreviated. Lynn hung up and grinned at me. “I’ll go change.”
The game this time was “The Farmer’s Daughter and the Convict.” Said daughter, all alone on the farm, would come out to the barn and be caught by an escaped fugitive. I would blindfold and handcuff her, then have my way with her in the barn. Lynn said no toys and I was to use her however I wanted but I could not cum inside her. At that time we had not moved on to a permanent solution for birth control and Lynn did not want to go back on the pill. So apparently said convict would not have had sex toys but had taken the time to stop and get some condoms. But I figured he would also have an imagination so I packed an extra condom.
That was all I needed to do to get ready so I headed out to the barn leaving Mike, the massive black lab that accompanied Lee everywhere on the farm, inside the house. I did not want the company. The barn was about twenty yards from the house and attached to the fencing that went around the yard.
I should say that the farm raised cattle, and a few chickens, and not any grains or vegetables outside a small garden Louise kept inside the yard. But do not make my mistake when Lynn and I were dating and refer to it as a cattle ranch.
According to Lee, he was a Farmer. Lynn called it the Farm. Ranch was a term used for bigger operations; Lee had a little over a hundred head. I looked up the difference online. Farms grew crops, Ranches raised livestock. But Ranches are considered a subset of Farms. Not all Farms are Ranches, All Ranches are Farms. So technically Lee was, and still is, a Farmer. I realized quickly it was more of a Midwestern thing.
The Barn was massive, with huge openings on both ends, and a door on the side into the yard. Lee kept his larger equipment within including a couple small tractors, ATVs for getting around his 210 acres, and more implements than I had a clue of their use. The main floor served as a through fare for the cattle in and out of the barn lot where they stayed at night for safety and the rest of the farm where they roamed and feed during the day.
The loft covered about half the main floor, fourteen feet up and was accessed only from a secured ladder to the left as you entered from the yard door. There was also a pulley rig used to getting bigger items up but I did not see any benefit to its use for us.
Lee had a separate tool shed where he kept all his other work items and the barn lot held several three-sided shelters for the cattle to feed so the loft had become storage. Old furniture, Christmas decorations, and other oddities. As I mentioned, no hay.
Lynn had said that was for the best. Unlike what the movies might show, hay was not always the most comfortable thing to lay on, let alone be more active on. Although not as jealous as Lynn can be, I decided it was for the best if I did not know how she was aware of that.
I made a quick stop in the tool shed looking for a prop. A trowel, a small garden spade with a nine inch plastic handle, would work nicely for what I needed. I entered the barn from the yard and stood behind the door and waited for Lynn to come inside. I only had to wait a couple minutes.
When Lynn walked in I grabbed her, left hand across her chest squeezing her right breast through the fabric while I held the handle to the hand trowel against her back like the barrel of a weapon.
“Shhh. Take it easy and you won’t get hurt. You alone?”
She hesitantly nodded her head.
“Close your eyes. If you can’t describe me, then I’ve got no reason to worry about letting you go safe and sound. I just need a place to lay low for a couple hours…and maybe a little company to pass the time.” I then took a white handkerchief I had put in my pocket, rolled it, and put it over her eyes.
This latest accessory went well with what Lynn was wearing. She had picked out a lacey white dress that came off her shoulders and stopped about mid-thigh. She also had on white sneakers and anklets. She had thought about just going barefoot but neither of us thought that was a wise idea around the barn lot. From grabbing her before I could tell she did not have a bra on and wondered if she had panties. I’d just have to check later and see if she was a wanton little Farmer’s Daughter. Spoiler: in real life…she is.
I had gone with jeans and a white t-shirt. Lynn had originally wanted me to be in either an orange or gray jumpsuit. But I nixed that idea. If I even found one in my size–I was 6’4″ and at that time had a bit of a Dad bod–I would never wear it other than for that game. It would also be hard to explain if seen unlike her dress which was just hot. I came up with the idea that she should be blindfolded, the convict not wanting her to describe him, and it would not matter what I was wearing if she could not see me. Besides, Lynn’s imagination while blindfolded could probably come up with images far better than what we might find.
“Okay, this way.” With the trowel behind her I guided her over to the ladder that lead up to the loft. “Head on up.”
