Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #17bySusanJillParker©
The Farmer's Daughter and the Traveling Salesman
In those days with the roads rutted and washed out by the first hard rain, unless expanding their routes and/or enjoying being stuck in the mud, traveling salesmen didn't stray and venture out much further than a few miles past the city limits. There were plenty of farms bunched together near the towns that they didn't have to travel too far for them to sell their wares. Yet, with money in short supply, farmers were a hard sell and salesmen had to travel further out to new territories to make their quotas. While returning to their home base to resupply, whatever was left in their wagons they sold to the city's residents at discount prices. Those who needed goods waited to catch the traveling salesman on the way back while hoping that what they wanted was still on his wagon and at a reduced price.
Based on the motto that if it wasn't broken they didn't need a new one and if it was broken they could fix it, the farmers that lived further away from the city had grown accustomed to being self-dependent and self-reliant. Using the handed down tools that their father's and grandfather's used, they preferred the old, worn things to the new, unproven ones. Anything shiny, fancy, or new fangled wasn't for them. Educated consumers who relied on their commonsense, they weren't much of the shoppers and preferred making the things they needed instead of buying what they didn't have and certainly didn't need.
Farmers traveled to Munich every other month to load their wagons with all the supplies that they needed and that they couldn't make themselves. As if squirrels loading their nests with food for the long, difficult snowy season, so long as they had the money, farmers took two wagons to town to get them through the winter. The only time they changed their routine and made an unscheduled trip to town, was when something broke that they couldn't fix or was when someone was hurt and they needed a doctor. Farmers could fix mostly anything but sometimes even they had to relent, order from the catalog, and wait for months until what they needed was shipped from the factory in Berlin, Frankfurt, or Heidelberg.
A long way from home, Otto's horse slowly pulled his wagon loaded wagon. Careful where to put his spokes, he didn't want to break an axle this far away from town. When he spotted Rachel in the distance, he changed his course and nudged his horse in her direction. Acting oblivious to him, she was outside sweeping the front porch. Only, as soon as she saw his wagon, hoping he'd stop and talk, so lonely that she'd even talk to his horse, a game she played, she ran outside while pretending that she was too busy sweeping to notice him. He continued moving his horse and wagon forward nearly up to the front steps before she turned to acknowledge him and before he began talking to her.
With her long, lush, chestnut hair, rosy cheeks, and shapely figure, having already traveled miles without seeing anyone, no doubt, the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, she was a sight to behold in the morning light. When most women he's seen her age are bursting with a baby on the way and surrounded by a brood of dirty and unruly kids, or are too obese from overeating, by the mere sexy sight of her, she made his jaw drop and his cock harden.
Normally up before the light of dawn, Olga was still upstairs sleeping, after being out in the barn most of the night again. Having gotten a late start, her father and brother were somewhere out in the fields working and wouldn't be home until lunch. If she wanted it, she had hours to be alone with a man she didn't know. For the first time in her life, as if a woman left alone in a shoe store, she was alone with a man she had never met before. Shocking for her to dare talk to him without her father and/or brother there as her escorts and protectors, she was wicked in her desire for a man, any man, even him.
"Hi, how are you?" He climbed down from his wagon. He removed his hat and looked skyward, when she didn't answer. "It's going to be a hot one today. I don't remember a summer this hot," he said looking at all of her as if she was standing there naked.
"Hi," she said resting her hands, her chin, and her opinion of him on the top of her broom handle.
"Is your husband around?"
He drank her all in as if she was a cold beer on a hot day. He looked all around her. Twitchy and fidgety, he appeared dangerously nervous. He appeared overly anxious. He appeared sexually interested.
Having never been with a man when alone before, she was unable to read the signals that she needed to tell him to leave and to be on his way. Only, in the way that he was looking at her, it would take the business end of a shotgun for him to leave. Generally not answering questions, especially personal questions posed from a stranger, she answered him anyway.
