Fertile Farm: 20 Erotic Farm Girl Collection

by Candy Quinn

  Their love was hard and fast, edged with tenderness and passion, just like their sex. It was so exquisitely them and she moaned as she felt those hot lips press against her, those teeth nipping her tender flesh, and her clit throbbed.

  His breath got shorter as she heard him pound into her a little more erratically, and she knew his time was nigh.

  With the slap of their moist sexes so loud, he let loose a noisome groan as he quaked. An impressive shudder passed through him as he let loose his load of seed into her already fertilized cunny, though it did not dampen his enthusiasm in the least. Eyes rolled back into his head as he gripped her in his arms, lifted her off the floor a few inches and clung to her tight with his release.

  She grasped him so tightly and felt that love subsume all, her mind hazy as he found his pleasure in her. She adored the man more than anything and she gasped with such appreciation and fondness.

  They should have been more worried about things. For even if her father accepted them that day, how would they explain the fact she was already swelling with child now? Instead the two carefree lovers clung to one another with some damp perspiration from their rutting between them as he slowly lowered her back to the ground. “This is just the first of many youngin’s,” he said to her in a post-coital voice, so deep. His hand stroked over her belly. “There’ll be many more ta follow.”

  She laughed as her sandaled feet found the ground, then swirled to look at him with laughter in her gaze, but it fell as she saw passed him to the open barn door, “Pa!”

  They were caught in such a lewd state. For as she spun to face Legault his hard manhood slipped messily from her and there couldn’t conceivably have been a way to explain their situation beyond the truth.

  Her lover was caught by surprise for only a fraction of a moment, for he tucked himself into his pants and immediately stated. “I ain’t mean no disrespect sir, I’m sorry ya had ta see this but--”

  The older man went directly for him, his one hand balled into a fist as he charged Legault. Her lover able to block the blow but the grapple was on.

  “Pa!” Amy shouted, grabbing for her father’s bicep and trying to tug it away. It wouldn’t truly be much of a fight, the other man so much older and feebler, but Legault didn’t want to hurt him. Amy tugged, her body quivering with fear, “Pa, it was my fault! I love him! Please!”

  Amy couldn’t hold back the tide of her irate father though, for he might’ve had only one arm and was in his fifties, he was strong and hard working. He shook off her grasp and continued attacking Legault.

  “You bastard!” he cried, “You defiled my daughter!” Though Legault deflected the blows with his own arms, the strikes were hard and he was forced to fall back to the rear doors of the barn.

  “I love her! I’ll marry her right here an’ now if you’ll let me!” cried her lover. Her father charged him and knocked him out the back door where he rolled away from the older man towards the tree line a few meters off.

  “Pa!” she chased after them, trying to tug at her father’s shirt and losing her grasp instantly, “Pa, stop! I’m pregnant!”

  That froze the man in his tracks. He looked to her, his face turned blood red.

  Legault took that opportunity to roll away in his work shirt and pants, pulled back towards the rocky slope that dipped into the forest. He stood with his hands out, watching the man to see how he responded.

  With a crazed cry her father charged at Legault, screaming near incoherently though she could make out amongst his cry the word “Sin!”

  As the older man came at him, Legault tried to grapple him. The thud of impact between the two muscled men was tremendous and despite his best attempts to brace against the blow, Legault went tumbling back over the rocky slope and out of view with her father entangled.

  Amy ran after them, stumbling as the tears burned her eyes, “Please!” she begged. Her heart pounded and she thought she might be sick, watching the only two people left in her life fight so. It tightened her stomach and made her body ache with each step as it tore her apart, “Pa, the Up Above wanted this! They wanted you to be a granddaddy!”

  The sight that greeted her below spoke to the contrary.

  It was the saddest moment of her life, burying this man she loved so dearly.

  Amy had only to watch of course, but it didn’t make it much easier. Things had gone so wrong so fast. In retrospect she didn’t think any of them wanted it to go so far as a death, not even at the peak of her father’s rage. If only there had been more time to cool down...