Lynn was hesitant at first, not aware we were heading to the loft. That had been my idea, it was more sanitary and a little more private. It turned out to be a good decision. I followed her up. I could see up the billowing dress to a pair of sheer white panties that did little to hide a shapely derriere and a smooth shaved vagina. I could not help but notice that Lynn’s ascent seemed to involve a somewhat widened gait, possibly to facilitate that view. Best to let her know the view had been appreciated.
As Lynn reached the loft–the top of the ladder extended to the roof and a hatch accessing it–I told her to step off and joined her. Even blindfolded it seemed like muscle memory for her, even ducking to avoid the slanted roof. I stepped off and moved Lynn forward a few steps and over so I would not have to duck down.
I gave her a pat on the butt. “Nice view coming up.”
I surveyed the stage for our game. The loft was maybe thirty feet across and close to that in depth. At the peak it was close to seven feet in height but slanted down to under five at the sides. On the outer wall, far side, was a window looking out onto the land in front of the house and the drive approaching it. Boxes and miscellaneous items covered most of the walls but left the center free for walking. The flooring was 2×12 planks fit tight and aged gray. A single naked bulb assisted the incoming sunlight to push back the shadows but in the middle of day it was easy to see.
I had not been up there in years and had no excuse to come up earlier in the day. But I hoped to find the one item I did remember seeing. It only took a second to see my figurative work table in the back corner. It might have been an ottoman for its size, about three feet squared, but it was easily two and half feet tall. I might have been a small table for its height, but it was lightly padded and covered in a deep, red leather. What it was however was forgotten. It was covered with a bunch of boxes marked canning supplies and a heavy layer of dust. Lynn has called it an ottoman, I refer to it as such for this text.
I took out a pair of metal handcuffs that had a quick release and pulled Lynn’s arms behind her to fasten her wrists together. Lynn had been insistent on buying new metal ones instead of our fuzzy cuffs from Vegas. Considering I was having her focus on sound and feeling over sight I could understand that. The good news was the boys had not started digging in our bags since we arrived.
“Don’t move, I don’t want you to fall.”
Actually that would be difficult. Lee had built a railing on the loft back when the first grandson had arrived even though said child’s mother would not let them up there for years and still was a little antsy about it at that time. I was not as worried since Lynn would be more careful and also would have had to move back several steps to even hit the railing.
I went over and moved the boxes off the ottoman and picked it up moving it to the center. It was heavier than it looked. I pulled Lynn over to it and sat down in front of her to examine my bounty.
“Since we’re going to be here for a bit together why don’t we get to know each other?”
I grabbed the front of Lynn’s dress and pulled down. The elastic pulled the top down her arms, exposing her breasts and catching on the cuffs leaving the dress top bundled at her waist. Lynn let out a practiced gasp but just stood there as I enjoyed the view.
If you do not have the picture in your mind from past stories I will gladly paint it for you. Lynn is 5’6″ with an athletic build that had at that time gone a little soft but still fit. She had straight brown hair that she was wearing in a page cut and timeless bright green eyes behind the blindfold. Her face had high cheek bones and a pair of full lips that you will read more about soon. Her skin was very light, her breasts almost white due to too little exposure to the sun. With two younger boys, beach or swimming both meant a one piece that was completely covering and tan lines that started at the shoulders. Said breasts are between B and C cups, closer to the latter but she wore brassieres of the larger size for comfort. Slightly off center of each delectable mound was a silver-dollar sized areola that already began to harden at exposure.
I could not resist and brought both of my hand up to cup her breasts, playing with the nipples and feeling them get erect at my touch. I reached around and grabbed Lynn’s rear pulling her to me so I could suck and bite on the dark pink nubs. After a couple minutes I pulled back, satisfied with the results. Lynn’s nipples were pulled tight, extended easily half inch. And they were not the only thing erect.
I stood up. Lynn was forced to take a step back but still up against me. “Those are some top notch titties, but I feel bad that I’m the only one getting to suck something. How about I let you for a while?”
