Fertile Farm: 20 Erotic Farm Girl Collection

by Candy Quinn

  God, I wanted it. But…did I really want it this way? My first time, in the middle of the road with a stranger? Did it even count as a first time if he did…what he said he would do? I didn’t know, and as I felt a knot in my throat, I realized that I didn’t care.

  “Come on,” I breathed, and I clutched the side of the door as he went to his knees and started to undo the button on my shorts, strong hands helping me down to sit on the step bar.

  His fingers were as deft with my clothes as his arms were with the moonshine. I felt my denim shorts being tugged down roughly in no time, the warm summer breeze tickling my suddenly exposed lips.

  My heart fluttered. I’d never been exposed like this outside for as long as I could remember. And certainly never in any kind of situation like this. I felt like there were eyes all around me, watching me reveal myself in front of a man I’d only met a few minutes ago. What in the hell was I thinking?

  Warmth spread up through my body before he even touched anywhere near my privates. His big, rough hands held my hips as though he’d held them a hundred times before, and the low rumble from his chest told me he felt as hungry for me as he looked.

  This man, this bandit who could throw me to the ground and take me any way he wanted me, was relishing the moment before I let him taste my cunt.

  “I’ve been to a lot of little places like this around the South,” he murmured as he squeezed my ass, “but the hospitality down here is unlike any other.”

  “C’mon, don’t keep me waiti-OH!”

  I’d put my own fingers in my vagina plenty of times before, more times than I’d like to admit, but nothing, nothing felt like the strong jaw that pressed itself into my wet folds, and my whole body shuddered as his tongue gently massaged the outside of my pussy. It pressed up against my lips and wasted no time going in when he realized how soaking wet I was.

  “Sweetheart,” he husked, “I didn’t know you were this ready to give a little love.”

  “Keep doing it,” I whimpered, “and hurry, he’ll be here soon!”

  Honestly, whether or not the sheriff was getting close wasn’t the foremost thing on my mind. From the moment his tongue touched me, I just wanted him closer, further inside me. I wanted to feel him comforting me the way I couldn’t do it myself.

  I found myself letting my hand grasp at his hair, trying to press him into me harder as I started to rock my hips.

  The next moment, he was moving his tongue in tandem with my rhythm. It felt like all of my muscles were unwinding, but shivers ran up my spine all at the same time.

  I’d never even imagined that it could feel this way, and here it was, happening in plain sight for anyone to drive by and see.

  He was exploring my body with his tongue, getting more acquainted with me in broad daylight than I’d been with my closest friends and the crushes I had. I kept rocking my hips further, wanting him deeper and deeper, but soon I felt him resisting, his tongue wandering away from the depths I wanted it in. I subtly tried to make him go deeper, but he gave a firm murmur when he felt me trying to change his direction.

  Then my hand gripped the steering wheel, hard, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head as Jason wrapped a hand around my back to keep me from falling backwards. He’d just stuck his tongue somewhere close to the outside of my cunt, up along the top, and whatever he’d just hit, the ecstasy that shot through my body was dizzying.

  I couldn’t help but let out a sharp gasp, and in the next instant my heart nearly stopped at the sound of a car approaching.

  No, not now, any time but now, I begged as I felt sweat on my forehead. I was too out of it to look back, though, and to my horror, Jason wasn’t stopping.

  What if it’s the sheriff? What if he pulls up and finds me like this? I’m practically a moonshiner now, and on top of that there’s a hardened criminal in my—

  “Ahhh-AAAHHHHH!”

  I fell backwards, laying down on the seat of my truck as an orgasm unlike any other I’d ever experienced boiled over and shocked my whole body.

  My hand shoved Jason’s whole face into my pussy, my legs wrapped around his back and pulled him towards me as my muscles tightened, and I felt his hand covering my mouth as tears rolled down my cheeks while I heard whatever car was rolling by drive past the truck.

