Down on the Farm

I wondered if what she was doing was entirely subjective, or did she fantasise that she was with someone? Who was it?

As she struggled with her sexual demon, I fought with mine, relieving myself with my hand. As I spurted my semen, I was quite clear who my fantasy was. It was mother, but I did not use that title as my juices pumped out, but said under my breath, "Leah, Leah, Leah." She was no longer "Mother" but had been transformed into the object of my love and lust, and that object was eating away at me.

During the day, I had much to consume my time and energy. I was still trying to straighten out our accounts, value the stock and had begun work on some of our run down equipment. Yet Leah had only to walk into the office, or if I was working outside she only had to appear on the house verandah, for my passion to flame.

It was the evenings that brought me the most torment. We would often sit reading or listening to music. In hot weather, Leah would wear a simple, loose fitting garment. I felt certain she was naked beneath it, and at times thought I caught a glimpse of pubic hair if the garment rose up a little.

To make matters worse, she liked me to sit beside her on the couch. Mostly we sat in silence listening to the music or reading, but occasionally Leah would become animated, and touch me and pull herself against me as she talked. As my hot weather clothing was only a pair of shorts, this physical contact was agonising delight.

It was now months since I had had sex with a woman, and to use Leah's word, my "deprivation" was very intense. One evening, the seething sexual boiler that was I, exploded. Leah was leaning against me talking. I had a massive erection that she surely must have noticed. There was a strange buzzing noise in my head, and suddenly I kissed her.

It was not the polite kiss of an affectionate son, but a kiss that sought the entry of a tongue. Almost as soon as I had committed the deed, I pulled back. Leah moved away from me slightly, staring at me, then said quietly:

"That was very nice darling. Do it again, only longer."

It was my turn to stare, but Leah took the initiative. She leaned towards me, closing her eyes, and pressed soft moist lips on mine, her tongue probing for entry to my mouth. I opened my lips and she thrust in, searching every nook and cranny. Her body strained against me, and my hand reached for her breast. Through the cloth it felt firm and warm and the nipples, as I touched them were erect and hard.

Leah broke away from the kiss and leaned away from me a little. "I know, darling. I've known for some time. I was only waiting for you to make a move. It's all right, just take me my love."

She stood and pulled her garment over her head and dropped it on the floor. She unfastened my shorts and I stood to let them join her attire.

This was the first time I had ever had a full view of her naked body, except for the bedroom scene, when she was partially obscured from me. Her slender body was leaning towards me, her breasts touching my chest. She thrust her belly against me so my shaft went between her legs, and she began rotating her hips.

Speaking the same words over and over again, "Take me my love, take me," she slowly sank back on the couch, her legs open wide, her beautiful womanhood open and ready to receive me.

I held back. Before penetration there was something that I wanted to do, something that in my fantasies I had longed for. I knelt on the floor before her, drawing her vagina to my mouth. At last I could seek her entrance with my tongue – suck her clitoris, breathe in her female aroma and taste her woman's juices.

It was sweeter than even my fantasies had depicted. Had this been the only thing she allowed me to do to her, I think it would have been enough. I could have gone on and on inhaling and savouring her lovely femaleness, but she began to beg me to penetrate her, so I came over her and slipped into her warm, wet opening.

She flexed her vaginal muscle, gripping me as if she would never release me again. She spoke constantly: "I love you, Roger, I love you. Make me complete again, make me a whole woman."

I silenced her with a long kiss as I caressed her breasts and moved up and down in her. It was sex as I had never known it before. It was sex born of deep love, the perfecting of two people; the making whole of two beings long separated. This was union, a coming home after so long away.

I felt her orgasm approaching and broke away from the kiss to allow her free vocal rein. The cries began just as I had heard them that day in the bedroom. They built up into crescendo as she moved with me in the rapidly increasing rhythm of our loving.

Suddenly she convulsed, clinging to me with the cries now changed to "oh, oh, oh." Then with a shriek of delicious agony she gave forth with her long "Aaah."

At this point, I fired into her. I had never ejected so much semen and I swear it would have shot six feet if I had not been inside her.