I pushed down on her shoulders, and also held her left arm to help her kneel down. That was a challenge while blindfolded and with her arm’s behind her. When she was on her knees I unzipped my jeans and reached in through my boxer briefs to pull out my member. I did not even undo my belt. For my character this was just a way of getting my jollies. I put my penis up against her lips and Lynn turned her head. It actually surprised me at first until I remember the game.
I grabbed her chin and turned her back roughly. I pushed the head against her lips but they did not part. “Open up and play nice. I don’t need to get my weapon do I?”
Lynn’s mouth opened slightly and I pushed forward. At that time, Lynn was still working on her gag reflex so I stayed shallow, enjoying the feel of her tongue running under my shaft and massaging my frenulum, the feel of her lips holding onto the foreskin and sliding it back and forth as I moved. I purposely moved in and out slowly, not only enjoying the feel but the visual image of Lynn, topless, handcuffed and on her knees outside. At this point in our games we had only done a couple quickies out of the house. Having the time to truly revel in it was fantastic.
I pulled out. “This your first cock?”
Lynn flushed slightly. That was not just in character, it was Lynn. She nodded her head, a response that was only in character.
“Let see how much you can take.” I grabbed the sides of her head and entered her mouth again pulling her onto me slowly, but steadily. As I’ve mentioned before I’m not a giant, I’ve got six inches on a good day…but it was a very good day. Lynn’s nose was pressed against my denim and my glans at her throat. She was squirming a little but had not fought me to get off. Likewise, I could have pulled her all the way onto me and down her throat but I did not push the gag reflex.
“Good girl.”
I let go and she pulled back coughing. I gave her a moment and then grabbed her head holding it still this time as I took her mouth, not deep but a little quicker. Drool began to build up and slip out her mouth, down her chin and onto her gently swaying breasts. Video was forbidden but I would have, and would still, kill to have that moment and the next couple minutes on film somewhere.
I sped up a little and Lynn added melodic audio to go with the angelic video. She began to whimper ever so slightly at being used. It was too much for me and I went into overdrive, ready for release. It did not take long and I was firing into Lynn’s mouth without warning. What was more, we had decided I should abstain a couple days to build up to the game. Lynn had actually thought about a week but I was not that dedicated.
Since she was not deep throating me as I climaxed, the entire load expelled into her mouth. Not that it stayed there as she cough choked most of the semen out onto her chin and body. Normally I gave Lynn some warning before an oral cream pie. Now a days, she can tell by reading my body language. But I had completely caught her off guard. And although this had been part of my game plan she had not expected it.
I pulled out and she caught her breath. “Are you done with me?”
The question might have come from the Farm Girl, but the tone was my wife’s who was showing concern that now that I had climaxed I would be done. Honestly, I was rarely that selfish, even to the point of having trouble when Lynn offers a freebie. Sometime building up to a second round could be just as fun.
I reached down for her arms, pulling her up to a standing position. I ran my finger across her chin collecting the mix of semen and saliva, opening her mouth and then putting it on her tongue. “Of course not. My first woman in ages and you think I’m good with a blowjob.” I patted her cheek as condescendingly as possible.
I moved to the side and pulled Lynn forward to the edge of the ottoman. With a little wobbliness she got onto it, on her knees, then I pushed her forward…while holding one arm so she did not just slam down on the old dusty leather. I might be playing an abusive criminal but this was my bride. She eased down onto the old piece of furniture. Her face was pressed against the surface and her shoulders were scrunched together. This left her back bent over and her butt up in the air. I flipped the dress up and slipped the panties down to mid-thigh, again access was all that was required. I squeezed her right butt cheek and then ran my fingers across her labia. It took no effort to slip my middle finger inside.
“You’re a wet little slut. And I see I’m not the first guy to stick something in here.” Afterwards I realized that contradicted her earlier claims at virginity, but well the evidence was there…or rather, not there.
I moved my fingers up to her clit and gave it a quick rub that got just the barest of reaction. No problem. I knelt down and used my hands to first spread her legs then her labia. I leaned in and began running my tongue over her clit. Due to the angle I was only able to make contact with the tip of my tongue but this time I definitely got a reaction. Her breath sped up and it was not long before the Farmer’s Daughter was starting to make little mewling noises.