  It was night by the time he was buried, a small fire lit in the recently revealed grass that silhouetted the only person left in her life. He’d done it all himself, despite having the use of only one arm. After what had happened, he couldn’t dream of letting her do a thing.

  With a sad look he came back to her, “I’m so sorry, Amy,” his voice more depressed than she’d ever heard it, his face contorted in hurt and regret.

  She thought back to the first time they’d met, to how broken up he’d been over the war and killing, and she moved to embrace him. She couldn’t console him, even though she knew how heartbroken he was. Even though she knew it would eat him up for the rest of his days.

  For her, all there was sorrow, and she wept openly into her lover’s chest, her hand down to her belly and rubbing it with such melancholy. She couldn’t form words, not really, and her sorrowful blubbering was all she could manage. Her heart burned, her entire body felt weak and limp, and even though she’d had time to mourn, it wasn’t enough. Would it ever be enough to ease this ache?

  The farmhouse was so spacious for the two of them, even as they approached three with her advanced pregnancy. Spring was there in full bloom, and Legault did his best to step in where her father left off. Returned after a long hard day of work in the field, one arm still in a sling from the fall he took, he gave her a smile. It still had that warmth in it, that love and affection, but she knew he kept some hurt in him for what had happened. What he couldn’t have prevented.

  “I’ll be a farmer yet,” he declared with a deep exhale. “Though I think I’ll need both arms ‘fore I’m any good at it, Amy.”

  “You’re doin’ fine,” she reassured him as she set out a pitcher of water and a bowl of soup for each of them. She’d grown so much since he’d first met her, even though it’d been just over half a year. The death of her father and the pregnancy hadn’t dimmed her youthful spirit, but it had tempered her.

  She still smiled at him with such love and affection, though, even in those moments she woke in the middle of the night to fits of sobbing. They slept in her room, now, and had moved two of the beds together. She couldn’t bare sleeping in her father’s room or bed.

  “How’s your arm goin’?”

  Sat down at the table he reached across to her, his hand rested atop hers. “It’ll be fine before ya know it,” he declared optimistically, though truth was the thing wasn’t healing as fast as he’d expected.

  As they began to eat he cleared his throat after a few spoonfuls. “Hun, I know it ain’t great ta talk on,” he began carefully. “But with Spring here, I reckon the odds o’ them collectors or conscription brutes comin’ by are goin’ up,” he stated, and she knew it to be the truth. They never failed to show up, gauge crop yields and haul off men who’d come of age, or deserters. Like him.

  Her face fell and she nodded, “Yea. I know.” A young woman running a farm... She nearly scoffed at the idea. They’d have different ideas, and worse, take her love away from her. Leave her alone, not a soul left to love in the world. “You can’t go back to the war. Maybe it’s time ta head back to the forest, lay low again...”

  Legault shook his head, “I had a better idea. That is,” he cleared his throat, “if’n ya were feelin’ up to it. I understand if ya weren’t though,” and he gave an understanding smile to her. “I know it wouldn’t be pleasant, so if ya ain’t, I’ll hide out in the forest as often as I can.” Though he knew that wasn�
�t an option. A farm with only a young pregnant woman, being tended to apparently all by herself with crops growing would be obvious to the most idiotic inspector.

  “What is it?” she asked, her voice quivering with uncertainty as she shifted in her seat and lifted her shaky hands to a glass, sipping down the water.

  “Well hun,” he said, his spoon placed down. “I’m a good deal older’n you,” he said plainly. “And so... if’n you were up for it, we’d put on the act of me bein’...” and his pained face told how hard it was for him to say. “I’d pretend ta be yer pa. That way they’d not question a thing. Unless it were the same inspector as last year,” but they both knew that was unlikely. The war ate up soldiers so fast, and inspectors were rotated to the front so often.

  She looked crushed, and she set down the glass, resting her trembling hands on her knee. Tears threatened her once more but she blinked them away, swallowing hard. It wasn’t for a long few minutes before she finally spoke again, “Y’think that’s best?”