"I'm not married," she said looking at him as if he was a potential husband, while wondering if he was married.
He was good looking enough, older than her brother but younger than her father. Wearing his best city clothes, his clothes were different from the dirty overalls her father and brother wore every day. Used to being alone, other than being with her immediate family, it was a real treat to have someone to talk to, especially someone from the big city. Telling her that it's too dangerous for them to take her there, a place she had never been but always wondered about, when her father goes to the city, he goes alone or with her brother. She figured they got drunk and paid whores to sleep with them, probably the reason why they never took her along with them.
"As if my horse was on a mission to take the road least travelled and to put my life in a new direction, it's enchantingly odd how I found myself in close proximity to you. Here alone with you in this vast farmland, a wilderness of plowed fields punctuated with cow pies, occupied by more animals than people, this is a serendipitous meeting, indeed."
Not sure if he was complimenting her, making fun of her, or insulting her, he talked fast and funny with words she didn't always understand their meaning but figured out when he used them in his sentences. Unlike her home schooled father and dimwitted brother, he was educated, cultured, and sophisticated, where she wasn't. They didn't educate women in the way they educated men back then. Yet, regardless of her lack of formal education, she was holding her own in the conversation. Taught by her mother, unlike her brother and her father and unlike most people of the period, as if reading and writing was a secret language available only to the rich, she was able to read, write, and cipher.
Watching his movements and paying attention to his darting eyes, she could tell that he had a rough side to him. No doubt slick, he was as crafty as the fox her father has been trying to catch, before he eats anymore of their chickens. Now that he's here standing in front of her, obviously, this was him and certainly he was the one, the type of man that her father warned her about.
Fast with his mouth, he was probably just as fast with hands and fingers too. It was men like him, men who cheated farmers out of their money, when they paid them cash money for a deposit never to see him again. Wise country folk, as their barometer to someone set out to steal from them, no one but a criminal would stray this far away from the city. It wasn't safe for man, woman, or beast to travel these roads alone, especially in times so desperate after so many men were displaced by machines and out of work.
These were desperate and dangerous times. Carpetbaggers and scallywags littered the countryside preying on hick farmers. Then, in the way that Robin Hood controlled Sherwood Forest with his band of merry men, there were the murderers and thieves that lived in the Black Forest just waiting for someone to travel unescorted through their domain.
Nonetheless, what comes around goes around and even though these dishonest salesmen were intent on stealing from farmers, these were the type of men who were preyed upon too. These were the type of men who suddenly went missing, their pockets emptied and their horse sold and wagon and wares stolen while vultures cleaned their bones of all evidence of them. If she figured him for carrying a gun, she'd be right. Between snakes and varmints, the four legged and two legged kind, everyone carried a gun back then, a pistol, a shotgun, and a rifle.
"Who owns the farm?"
Suspicious of strangers and taught not to volunteer information unless asked and even then taking care what to say and when to say it, even though she was eager to have a conversation, she divulged very little.
"Is he home?"
"Where is he?"
"He's out in the field, but he'll be home any minute," she said lying as her way to protect herself should he mean her any harm.
"This is a big piece of land to be working alone," he said shading his eyes to look out over the acreage before focusing his eyes back on her.
"He's not alone. He's with my brother and their field hands."
He raised his eyebrows, when she said that her father was with their field hands. No farmer made money enough to hire extra help, even during the picking season. Rachel and her mother were all the extra hands her father had. Trained well by a family untrusting of strangers, conversing with Rachel was like pulling teeth from a grizzly bear.
"What time do you think they'll return?"
"There's no telling what time they'll return," she said knowing they wouldn't return until lunch. "Depending on what they run into, they return home unexpectedly at different times every day," she said knowing full well that once they're working the fields, too far to waste their energy traveling back and forth, they only returned home for food.
"I see," he said taking out his handkerchief to wipe across his mouth and brow as if he was a man dying a thirst. He looked around her again, before taking out his pocket watch to check the time. Rachel figured by looking up at where the sun was positioned in the sky that it was barely 9 am and she'd be right about that too. "Do you think that I could get a drink of water?"