  My face burned like never before, even as the orgasm surged up from my pussy and into every limb. I probably knew whoever just drove by, and I’d just let out a loud shout while a stranger and criminal ate my pussy. What if their window had been down? What if they’d seen?

  The sudden shocks that washed over my body told me those thoughts were only helping me along to even more orgasms—and Jason wasn’t letting up down there. If anything, he’d become more aggressive.

  The criminal I’d let into my shorts was relentless in pushing me over the threshold of coming over and over again, his tongue doing more in minutes than my own fingers could in an hour. I lost track of how long the flicking and stroking went on, but by the time I finally felt utterly exhausted, I was sitting in the dirt on the ground.

  Pushing him gently away from my sopping wet cunt, I hoisted myself up on the step-bar and stared into his eyes.

  They were cocky. I was panting, my whole body glistening from what he’d just given me and my denim shorts still around my ankles, and the bastard was just looking right back at me with an easy confidence that made me want to cram him up against my cunt all over again. I’d never felt this relaxed in my life.

  Then my heart missed a beat when I remembered that we must have been down there a long time, and my ears pricked at the sound of a car driving down the road around the corner in the distance.

  Jason stood up suddenly. I wanted to reach up after him, drag him back down with me, but he pushed my hand down, suddenly alert to whatever was approaching.

  Even as he wiped my cum from his face, I saw his hand go to the back of his belt and stay there, his hawkish eyes glaring out to the road as if he were a sentry looming over me.

  “What the fuck, Jason, are you insane?!” I hissed, heart suddenly racing again as I realized he may well be reaching for a weapon. I hadn’t seen what was under his jacket, after all.

  He shot me a look for half an instant, and at first I thought there was a threat in it, but then his hand slid back down and he walked around to the other side of the car.

  “What’s your name?”

  I blinked, dumbfounded, before it dawned on me that I hadn’t even told this guy who I was.

  “Heather,” I finally said, “Heather Bradley.”

  “Get in the car, Heather,” he ordered in a firm but commanding voice, “and don’t take off too fast, but do it quick.”

  I sprang to my feet and pulled my pants up, cursing under my breath. The keys were still in the ignition, so I cranked the engine and took off before Jason even had time to shut the passenger-side door.

  By the time we were turning into my driveway, I just saw the front bumper of the sheriff’s car turning onto the street.

  What kind of man did I just let under my roof? The thought couldn’t stop running through my head after we’d hidden the truck in the barn.

  He’d been ready to pull a gun on a lawman. He was scruffy, pierced, and tattooed, and he was a moonshiner to boot. And in the span of about fifteen minutes, I’d agreed to hide his contraband and let him do things to me no man had ever done before.

  Ain’t the kind of man I raised you to let into your life, I could hear my Pa’s voice in my head. But here we were, sitting in the kitchen and sharing some of the moonshine Jason had promised over dinner.

  I put on an air of authority while we were in the house. He might have gotten to me outside, but here, he was in my domain. I had some dignity, after all.

  I was at the table, leaning back in my chair with my dinner with my feet kicked up on the table. He sat on the counter, on display up there like a statue. Even though he was across the room, I felt like he was looming over me.

  “Surprised you
manage this place, all by yourself and all,” he finally spoke after a long silence between the sounds of our eating. “Tough gig, all for a gal like you.”

  “Little more to it than just running booze,” I shot back, and he actually met my gaze. I’d expected him to be taken aback by the pushback, but there was something else in his eyes I couldn’t place.

  “Little more to moonshining than you’d think, sweetie,” he chuckled, “but I know you aren’t the type to know much about that.”

  “Not the type?”

  “Running this whole farm all by your lonesome, but nobody’s ever given you the kind of attention I did before? Yeah, you ain’t the type.”

  I half-choked on the sip of alcohol I was taking and flushed. “What? What makes ya think that was my—”

  He gave me a look that saw through the bluff even I didn’t buy. Settling down, I huffed and attacked my fried chicken again a little more aggressively.