  This was the last thing he wanted to have to discuss with her, but he nodded. “I don’t think we have a choice, hun,” and his eyes glistened slightly. “Even if I did go hide in the woods when they came, they’d take a look at you with yer belly full, and a farm full a growin’ crops, and they wouldn’t buy for one second you was alone. They’d hunt me down, arrest you for harbourin’ a criminal.”

  She knew he was right, but it broke her heart to admit it. “They’re gonna ask who the daddy is.”

  He nodded, “I know. We’ll have ta say yer husband went off ta war. They’ll buy it,” he said.

  Her hand reached out for his, squeezing it so hard. “I’m not gonna lose you,” she said sternly. “There ain’t gonna be nothin’ or no one that’ll take you away from me now. I need you more then that damned war.”

  They were upon the cusp of summer, and already the snow was gone and the sun had picked up its intensity. Supper was not yet ready when Legault snuck into the farmhouse, and with a certain amount of playfulness that had come with the passage of time since the tragedy, he came upon her at the table and pounced. His strong, bare arms around her pregnant, swollen form. Cradling her stomach with one arm, across her breasts with the other, he kissed at her neck. “Gotcha,” he murmured into her flesh.

  She gasped but immediately she sank into his body, chuckling as she relaxed, “Damn it, you scared the daylight from me!” She still mourned, for she would always mourn. She’d lost every one of her family, yet she had him, and for that she was grateful. Eternally.

  “Dinner’s not even ready yet,” she put down the wooden spoon on the cutting board and ran her hands over his. “Though, you make it hard for a woman to complain too much.”

  His lips moved over her flesh, supping and nipping at her skin, up to her earlobe as those powerful hands rubbed over her stomach and massaged at her engorged breasts. “‘Course it ain’t ready yet,” he chided in a husky voice, “why ya think I came in so early for? Wanted ta catch ya before ya got stuffed with food.” He gave a bit of a playful growl, “Was thinkin’ I’d stuff ya with somethin’ else first.”

  She swatted his hand as she laughed, a low, throaty sound that spoke to her arousal as much as anything. Pregnancy had done something fierce for her needs, and she felt so swollen and wanting all the time, much to his joy. Even as she entered the final weeks, she felt no desire to deny him their joint pleasure.

  “You’re a real charmer,” she teased, but she took his hand to lead him towards the bedroom.

  With a graceful gentleness he took hold of her hand and hip, spun her around and pressed her to the wall. He was so careful since she’d advanced in her pregnancy, but still he could be so smooth.

  A big toothy grin on his face, he pushed up alongside her. “I don’t think I can make it that far, hun,” he taunted, kissing her then tugging her bottom lip with his teeth. One of his hands even dared to dip low, lifted her dress and pushed those rough fingers up between her milky thighs to her sex, to feel those bare labia beneath.

  She whimpered, her blue eyes flashing with deviousness, “My, my, Legault. What’s gotten into you out there in the field?” Her voice, even though it was filled with teasing, held such lust and appreciation. She loved how affectionate he was for her, and she felt such sincere desire for him in return. Her legs parted to let him feel out her swollen sex, dipping into that reservoir and begging out the moisture.

  Dressed in his work pants and shirt, with the sleeves rolled far up above those bulging biceps, the hard labour of farming had only added to his physique. He was stronger than when she met him even.

  Deftly his fingers worked her to a frenzy beneath her dress, his kisses so expert as they made out there in the hall right beside the door. He ground up against her side, the bulge of his manhood so apparent, so needy for her. “Mmm, Amy,” he groaned lustily.

  Her red hair was tied back in a braid over her left shoulder, her smile so bright against her pale skin. Even in pregnancy she looked like a youthful beauty, a farmer’s daughter, made for this type of life. Made for him.

  “You’re so bad,” she murmured, but her lips pressed to the exposed bit of his chest, licking over the peppering of hair.