I know with time I could have gotten her legs shaking but the position was bothering my neck and probably hers also so I wanted to move on to something that would get a quicker reaction. I stood up and gave her rear a slap. I walked back over the railing where I left the trowel and picked it up. Lynn had said she did not want toys for the game but I figured the convict could make do with what was around. The handle was oddly angled, a little longer than the dildo we had back home, a little thinner in girth, and had absolutely no give to it. I opened one of the condoms I had on me and slipped it onto the handle. Although the handle looked clean I was in a barn loft so I decided giving my wife a vaginal infection would probably not be in my best interest. ‘The Horny Monk and His Hand’ is not an adventure I would look forward to transcribing.
I walked back over to Lynn. I smacked one cheek hard, then the next. Each got me a whimper. I moved on to her clit, playing with it a little roughly until I got the quickened breathing. Then with no lube other than her own, I pushed the handle in slowly, rotating it slightly as I worked it into her.
“What are you doing? What is that?”
That was not the Farmer’s Daughter. The exaggerated drawl she had added to her voice was gone. This was my wife who had what was probably a genuine mix of curiosity and concern. But she had not used the safe word so I kept in character.
I gave her rump a little pat.
“After you swallowing that big load I need a couple minutes before I’m ready to try the next hole, but no reason to have you just bend over and wait. Plenty of things in here that I can use to play round with you, maybe get you all hot and bothered for me. Don’t worry, I used one of the rubbers I found in the jeans I stole so you don’t get splinters.”
As soon as I said splinters I regretted it. It was not possible but she would not know that. I expected an explosion, but Lynn just let out a couple little grunts as I continued to insert the handle. I got most of it in, close to eight inches, before she said in a harsh whisper, “No more.”
I gave the tool a little push and she flinched. I pulled it out a few inches then eased in back in a little less. It was also easier on my hand to not be gripping the spade itself. The process continued as I increased the speed a little. I reached between her legs and slowly circled her clitoris with the tip of my middle finger. I got her breathing to speed up when I thought I heard something.
“Back in a second.” I pushed the handle in so it would not dislodge and walked over to the window in the loft that faced out over the lane that lead up to the house.
I glanced out to see a dust cloud in the distance; a vehicle on the gravel road. It was not Lynn’s parents with the boys. They would not have made it back even had they turned around after calling. Her brother, David, had moved back for the summer but was gone on an extended weekend with his fiancée. An old grey car I did not recognize pulled up to the house and a young guy with blonde hair I did recognize got out. It was one of David’s friends who worked for Lee off and on. He probably did not realize both Lee and David were gone. He went up to the house and knocked. Mike went nuts but no one was there to answer. Lynn heard the noise and started to move but with the trowel in place and her hands cuffed she could not get up easily.
“Shhh. Don’t move and stay quiet. It’s Joe. I can have you up and decent in just a few seconds, but he’ll probably just leave when no one answers.”
I crept over to the edge being careful to stay out of view. Joe was walking to the barn. I began to second guess leaving Lynn trussed up. I hurried back to kneel beside her and whispered, “Hold still and be quiet. He can’t see us unless he comes up the ladder.”
Which was true, the loft was big enough, high enough, and we were far enough up and away from the edge to be seen easily if I crotched down. I heard a boot on the metal doorway below us.
“Anyone here? Lee?”
I got ready to release the cuffs but after the question there was no sound. I thought I heard footsteps outside and quietly slipped to the window. Sure enough Joe was heading back to his car and I watched him get in and drive off.
I walked back over to Lynn and was going to tell her we could continue when I brushed my hand against her inner thigh and she shuddered. I watched her and realized her breathing was very fast and she looked flush. Almost getting caught had amped up her excitement. Also, I did not think she had heard the car either coming or going. I decided to add a twist to the game. One that Lynn afterwards admitted she enjoyed but during the game was ready to kill me.
I whispered into her ear, “Joe grabbed a rake and went back around to the barn lot. We need to stay quiet so he doesn’t come up here when he comes back.”
To this statement I took the trowel handle which had slide out more out from self-lubrication and muscle contractions. No need for a slow reentry and I shoved it in all the way, no reluctance this time.
“Oh God.” She said quietly and I leaned over and put a finger to her lips.
“I can’t see him from over here so we have to listen for the door.” Not that I was going to let her focus on anything.