  “I’m just foolin’.” I could practically hear him roll his eyes. “Hard-working gal like you is probably overdue for some well-deserved ‘R&R’ anyway, in a small town like this.”

  I didn’t respond for a while as I finished off my dinner, but I took a long swig of the last of the moonshine he’d given me. Brazen as he was, I had to admit he had some fine product; it tasted like blueberry pie.

  “You’ll need to take off at the crack of dawn,” I said curtly, “I’ve got a delivery coming early, and they’ll start asking questions if they catch the likes of you around here. I’ll patch up whatever’s the matter with your truck, and then you get gone, hear?”

  My drawl had a habit of coming out a little strong when I was on edge, and I could see by his crack of a smile that he’d picked up on it.

  “Yes m’ayam, I’ll be gone like a tumbleweed in a gold rush,” he imitated the accent with a heavy drawl, and I was already storming out of the room halfway through, face flushed. Why did I ever offer this asshole a hand?

  It rained that night. I stood at the windowsill of my room, barefoot in the same white nightgown I’d worn since I was a teenager.

  I ran my hand along the hand-carved frame while listening to the soft patter of the rain outside. The whole house had been made by hard-working, honest folk who led honest lives. My parents had brought me up to be one of them, too.

  I still was, wasn’t I?

  Why was I feeling like I’d taken a sledgehammer to everything my parents tried to build in me by bringing this bootlegging city-slicker into the house? He was only going to be here for one night, I reminded myself.

  But what happened by the truck…what was I supposed to make of that? Every time I thought about it, I felt a kind of burning I wasn’t used to. It was like I was ashamed of what I’d done, but I kept wondering whether it could happen again.

  I’d let Jason take the guest room. He was as crude as I could have imagined at dinner, but I couldn’t help but think about whether he was down there sleeping or still up, thinking I’d be coming back down there for what I knew I wanted more of.

  Another wave of guilt hit me—why did I feel this way about some low-down criminal?

  I touched a marking on the windowsill where an old crush and I had carved our initials. I’d been grounded for a week for bringing a boy up into my room, and another week for putting a permanent mark on a fine piece of carpentry.

  There wasn’t anyone around to ground me, but this time, I’d fucked up way more than that.

  Quiet as I was when I was a kid, I pushed my way out the window and crept down the rooftop by a way I’d learned well. I didn’t want Jason to hear me leaving the house, just like I didn’t want my parents hearing me when I snuck out as a kid.

  I padded out to the barn through the wet grass, footsteps shrouded by the light rainfall. My gown was short enough to keep from getting drenched in the wet grass.

  The barn door creaked as I pushed it open, and I moved past the moonshine-filled truck to the ladder that led to the hayloft. I clambered up, careful not to nick myself on a splinter in the dark.

  I hadn’t been up here in years. Not since my parents had passed. It hadn’t really occurred to me that with the whole house to myself, I didn’t have to hide what I’d stashed away up here.

  In the corner of the loft, there was a little box next to a lamp that I kept. I opened it up, and inside were scores of papers full of my awkward handwriting. I flicked the lamp on and shuffled through a few of them.

  They were poems. Most of them I’d written when I was ‘becoming a woman,’ as Ma said, and I didn’t have much of anyone to talk to about that kind of thing. New feelings, including the kind of shame I was feeling now, I realized.

  I’d never shared anything I’d written, and as far as I knew, I was the only one who even knew I’d written them. Maybe they weren’t as good as being able to talk through some of those feelings, but they were better than nothing…and I sure as hell needed some guidance right now.

  But I only had about five minutes to myself with my old scribbles before I heard a creak from the ladder behind me, and I whipped around as my heart leapt to my throat.

  The faint lamplight illuminated the top half of Jason. We locked eyes for a few moments.

  “Hey,” he said at last, as if he’d been invited up here. I swallowed.

  “What are you doing here, Jason?”

  For the first time, I thought I saw those ravenous eyes soften sheepishly for a second. “I uh…,” he rubbed the back of his neck and climbed the rest of the way up to the loft.

