‘Let me just check you over, then, once more just to be safe, before I escort you from the premises,’ said the farmer, sounding suspiciously like he had an ulterior motive.
‘I think you’d better,’ she agreed, suddenly realising this was an open invitation for this rough-looking stranger to continue touching her.
His hands came back to her shoulders, and he started to massage the bones so that she was forced to relax.
‘So you don’t mind?’ he asked.
Her neck went limp. She ought to stand up; she ought to leave. But she was glad his hands had come back. She wanted them to move down her body. He was promising, not threatening, and he was only inches away. She gave a shiver of impatience. Maybe whatever he was promising, punishment perhaps, was the one thing that would knock this confusion out of her. Sally would say that all Janie needed was a damn good rogering. That was her remedy for everything. But that was hardly a punishment, was it? More of a reward.
One of the farmer’s fingers hooked under her collar and started to stroke the white skin beneath. There was something exquisite in the way that solitary finger finding its way under her shirt made Janie feel totally naked. The tiny spot that he caressed sent sexual messages throughout her entire body. Already the backs of her knees were buzzing, and a tiny pulse had started up in the one corner of her groin which hadn’t already been twitching. Her sensitive breasts tightened and started to swell, rising up like dough, as if offering themselves on a plate. Her nipples now screeched to be seen as they hardened and poked against the cloth of her damp shirt.
Something rustled over by the door. Janie heard the shovel scrape slightly and the door rattle as if the handle was being tried. She stiffened and turned her head to listen.
‘It’s the wind,’ said the farmer, turning Janie’s head back to face him. ‘We’re quite alone.’
He held her chin in one hand, and took his glasses off with the other, folding them and tossing them on top of his jacket. His eyes looked even darker without their disguise, his face younger but even more determined.
‘Some horrible animal, more like, about to attack us,’ said Janie. ‘One of those big cats one reads about.’
‘Not on my farm.’
Janie felt she was chickening out again. He had referred to her as ‘luscious’, for goodness sake. Surely it was worth being a little bolder, just this once. ‘Before I go …’ she hesitated, ‘perhaps you could … check that cut once more? I’m starting to feel a little dizzy again.’
‘Look,’ he said, touching her forehead again. ‘The blood has dried.’
She tried to put her hand up to the cut, but he took hold of her wrist.
‘Does it still hurt?’ he asked.
She hesitated, but only for a second. Her game of seduction had begun.
‘Yes. Here,’ she said, bending her neck so that more of her shoulder was exposed. He flicked her hair away and touched her neck. She bit her lip, undid a button and pulled at the shirt again. Her head was spinning with this new daring. There could be no mistaking the signals she was giving out.
‘And here.’
He pushed her shirt further down her shoulder and traced the ridge of her collarbone, treading his fingertips across the exposed skin and under the shirt again, threatening, no, promising, to creep down towards her breasts. Janie’s breath was coming in uneven gasps of longing.
His features became blurred and fused in front of her. She closed her eyes, letting her head droop backwards as the soft caresses lulled her. There was some scuffling in the straw as she started to slide forwards off the hay bale, while at the same time he came closer, and their legs collided. He bent towards her shoulder and she could feel his breath hot on her skin. She moved her head round to meet him until their mouths met. They both waited, mouths barely touching. Her breath stopped totally then. She couldn’t move away. Her lips softened and parted, but he didn’t respond. She started to breathe into his mouth. She slid her hands round and up his back, and felt a quiver run down between his shoulderblades. Her hands pressed harder against him. She was as desperate to touch as to be touched. She flicked the tip of her tongue against his teeth, and then around the inside of his lips; he tasted of tobacco and coffee, masculine, salty, sweet, wet, warm. She pushed her tongue further in, waiting for him to rebuff her, but now his lips closed around it, trapping it, sucking it in between his teeth, so that her face was moulded into his and her breasts and body were pressed against the length of him.