She was still shaking with the after shocks of her orgasm, and now she spoke in her low tone: "Kill me darling…Spear me to the heart…Fertilise me…Give me a baby…Give me your baby…darling…"

No other woman had ever spoken such words to me, and I knew that I would not want to hear them from any other woman. This was the one I wanted to speak such words of power to me – such signs of love and passion.

As the last spurt of sperm left me, I said something that rationally is ridiculous: "I love you Leah, marry me."

She responded, "I just have, my love."

Foolish talk? Yes, but with a powerful meaning behind it. We had both declared that this was not a one-off or short-term attachment. It was permanent.

As I withdrew from her, Leah clamped one hand over her vagina. I must have looked at this quizzically because she smiled at me and said, "I'm holding you in me, or at least, part of you. I want it there as long as possible."

I returned her smile and said, "Leah, I shall want to be replacing that fairly soon."

We both laughed and Leah replied, "All right, darling, but after the amount you put into me, you can clean the mess."

She removed her hand, and as she predicted, sperm came pouring out of her onto the couch. I could barely believe the amount I had produced, and already I was feeling like pressing more into her.

"Right," she laughed, "You clean up and I'll go and take a shower."

"No you won't," I chuckled, "you'll wait for me. I've got to clean you too."

I dutifully cleaned the couch and then we went off to shower. I carefully washed her genitals commenting, "I hope this washing won't mean I can't smell or taste you properly next time."

"You're greedy," she said. "You tasted me last time, now it's my turn to taste you, and you can put that lovely sperm into my mouth. If I can swallow it, you won't have to clean up again.

She was as good as her word. We went to her bed, which I have occupied with her ever since. She approached the oral sex very slowly, first kissing my mouth, then working her way down my body. She fondled my shaft for a long time, looking at it, kissing it lovingly, then began by taking the crown into her mouth.

She must have tasted my pre-cum because she looked up at me and said, "Mmm, salty but nice," then worked her way down my shaft her warm wet mouth sliding back and forth.

I wanted it to last, so I fought back my urge to come, but as her sucking grew fiercer, I surrendered. Born of a frustration long endured, the long wait after I had first realised my desire for her, I shot another big load. Leah bravely swallowed it, and as I ended, sucked harder to extract the last tiny drop.

As she came away from my penis, she looked like the cat that had found the cream. My juice was oozing from the corners of her mouth, and she came over me, saying, "You made me taste myself, now you taste yourself," and kissed me, dribbling some of my semen into my mouth.

I knew then that not only was there a firm bond between us, but that I could and would, perform any sexual act she desired. The thought flashed across my mind, "Is this why father ceased having sex with her, he couldn't cope with her requirements?" I have never put the question to Leah and never will, but as a lover, she is very demanding both in quantity and quality. If my father found this too overpowering, I simply say, "Lucky me."

In ancient times and in some cultures, it was believed that minor gods, the Baals, lived in the soil beneath trees and plants. It was thought necessary to encourage these gods in their work of fertilising the trees and crops, so people went out into the fields and groves and had sex. This was thought to get the Baals doing their sexual job and thus bringing on a good harvest.

I do not subscribe to this view, but it is amusing to note that from the time Leah and I came together in sexual love, our business prospects took an upward turn. World prices for our beef went steadily up. Our cattle seemed to be bent on reproducing the species. Amos came to hold the title "Station Manager," and very slowly we dragged ourselves out of the mire of debt, and the place began to take on some its old look of prosperity.

It had been my desire to be an artist. When faced with trying to get the station back on track, I thought my hope for entering the art world was at an end. Then as my love for Leah flourished, and although in her mid-forties, she announced that she was pregnant, I found the subjects for my paintings. I began to see the beauty in this arid land with its long vistas to distant hills, sun burnt earth and the carpet of flowers after rare rainfall.

The Hill is almost overcrowded with art galleries, and as I began work on my chosen subjects, I displayed in these galleries. Much to my amazement, my work began to sell faster than I could paint.

Amos and Bathsheba were clearly puzzled by Leah's pregnancy. Who was the father? They never asked and we never told, but I think that by now they have worked it out.

As an after thought: I was reading an article in a magazine recently. It told how young men are now seeking older women as their sex partners. If it's any help, let me say I thoroughly recommend it.