"The pump is over there Mister," she said pointing to the side of the house and following him when he started walking to it. "Help yourself."
"And for my horse?"
"There's a trough down by the barn," she said pointing.
He walked over to the pump, pumped it, and filled his hands with water to splash on his face and his neck before scooping some in his hands to drink. There was a ladle hanging there but he didn't use that, preferring instead to use his hands to hold the water.
"Do you know if your father needs anything? I come bearing all kinds of store bought goods. I'd give him a fair deal," he said, while removing the harness from his horse to leave the wagon where it was and to walk the horse to the trough.
"I don't know what my father needs," she said with a shrug of defiance. "Probably he doesn't need anything at all. He and my brother make everything they need."
It was obvious that he was reading her, as much as she was reading him. It was obvious that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
"Being that I'm going down that way to water my horse," he said taking a long look at her again. "Do you think I can have a look in your barn?"
"My father wouldn't want me showing some stranger the inside of his barn," she said with sudden sexual excitement about personally showing him the inside of the barn.
Suddenly, in the way that her brother tied her mother to the horse stall, she imagined this man tying her helplessly and vulnerably there too before stripping her naked to have his wicked way with her. After what happened last night, being forced to stroke and suck her father while he touched her where no father should ever touch his daughter, she was still horny. After what happened the night before, witnessing her mother stripped naked and forced down to her knees to service her brother, while Rachel watched before running to her room to masturbate, she was ready to lose her virginity, that is, so long as he was man enough to take it.
Other than her father and brother, she had never been alone with a man before. She wondered if he was the same type of a man or because he was educated, if he was different from the way that her father and brother behaved towards her and her mother. She wondered if he respected women more. Or she wondered if him wanting to take a peek in the barn was just an excuse to get her alone in the barn.
"Otto, Otto Schmidt," he said offering her his hand.
"Rachel," she said accepting his hand.
"Now we're not strangers anymore, Rachel," he said enthusiastically pumping her hand in the way that he pumped the well. "So how about that tour of the barn?"
"Okay," she said biting her lip with as much trepidation as she had sexual excitement. If her father knew she showed a stranger the barn, she'd be whipped.
They walked to the barn together, after he tied his horse to the trough. Once inside, he walked around looking at this and poking at that. Rachel took her place in front of where her mother is usually tied. With her sweat and blood staining the wood dark, she didn't want him to see that. Only, as soon as she stood there with her back touching where he mother was tied, as if the ties that bound her mother came alive to bind her too, she became nervous, anxious, and sexually aroused.
"I sell dresses, too," he said turning to her and walking closer to her while staring at her. "What size do you take?"
"I don't know. I never bought a store bought dress. I make my own," she said looking down and away from his leering stare.
"Do you think your father would buy you a new dress to make you look--"
"I doubt it, Mister," she said not even allowing him to finish when he talked about her father. "My father doesn't waste his money on clothes and doodads."
"Otto. Call me Otto," he said walking still closer to her. "The color of mahogany in the sunlight, you have beautiful, lush hair," he said reaching out to touch her hair and taking it to his nose to smell it. "With your big, green eyes, green is your color and I have just the dress for you in my wagon," he said running his hand down the side of her.
Feeling the side of her and allowing his hand to fall to her waist before sliding down to her hip, he felt the roundness of her buttocks through her dress. Then he moved his hand to the front of her to ever so slowly. As if he was a pickpocket taking what was valuable to her for himself, he gently cupped her breast through her dress. Wanting to say don't, she didn't. Wanting to move away from his touch, she didn't move. Wanting to run screaming from the barn to the house, she stayed in place, while looking down at his hand before looking up at him.