This was why she had come out in the rain, fizzing and burning with unresolved longing. She had needed to walk out into the fresh air, in search of some kind of relief, and here it was, in the big warm shape of a strange farmer, and they were kissing in this barn like teenagers. Janie willed the stranger to carry on kissing her, sucking her tongue. It was like setting a taper to a candle; she was smouldering from her feet upwards.
‘What am I doing?’ he groaned, his mouth sliding sideways. ‘I only meant to bring you out of the rain, I only meant to look at you, then send you on your way. Tell me to stop, and I’ll –’
‘Don’t stop. Don’t dare stop,’ she hissed, nuzzling against his mouth. ‘It’s been too long, and it’s only a kiss. We’re adults, and we’re enjoying it. Pretend it’s your droit de seigneur if it makes you feel better.’
He rubbed his lips across hers. ‘It does. Though I’m not exactly the Lord of the Manor, and you’re not exactly Little Bo-Peep. I mean, look at you.’
‘I’m not Bo-Peep, I’m a brazen hussy, caught stealing by the master.’ Janie grinned. ‘You have to touch me, and see.’
They were enclosed in the darkness. Everything suddenly felt wicked and dangerous. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to find her way out of the rickety barn even if she wanted to. His face was a pale oval in front of her. Hers must look the same to him, thought Janie, especially as he had taken off his glasses. There was no point wasting time staring at each other in the dark. When he didn’t reply, or move, she wriggled backwards onto the hay bale and lay down. He remained kneeling, so she reached up and pulled him down on top of her. He hesitated, then let himself sink down. He took her arms, and held them above her head. The hay tickled and dug through her shirt, so she raised her spine off the bale to escape the prickles. Her breasts arched towards him in an open invitation.
He gazed down at her, silently biting his lips. His nostrils were flared with the effort of trying to breathe calmly. He was straddling her now, heavy on her legs. One hand held her arms down while the other started to massage her shoulder where it had left off before, then, at last, it moved down her chest in a slow circle to reach and take hold of one of her breasts. He rubbed his hand under her arm and down the side of the soft mound, pushing it into the centre and letting it fall back again, feeling its weight against the palm of his hand. Janie’s breath came in shallow gasps as she lay there, taut with anticipation. She feared that if she breathed out he would vanish in a puff of smoke. She tried to spread her legs a little to ease the excruciating delight building up inside her. He shifted his buttocks and pressed down on her, still pinning her down. Through the thin material of her trousers she could feel the thick outline of his cock contained within his blue jeans. It jutted right up inside her thigh, nudging against the cleft of her pussy, but for now she wanted to concentrate on the circling motions of his hand, fingers digging into the malleable flesh of her breast, increasing in strength and tempo as their joint breathing grew heavier.
‘I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to,’ he murmured. ‘Your breasts. They’re so juicy, so welcoming. A real woman’s shape. I always wondered how they would feel.’
She strained upwards to catch what he was saying, but again she heard the door rattling in the wind. It was warm and quiet in the barn, and she had forgotten the storm. The air rushed through the crack in the door like hushed voices.
‘Go on, feel me, feel how big they are,’ whispered Janie, feeling suddenly bold. She pulled his other hand over her neglected breast a
nd arched her back so that everything was thrust towards him. He rubbed the palms of his hands in widening circles, over the top of her shirt, letting the fabric join with his fingers in massaging her flesh then, pushing the tits together roughly, he gathered them up in his hands, so that they billowed over the edges. His strong farmer’s grip crushed them in his fists so that the pain radiated into pleasure. He kneaded them roughly, then drew his thumbs back and forth, flicking across the distinct points of her nipples so that they stood up more stiffly beneath the loose shirt. Pangs of desire shot through her. The memories of pleasures past were dim, but slowly they were returning.