I started slipping the handle in and out, slower thrusts to start, then at an accelerated pace. She was trying to hold back, biting her lower lip as quiet gasps and whimpers escaped.
In what she might have thought was a whisper, but was far from it, Lynn said, “I can’t keep quiet with you doing that.”
I clamped my hand over her mouth this time. “Yes, you can. If he walks into the barn I’ll stop. But if you scream he’ll hear you even in the barn lot.”
That much would have been true if Joe was still around. I had almost convinced myself enough that I wanted to look out the window and see if he had returned but I was listening for sounds and the Farm was devoid of humans save us.
Her legs twitched, but she held back her orgasm, keeping the vocals to a low growl from her chest. Not too bad if we had really needed to be quiet. But we did not and I did not play fair. I pushed the handle in as far as I could holding it in place with two fingers and stretched my hand so my thumb was rubbing her clit also. A very uncomfortable position, especially with my hand still clamped over her jaw. Thankfully the reaction was instant.
“Please.” I recognized the word muffled by my palm.
For the life of me I was not sure if that was to continue or stop. Out of character I whispered, “That didn’t sound like a safe word. If it’s not a safe word you need to be quiet.” I moved my hand from her mouth to take the trowel, letting my right hand focus on her clit and the left start the handle going again.
“I…can’t…”
Still no safe word so I continued. She might have realized Joe was gone but she acted like she did not. Later she admitted she did not know for certain if he was gone but was trusting me to get her decent and prone before he got to the top of the ladder. The idea of someone being in earshot of her when I was forcing her to orgasm was too much to pass up.
Lynn’s body was on edge. Her legs were barely holding still and a shrill whine, that would have been way too loud had we been trying to stay silent, was escaping her throat. I decide to put her over the threshold. I slipped my right shoe off my heel using my left and, with it just on my toes, kicked it off. I cleared the railing somehow and it landed down on the main floor on what I latter realized was the work table by the wall knocking over a couple cans of odds and ends–and making a mess that I had to clean up afterwards. Honestly that was dumb luck. The floor was dirt, had I hit it Lynn probably would not have heard anything.
The unexpected noise coming from within the barn caused Lynn to erupt multiple ways. A loud scream erupted from her throat. Her legs and torso erupted in spasms. And her vagina erupted, squirting all over my arm and the ottoman. It was not her first squirt but it was rare.
Before she began to panic I told her Joe was gone, had been gone before I started to tease her.
“That wasn’t very nice.” she said with a grin behind the words.
I leaned down, drying my arm off on her dress. In character I said, “Little Farm Girl, I’ve only just started to do not nice things to you.”
And with that I opened the second condom. I was hard and wanted my turn. I slipped it on and pulled Lynn back to the edge of the ottoman and back on her knees. I pulled her legs apart and lined myself up with the wet, swollen pink hole and rammed into her. I enjoyed Lynn at a vigorous pace but realized after a few minutes that unless I wanted to add a second break I needed to take it easy. I had thought the condom would help with maintaining control but it was not.
I slowed to an easier pace, grabbing her ass checks with my hands and spreading them so I could watch my member move in and out of my bride. It was then I noticed the little sphincter just north of where I was working and remember this was not my bride…this was my toy.
My instructions had been to use her however I wanted. Just like the squirting, anal was not a new thing but it was almost as rare. Lynn was not a fan and back then even when I asked she was not readily up for it. But the Farm Girl, blindfolded and handcuffed, with her ass in the air did not really have much say if the Convict decide to enjoy every hole.
I pulled out and spat into my hand to help with the condom although it was still quite wet. I almost reminded her of the option of the safe word but stayed in character instead.
“Bet you never gave the boyfriend this hole before?” I stepped up, grabbed my cock at the base and pushed it past her sphincter.
She let out a loud gasp, her mouth open wide and her body going rigid. I pushed in, again shocked by how tight it felt. I grabbed her waist, just above the hips, and pulled her onto me. I used that grip to hold her in place and proceeded to start thrusting into her.
Lynn had commented as we started down the BDSM trail that I had a tendency to not be that rough when I was supposed to. She said It was sweet that I had that limit but sometimes sweet was not what was wanted. So I decided to make an effort. I increased the speed of my thrusting and would occasionally stop to slam my hips into hers.