  “Heard the roof creaking when you left the house, saw you headed for the barn. Thought you were going for the truck,” he gestured down to the truck full of valuable alcohol down below. “Figured you was—”

  “—Gonna steal your moonshine, take off down the highway in a nightgown and leave the farm behind for one truck of bootleg?” I couldn’t help but laugh, crossing my legs as I tried to be discrete about putting my poems away.

  Jason didn’t look amused. Even as he stooped to move towards me, he seemed as tall and intimidating as ever, the light from my lantern flickering on his nose as though he were a bull striding towards me. I saw his hand leaving his back, and a chill ran up my back.

  How close did he come to pulling a gun on me over some booze?

  His look softened as he approached, though, and I realized his eyes were on my box.

  “What’s that?” he asked suddenly, and I instinctively I put my hand over it—the worst possible decision, I realized a moment later.

  Immediately, his arm reached around me, and he had snatched the box of my deepest feelings.

  “It’s nothing! Hey, give it back!”

  “What’s the problem if it’s ‘nothing’?” He was laughing at me, and I felt my face flush red. I yanked it back from him while he was laughing and hit him with a sharp elbow to the stomach.

  “That personal, huh?” he coughed, rubbing where I’d hit him and settling down.

  “Yeah,” I grumbled, carefully opening the box and picking out a somewhat less embarrassing poem, knowing he’d grab for it a moment later. “You’re right, it gets a little too quiet here from time to time. I write a little to let it all out. When I get a chance, you know. Here and there. Not so much these days.”

  I winced preemptively, expecting him to scoff, but it never came. I only felt a gentle tug at the paper as he tried to take it from me, and swallowing my pride, I let him have it.

  There’s no way not to feel embarrassed when someone is reading something of yours in front of you, but this was one of the most personal things I’d ever put on paper.

  My face burned hotter than the lamp that was letting those sharp green eyes scan the little sheet of verse. Every moment passed like an hour.

  “I uh…I’m not much of a poetry guy,” he started reluctantly, and my heart plummeted hard. Oh god what if this turns into just an awkward weird thing and he leaves? Why did I let him look at that?!

  “…but this is pretty great, Heather.” He looked
back up at me and gave me the first sincere smile I’d seen from him in my grand total of eight hours of knowing him.

  My heart soared.

  “You’re lyin’.” I tried to hold back a beaming smile, and even I wanted to laugh at my own drawl as it came out, more pronounced than if my grandma had spoken.

  “No, no,” he insisted, smacking me playfully with the paper, “I mean it!”

  We were laughing together now; half of it was my feeling lightheaded at a stranger taking a liking to something so private, so personal. The other half was the simple fact that I realized just how comfortable I felt with his being next to me.

  Here he was in the most private hideaway I’d had in my entire life, and now I knew I wanted him to touch me like nobody ever had.

  The lantern light flickered in his eyes, and I saw the familiar hunger in him—now genuine, where it had been just lustful before.

  I was surprised to feel his hand on my side—not because it was unwanted, but because I thought I’d only been fantasizing about it. We met each other’s mouths halfway and he dug his tongue into mine as I climbed into his lap and wrapped my bare legs around his waist.

  Without even realizing what I was doing, my hips started grinding against his body even as I clung to him, fully clothed. A moan was coming from my throat, but it couldn’t have been me—it was some animalistic desire inside me that this criminal from out of town was awakening.

  “Please,” I sighed as I felt his scruff on my face and his mouth sucking at my neck, “fuck, Jason, I’ve been working this place so long on my own, I need—ahh!” His hand was already up my gown and searching for my breasts.

  “You just need a hand,” he husked, pulling his head away long enough to lock eyes with me. My mouth was agape as I looked at him, and I realized that I couldn’t do anything but give in to the desire that had been coiled up in me so long. I needed this. Now.

  “Fuck me, Jason,” I begged him, my hips still grinding up against him, “I need this. I need you.”