  With a husky groan he dipped his fingers into her slick depths then brought them up to his lips, tasted her upon the tips as his emerald eyes locked with her blue. “Mmm, Up Above, that’s good,” he declared, and abruptly his attention shifted.

  Legault looked to the door with a start, then with an abruptness that shattered the moment he grabbed the gun her father once owned. He looked out the window but by then she heard it too. There were horses outside.

  The only ones allowed to keep horses were the state. They confiscated all others almost without exception.

  There they were, with a cart pulled by two steeds, four black uniformed soldiers stood outside. It wasn’t the rough trench wear that Legault had found her in. It was the pressed black, with high jackboots and stiff collars. They were from the capital itself.

  “Legault, what do I do?” she asked, frantic, trying to smooth her hair and her simple blue dress at the same time. Her face was red with anxiety and that burning need he’d awoken in her, and she tried to remember. He was her... He was pretending to be her Pa. She swallowed down the sorrow at the unbidden memory as she moved back into the house a step, just to try to escape the anxiety.

  With a calm, steady voice he spoke to her, “Just be calm. We went over it all before, ya remember? You know what ta do.” He put down the gun, but for the first time ever she could see his hands shook, showing some sign of nervousness on the otherwise implacable Legault.

  There was no delay, for these men would know no sympathy, and would expect immediate response.

  Pulling Amy to him he kissed her forehead before opening the door. The officer amongst them came to the front porch with two others in tow. They were all but one tall fellows, though only the slender, striking officer reached Legault’s height.

  That man, in his shining uniform pushed past him into their home for he needed no invite. The two others moved in with caution, guns at the ready as they began to search. “If any military age men are on the premises, turn them over now or face summary judgement,” he rattled off with practiced precision. “All individuals of the household must report for census. Any goods beyond your allotment will be seized as taxation for the war effort,” and with a hard look the brown eyed officer stared at both in turn. “State your names and affiliations.”

  Legault had moved to her side, put his arm around her with slow caution as they were scrutinized by the harsh officer. He was nervous, she could tell that, but she doubted anyone who did not know him so intimately could. “Tom Ailshire,” he said in a deep but submissive tone. “Owner of this here farm. Father o’ one.”

  “Amy,” she dipped her head, even as her heart raced. She willed the flush of her cheeks to dim, but surrounded as they were, she couldn’t help it. She felt so small, and wished herself even smaller in
her simple blue dress, her pregnant belly making it billow against her thighs.

  They could hear the other two soldiers rooting through their home, toppling things and prying at the wood without concern for the damage they caused. Though it was hard to worry about that under the harsh gaze of the officer’s eyes. He didn’t carry a rifle like the other two, but the handgun in his holster was more of a threat at this close range. The baton he carried openly in one hand, tapped repeatedly against his thigh, a graver threat still.

  “Just the two of you then,” he said and Legault nodded immediately. The officer inhaled through his nose then, and Amy realized the scent of arousal was still thick on the air from their earlier playfulness. “This is your daughter then,” he stated plainly, to which Legault nodded. A sickened look crossed the man’s harsh face at that.

  Amy glanced up, her arms cradling her swollen womb as if to protect her unborn child from the glare, from the stress of the officer. “My brothers died fightin’ for the great cause, an’ my husband’s out there now, doin’ his duty, Sir. We only wish to help’em out there on the front.” Her voice felt so tight, sounded so strained, and she shifted her weight. Her body felt so heavy, so tired suddenly.

  The moment dragged on so long, it was agonizing to be so scrutinized, so ripped apart and examined by a mere gaze from such a cold man. Yet Legault’s arm about her grounded her some little bit.

  Just as it seemed he might never cease staring them down with his doubtful, angry gaze, the other two men returned from having ransacked their home. Without a word they went out behind the officer, the routine old hat to them, nothing needed to be said. “We’ll be back in time for harvest. Don’t try to withhold your duty-bound share. We’ve tallied what you should produce and we will expect it precisely. Anything less is tantamount to treason,” he stated then pivoted on his heel. “Think of your husband out there should you doubt your duty to provide.”