I grabbed her hair, pulling her head up off the ottoman…
I got a couple “Oh God”, a somewhat angry scream, and a steady stream of grunts and gasps. But no safe word. Actually in all our playing Lynn has only used the safe word twice, neither of them due to what I would consider rougher treatment. As she has pointed out before, after dealing with child birth twice I was going to have to just be cruel to beat that and I was not cruel. In fact, I realized that although I was enjoying taking her anally I was more focused on her reactions than my sensations. Enough that it took me a moment to realize that something felt different. I pulled out and found that the condom had broken. Annoying but it could have been worse. If I had gotten Lynn pregnant just a few weeks before my appointment to ensure that could not happen, I would have needed a safe word.
The annoying part was that I had only brought a couple condoms out to the barn. I had more packed but I was not ready to just leave Lynn tied up while I headed back up to house and I was fairly certain that if we stopped we might be stopped. So time to change the game plan.
Lynn had not moved but was catching her breath. I smacked her ass hard, getting a yelp this time. Then I wrapped my left arm around her thighs, pulled her legs together, and with my right arm under her torso I picked her up and flipped her on her back. I dare say, it was the one thing I did that surprised her the most. I went around to the end of the ottoman and lined her up. Her rear was on the edge, her head hanging off the opposite.
I pulled off the remains of the condom and worked the panties off her legs. I did not rip them off. One: unless they are old and torn you have a better chance of dislocating your partner’s hip than ripping them off. Two: it seemed like a waste.
As the panties crossed over her sneakers, I grabbed her ankles spreading her legs wide. Unlike when I had her kneeling on the ottoman, on her back she was a bit further down. I had to crouch down a little before I entered into her, keeping her legs spread wide apart.
Once again I got several “Oh God” and a lot of whimpers and grunts although there was a much different vibe to them this time. I also got to enjoy Lynn’s breast moving up and down, synchronized with my thrusts. I let go with my right hand and was happy to see Lynn holding her leg out on her own. I grabbed her right breast, squeezing it and when I released watched her nipple harden, begging for more. I proceeded to grope her left breast.
I considered playing with her clitoris but was having difficulty maintaining control as it was. If she started to climax I would end up joining her, and in the heat of the moment she would want me to cum. Instead I grabbed her throat. That was almost as bad, Lynn loved some mild choke play. She said that the combination of having me inside of her and controlling her breathing–being so out of control–was euphoric. Sure enough I could feel her body tensing. Time to switch things around.
I pulled out and she let out a frustrated cry. I let go of her throat and ankle and the legs bent in but stayed spread, ready for me to return.
I picked up the trowel and walked to the other side. I leaned over her and worked the handle inside her. Lynn’s back arched and she let out a satisfied moan. The victimized Farm Girl was all gone now. I moved the handle in and out using my thumb to brush her clit gently. I glanced at her face to see she had already anticipated my next move. Her mouth was open, her head moving, searching for my member to take into her mouth.
“Not yet. When you’re ready to cum, then I’ll let you swallow my load like a little Farm Girl slut.”
She flushed down to her breasts. I loved that.
I leaned over to be able to support myself on my elbows and free my right hand to play with Lynn’s clit easier. That also let my left focus on violating her with the trowel handle. It only took a few minutes until she began showing the signs of climaxing. I watched and just as she was about to peak I pulled out the tool and stood up.
I stood there watching her writhe, her breasts heaving and her legs twitching. With her arms handcuffed behind her she had no choice but to arch her back, thrusting out her breasts. I could not help but stroke myself watching her. It had taken effort to not let her have me while I had played with her. But as much as I enjoyed the view it was time to finish, or so I thought.
“Okay little Farm Girl. I’m going to make you cum with the tool and you’re going to make me cum with your throat. But you need to beg for it. Can you do that?”
She gave a shaky nod but was silent.
“Nope, you gotta say please.”
“Please.” She all but whispered it, but I let it go. Years later getting her comfortable with talking dirty is still a work in progress but watching her blush after all these adventures is a joy.