She moaned out loud before she could stop herself. It was like being woken from a deep sleep. Sally would probably say it was just like getting back on a bicycle. Janie tossed her head from side to side to get Sally out of her head and to get back to the pleasure starting to overwhelm her. She wanted to lift her shirt up, show him her bare white tits with their raspberry-red nipples, ripe for sucking, but he had hold of her arms and, anyway, he was intent on balancing and feeling her tits as they were, hidden under her shirt. The greed and excitement in his face was infecting her. She became frantic, wriggling and twisting underneath him. She wrenched her hands free from his and took hold of his hips, pulling him up a little so that she could unbuckle his belt. He was still wearing his T-shirt and her shirt was still buttoned up, but there was no need to undress, and no time.
His mouth was open now, too far away for her to kiss it again. He was breathing harshly and she panted wildly as she stretched herself under his hands and tore at his jeans. However out of practice she may be, and however much Sally may have mocked, here she was, spread out beneath a gorgeous stranger practically in the open air. This was what Janie had been missing. She wasn’t interested in the luxury of waiting, she wanted to find the length of this man’s stiffened cock, hold it in her hand, discover what the feel of her body was doing to him, how hard it was making him. She needed to feel him inside her. It was time. Now.
A draught whipped across her face, cold on the patch of stomach exposed by the rucking up of her shirt. Janie heard a cough, or a snort, somewhere nearby. There was no mistaking it. She couldn’t decipher what or where it was. The old barn seemed to have inhabitants of its own. The wind whistled across the rafters in short gusts that sounded like laughter. The stormy weather was hurrying her, and across the field Sally was waiting in the cottage.
Sod Sally for intruding, and sod the creeping sensation she suddenly had, of being watched. The farmer’s jeans were undone now, and Janie reached down to find his cock, but he grabbed her wrists and forced them back over her head, pinning her down with one hand while he drew his cock out of his jeans himself. It seemed he liked being in control. He let it nudge in between her legs then yanked her trousers and knickers down. The hay scratched into the crack of her bare bum as she wound her legs round his hips, straining her groin up against his, unable to wrestle her hands out of his grip. She wouldn’t stop writhing until she felt his stiffness sliding its way inside her.
Now something really was shifting about in the corner of her eye. She flung her head towards the door. One, maybe two heads, two pairs of eyes, were framed, totally still, just inside the doorway. She couldn’t make out if they were young or old, male or female, as the fading light was behind them and it was almost pitch-dark in the barn. The only line of light was the one that travelled from the door, placing the writhing pair on the hay bale right in the spotlight.
She struggled beneath him for a moment, squealing to get his attention and dropping her legs down. They had to stop. Someone was going to march right in and catch them. There was nowhere to hide.
‘Look there, someone’s there, someone coming,’ she croaked at him. She was torn, distracted, but exhilarated by the fear of discovery. It was like doing it behind the bike sheds, or in the park. The farm had always spooked her whenever she went exploring there, but that was part of the fun, and never had the scariness of it actually turned her on before. Then again, never before had she laid down in the barn to be fucked by the farmer. Not even Sally could muster a fantasy involving cross-eyed Maddock.
Her farmer glanced in the direction of the doorway as well, but he didn’t flinch. His eyes were glazed with desire. ‘Nothing there,’ he said. ‘You don’t want to stop, do you? ‘Cause I don’t, and I’m not going to.’ He shook his head at her, grinned slowly, and stretched himself over her again, one hand still kneading her breasts, pushing them roughly together, feeling them give under the palm of his hand.
An explosive rush of excitement spurted through her, crazy and hot. She was past caring if there was really someone there. She was probably imagining it in the craziness of the moment. In any case, the thought of someone watching them, riveted to the spot, breathing hard and clutching themselves as they watched the two indistinct figures screwing, was suddenly intoxicating. She was going mad. She kept her head turned towards the doorway, challenging her invisible spectators.
‘Watch me, then,’ she hissed at the invisible audience, flinging her head back. ‘Go on, watch us, fucking here in the barn like animals.’
‘Stop rabbiting, wench,’ he breathed hoarsely. Her thighs came up again to grip his and she pulled him towards her. Her words were stopped by her own moan of pleasure as he started to run his cock up the soft skin of her inner thighs, its blunt head nudging towards her cunt like a heat-seeking missile. He guided it through her swollen wet lips and burrowed in between them, parting them to make way. She wriggled his cock deeper and deeper inside her, clinging with her inner muscles to take in its delicious length. No niceties, no teasing, just on and on and up and faster. As its length slid past her clit she felt her desire grow to bursting point, ready to shatter and melt her, stoked up by the afternoon’s frustration.
