I'd like to thank my editor, Rip_isback, for his expert editing and advice.
I had just gotten home from work; I had a hellacious day at the office. I walked in the house and see my wife Robbin working at the kitchen table. "That's it!" I exclaimed. "I'm so sick of dealing with this shit. That fuckwad Marvin is busting my balls again over the latest production slip. That shit-for-brains doesn't care one iota about quality. He'll ship broken crap to the market, just to get his god damned bonus."
"Then quit John," Robbin stated without looking up from her tablet; she was reviewing the latest sales figures for the sales division she headed up.
"Thanks, that helps...," I said throwing my laptop case down on the kitchen table.
"In fact, let's both quit," she continued, a serious tone had settled now into her voice. "I'm sick of my job too; the thrill is gone." She looks up at me with a complete dead pan expression.
"Oh come on; we can't quit. For Christ sakes; what the fuck will we do?"
Robbin and I had worked for "Corporate America" for 20 years. We both had done well for ourselves, and we climbed fairly high on the corporate ladder. We had no children; DINKs as they called our slot in the socioeconomic scale. We weren't rich, but we managed to save and invest enough that the thought of bailing on our high paying jobs was something we could consider. These jobs were killing us; we use to have fun when we were young and free spirited, but now it's all work. And for what? Another fucking dollar?
"Seriously, we have enough to live on for a while and our retirement fund is all set as long as we don't raid it. We can take low key jobs, or start our own business. If we watch our spending we'll be fine," she said while continuing to review the work she had brought home.
"I'd love to; don't tempt me," I cried out.
Robbin had been getting increasingly frustrated with her job also. She used to love being head of the east coast division; that position gave her a lot of self worth. Coming from a poor farming family her accomplishments meant a lot to her. I've seen the stress take a toll on her though; as it has on me I suppose.
We met at the work. We were both new hires right out of college 20 years ago. We used to have a lot of fun when we first got together. We were swingers for a while and loved meeting and fucking new people. When we were young and care free, we didn't care if we had gotten fired, we lived it up.
We were both put on the fast track. Once the promotions start coming and we attained a certain level, then the money was serious enough to make us consider our actions. We purchased a big house and fancy cars; all the trimmings of success. We now had a life style to protect. We stopped swinging because we were suddenly afraid of someone in our company finding out; we could have lost everything if our swinging ways became public knowledge at work.
Making money and keeping up with the Joneses was all we had cared about; well almost all we had cared about, we did try for a while to make a family. After a year of failed attempts to get pregnant, my wife and I went to a fertility clinic and Robbin was diagnosed as the infertile one. At first this news depressed her. I was disappointed, but supported Robbin and tried my best to cheer her up. Robbin didn't want to hear anything about adoption, so I just tried to be the compassionate husband. The depression soon passed and we both buried ourselves in our work and forgot about having any kids of our own.
"Start our own business! What business would we start?" I said with a biting tone.
"Why not a farm? We've inherited my father's farm, it's just sitting there," Robbin seriously replied.
It's true; we had a farm upstate that was basically just sitting there. We rented the north end fields and paid someone to watch the place and mow around the house and barns; but otherwise it was just sitting idle. The rent didn't make us any extra money; it was just enough to pay for the taxes and the rest of the upkeep on the place.
"A farm is a ton of work Robbin. You want to start farming in your 40's? Are you nuts?"
"The farm pays for itself already with the rent we get for the northern lots. We can screw around with something small in the fields around the barns, maybe an organic farm. We can sell this house, and move into the farm house; that alone will make us enough money so we can retire early. We can sell some vegetables for pocket change."
"It sounds like you've been thinking a lot about this," I said a little surprised since this is the first I've heard of Robbin's ideas for the farm.
"Well...tell me you don't dream of dumping the rat race?" she said while looking at the charts on her tablet.
My wheels started spinning by this time. Robbin was right; if we sold our too big-for-us-anyway house, and moved into the farm house, we could live rent free. I still wasn't sure about the farming though; that seemed like too much work.