I leaned over to insert the handle, using my elbows again to have both hands free to play with her. I did not keep myself raised enough to stay out of reach. Her mouth found my member and she began her work. The feel of her lips moving up and down my shaft was amazing. But I had her worked up much further than I was so it was not long before she lost control. She pulled her head away and let out an extended squeal. Her legs clamped shut and I moved myself but left the handle.
After about ten seconds, she relaxed her legs and the squeal turned into just heavy breathing. Lynn was so on edge now I was curious how many orgasms I could give her. I moved to the side to avoid her mouth, at this point I was also on edge, and put my left hand around her throat. My right worked down between her legs. The trowel had worked a little loose so I pushed it all the way back inside and then returned my forefinger to fondle her clitoris. I squeezed some with my left hand and got rougher with her clit. Again her legs folded in and she let out a scream this time.
My fingers were not exactly comfortable thanks to the handle and pressure but I keep up the stimulation and she continued to shake.
“Please.” She screamed.
I let loose of her throat and stopped moving my finger, but kept contact with the sensitive nub.
“You want something?”
“You…in my… mouth.” Her whole body was flush so I did not notice any difference as she made her request between breaths.
“You want me to cum down your throat?””
“God, yes.”
I could not resist that invitation. I moved back around, “Open wide.”
She did, both her mouth and legs.
“I’m going to make you cum one last time, but only when I’m ready.”
I grabbed her chin to keep her from devouring me as I teased her by tracing her parted lips with my glans. I really wanted to enjoy this but realized once I had her lips and tongue on me I would not last and the longer I let her cool down the less likely I could get her to climax one last time.
So I entered her mouth, but held her head in place so I could control the thrust. Not that I could control her tongue. I quit fighting and starting bucking up against her face with as much abandon as I would have her vagina. I leaned over her bouncing breasts and grabbing the trowel pushed the handle back in and then out, plunging it with as much tempo as my wrist allowed.
I was trying to figure out how to massage her clit and still stay up enough to enjoy the view when it became apparent I did not need to. Once final time Lynn’s body let loose, her hips bucking up against the farm implement and a deep sound muffled by my penis in her mouth issued forth.
That triggered me and my next thrust put her lips against my jeans and I shuddered, releasing down her throat as requested. She convulsed under me and I could hear her chocking, the gag reflex was still an issue. Luckily having already feed her a load earlier that playtime I was done quickly. I pulled out the handle and leaned back to pull out of her throat, then mouth.
Lynn rolled over onto her side, coughing up sperm and saliva, then started to breathe slower. I leaned over to undo the handcuffs but found that at some point she had already done so and just left her hands in place. She mentioned later that the cuffs were bothering her and she had been concerned they might become a distraction.
I slipped off the makeshift blindfold.
“Can you walk?” I grinned. I could not help but grin.
Lynn smiled back. “Oh course not. You might want to wash whatever it was you were using.”
I held up the trowel and her eyes widened.
“Handle only.” I replied to the silent question. “And I kept a condom on it.”
Lynn sat up. “Still, wash it…maybe even throw it away. I assure you Dad wouldn’t want it now, not that He’ll know but I will. Meanwhile I’ll need to find a reason why his ottoman is all wet and dirty.”
I did not throw away the trowel, whenever I have opportunity to be in the tool shed I glance at it fondly. Lynn did not need to worry about the ottoman. Leather cleans easily and if Lee ever noticed it had been cleaned up, he did not say anything. Odds are, he probably did not notice. My next time in the loft that Christmas I saw that it was stacked with other boxes.
That fantasy filled, Lynn was fine with sticking to her childhood bedroom most of the time while on the Farm, although I talked her into a literal “roll in the hay” a couple years later in the middle of the night in a wagon Lee had set up for a harvest hay ride. Not my best idea. Too chilly and Lynn was right; not as comfortable as you might think.
If you enjoyed this early adventure please check out our past entries that are set in the future of this story, which is still the past as of the present. Sorry, confusing. I even got Lynn to chronicle a tale and hope to get her to do another. As always, names have been changed to protect the innocent and me. All accounts are as accurate as memory (severely tested in this case) allow. Lynn in proofing the story asked for an addendum that my memory might embellish certain things. I have no idea what she’s talking about.