Then, when he fingered her nipple that suddenly made an impression thought her dress, he leaned in to kiss her while still fondling her breast. Having never been kissed before by someone, other than her father and brother, she allowed him to part her mouth with his tongue. Even with her father and brother trying to kiss her while groping her, they were more interested in touching and feeling her than kissing her. Nonetheless the incestuous lust that her father and brother had for her, always able to squirm away from their grasp, she had never truly kissed a man before with a long, wet kiss in the way she was doing now. While alone in her room and touching herself, she often fantasized about a man kissing and touching her and now here it was happening to her as if she was sexually fantasizing about it.
While kissing her and feeling her breast with his other hand, he took her hand by her wrist and pulled it down to him. Shocked enough to withdraw her hand from his exposed cock, she was stunned when she felt warm, hard skin. She looked down at him and his erect prick was already out of his pants. How did he do that? When did he do that?
Sexually aroused by the sight of his engorged prick, mindlessly, she stared at his cock, while he unbuttoned her dress. Once exposing her big breasts, fingering, pulling, and tugging at her nipples, his hand was feeling her breast through her camisole before moving that out of the way too. Again, this was the first time she was topless in front of a man who wasn't her father and brother. She remembered the sexy bathtub show she gave her father and brother last night and here she was now giving an encore presentation to a stranger.
"I'm a virgin Otto," she whispered in his ear as if saying no but giving him the go ahead to continue. "My father would not be happy if you ruined me for the man he wants me to marry."
Nonetheless her warning that she was a virgin and by the threat of the unhappiness of her father, even though she said no, her lips said yes while her hand never let go of his cock. Stroking and stroking him, she couldn't wait to feel him inside of her.
"That's okay," he said with a laugh. "I'll be gentle. Stroke me faster. Make me harder," he said pulling her hand with his while wrapping her fingers tighter around his cock.
Already possessing a strong grip from milking, in the way she had masturbated her father last night, as if she was milking Thelma, Hilda, or Emma, their milking cows, she wrapped her fingers more forcefully around his cock. Other then the sexual excitement her father had for her, she had never felt the sexual excitement of a man before and now she was feeling this stranger's sexual excitement for her now. She was enjoying masturbating him while he played with her big tits, fingered her erect nipples, and French kissed her.
For the first time in her life, she felt wanted. She felt desired. For the first time in her life, she felt important. She felt empowered. No doubt, she obviously wanted him as much as he wanted her. Had she known that all it would take was to have sex to not only make her feel like a woman but also like a person and an equal in a man's world, she would have had sex long ago.
"It's so hard," she said looking down at his cock again.
"Stroke me faster," he said moving her hand faster with his. "It gets bigger and harder, when you stroke me faster."
She stroked him while looking down at his erection. Something that she fantasized only doing to do with her father and her brother, she was afraid to touch them for fear that they'd take her to the barn, she was now doing with a stranger. Only, feeling safer with a stranger than she did with her own men folk, feeling safely in control of him, she felt safe with this man.
No doubt, an educated man, he'd never tie her to the stall. He'd never beat her. He'd never whip her. He'd never rape her. Yet, nonetheless what he wouldn't do to her, he was still about to have his wicked way with her.
"It's getting bigger and harder," she said stroking him faster as if she was playing a game with a pull toy.
"Relax," he said. "Not too fast," he said pushing on her shoulder with one hand, while going inside her dress to cup her breast and finger her nipple with the other.
With a gentle hand, he pushed down on her shoulder and Rachel fell to her knees. She stared at his cock before looking up at him. She smiled at what she was about to do.
"Do you want me to suck you Mister?"
"Otto," he said. "Call me Otto. You should at least know my name, especially if I'm the first man you'll suck."
"You're not the first man I've sucked," she said unembarrassed while looking up at him before looking down at his cock again. Taking his cock in her hand again, she slowly albeit firmly stroked him. "I sucked my father last night, not willingly, but I sucked him nonetheless, while my brother watched through the kitchen window. He forced me to suck him," she said. "If my brother only knew that I was sucking you now, he'd want me to suck him too."