He pulled back for a tantalising moment, running the head of his cock round Janie’s tender groove. Her moans subsided, then, with a monumental jerk of his groin, he forced the whole stiff length of his cock into her until his balls banged against her splayed buttocks. He pulled his hips back until the length of his cock was nearly out, groaned with the effort of pausing, then thrust the meaty shaft in deep again and again so that Janie heard herself shriek with pleasure. He shuddered out towards his rapid climax, ready to shoot his load into her, and she wondered if he, too, was releasing months or years of frustration into her willing body.
The eyes gleamed in the doorway as the voyeurs watched, and Janie knew what they could see: a man’s body flexed over a woman’s, humping on the hay bales, both semi-clothed, blue T-shirt, red linen shirt with arms outstretched, only the pale curve of the man’s buttocks visible where he had yanked his jeans down enough to get his cock out. In the gloom they would not be able to see the muscles tighten in his arse, but they would make out the thrust of his groin as he drew his hips back and pounded forwards between the woman’s parted legs. They would be able to see her scraping with each thrust up the hay bale beneath him, hair tangling in the straw. They would be able to see the man and the woman rutting. They would be able to hear the whispering and the moaning.
His body was welded to hers now. One of his hands still clutched her breast as if it was a buoy, but the other released her wrists and spread out to support the small of her back, lifting her body right off the hay as her thighs clamped round his waist. Cold air tickled her spine where her shirt fell away. Her pleasure peaked with the sudden reminder of the outside world, and darts of desire chased her on towards another, higher point of climax. Sharp animal groans escaped from between her gritted teeth. In response he thrust into her with his own gathering shout of triumph. He crushed her as he slammed into her one last time, the bale slithering across the floor, scraping her back across the sharp sticks of hay until the insistent pricks of pain jabbing into her skin finally pierced the bubble of lust and burst it open, drowning all her senses in a warm flood.
Finally Janie’s body shuddered to a halt. She let her arms and legs flop sideways
and took his weight as he rested on top of her for a moment. He raised himself up on his elbows and heaved himself off the hay bale. Her limbs were heavy as she slowly drew her knees up to her chest. The warmth of her satisfaction was ebbing away, she was getting cold, and her skin itched from the bed of hay.
‘How could I have done without it all this time?’ she murmured to herself, watching the sinews ripple in his back as he scrabbled in the straw for his glasses.
He glanced back at her, and Janie realised he hadn’t been able to see a thing without his spectacles. Now his eyes were direct and focused again, and he had obviously heard her remark.
‘What a way to put a seal on this place,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for years.’
‘What do you mean?’ She hadn’t the energy yet to sit up. ‘You’ve wanted to do that for years?’
‘I mean I’ve wanted to catch a beautiful thief stealing logs on my property, just so that I could take her prisoner in my barn, and punish her by shagging her across one of my hay bales.’
‘So you do fancy yourself as the Lord of the Manor after all.’
The farmer started to speak, but then they both jumped as the door banged against the shovel he had propped there, knocking it over with a clatter. Unmistakable footsteps splashed away through the puddles outside. They heard a burst of coarse male laughter, and then a moped started up, bumped over the sodden ground, and buzzed away up the track.
‘I was right. I tried to tell you! Those eyes at the door. They were watching us!’
There was a knot of horror mixed with surprised laughter lurking in Janie’s chest and she hugged her knees closer, trying to hold fast the intensity of the past few moments. Then reluctantly she shuffled back into her damp knickers and trousers.
‘Does that bother you?’ he asked, helping her to her feet and walking her towards the door. They both peered round the murky yard. There was nobody else there. ‘Didn’t ruin what happened just then, did it?’
Country Pleasures Page 6