"The farm is in a college town remember John, the standard of living is pretty high around Slatesville. There are plenty of liberals up there, they're all over that locally produced organic shit. We'll have no trouble selling local organic produce; maybe we'll grow some flowers too." Robbin continued as she kept her head down, still reading the sales figures she was reviewing.
"It still sounds like a lot of work," I protested.
"Think small. Look, we won't need the farm to be making a fortune, we can hire help. We wouldn't starve if we fail to make a killing. As long as we're not losing money and having fun, what do we have to lose? Remember when we use to have fun John? Remember when we fucked around; when we were swingers? I long for those freewheeling days," she said now looking directly at me. I could see it in her eyes; she was serious about this.
"You want to start a farm and start swinging again? What does one thing have to do with the other?"
"Nothing, and yet everything. Can't you see? We have been in this bullshit rut for too long. The only fun I have anymore is in my dreams. We are so busy, we don't even watch porn anymore. Remember when we would pop in an X-rated movie, get high and fuck our brains out; at least we still did that for a while after we stopped swinging. Now we barely fuck -- its wham-bam anymore; we're both too tired to do much else."
There was a big pause in the conversation as I was processing what Robbin just said.
"Look John, we're not getting any younger, I say we give this idea some serious thought. We're both in our mid 40's. We're both in good shape and look about 10 years younger than we are. The stress of our jobs is starting to take a toll on us. How many more years do we have before old age creeps in? I want to swing again before my breasts start sagging. Can you imagine us swinging when we are in our 60's? We gotta change our lives now."
Robbin was right, well at least about her, she was still hot looking and looked to be about 10 years younger than someone in their mid 40s. Her auburn hair had not grayed at all yet and she didn't dye it. She worked out at the gym 4 days a week, her body was still athletic and toned. I still loved looking at her pretty face with blue eyes and lightly freckled complexion.
Robbin had made her point. The fact that she had brought up our pathetic sex lives, and the suggestion that she wanted to get back to our wilder days, really got me thinking. In fact, the more I thought back to the old wild days the more excited I got. My mind drifted as I recalled a particular hot weekend orgy at my friends Steve's house. I fucked so many new women that day, it was an all time record, six as I recalled. I started thinking of this one hot brunette that really got me jacked up. My cock stirred as I let the memories or that brunette flood my mind, and soon my cock was hard as a rock.
I ripped off my cloths right there in the kitchen where Robbin and I were discussing our wrecked lives.
Robbin's eyes were as big as saucers as I turned and faced her with my cock as hard as granite.
"All this talk of chucking the grind and getting back to our roots has me hornier than I've been in years. I need to fuck now, get out of your clothes -- please," I pleaded.
Robbin must have been sexually charged by the conversation too. She wasted no time stripping and clamping her mouth around my cock. I reached for her twat and it was dripping. We fucked like we were in our twenties again; it was glorious.
The next day I sent in my resignation.
"I did it. I resigned." I sent a text to Robbin.
"No way!" she yelled in my ear when I answered my cell. "Are you serious? I thought we were going to think about it? This is a big step!"
"I did think about it, for all of five minutes after I got to the office, that's all it took. That fuckwad Marvin was in my shit first thing this morning. You're right, our retirement is funded and we have enough invested to last a number of years if we're frugal. If we sell the house, we can use the money to start some small business at your father's old farm."
And so, Robbin and I started a new chapter. We sold the house, the BMW, the Volvo and purchased a Chevy pickup truck. We traded in the yuppie lifestyle for a farm lifestyle. We sold everything from our former lives; our furniture, our boat, skis, and even most of our clothes -- no need for suits on a farm.
It was late March by the time we got everything sold and packed what we didn't sell for the move to the farm.
Robbin was excited, she said, "I can't wait to get started. It's early enough in the season that we'll be able to get a jump on getting the farm ready for planting."
During the ride in the new pickup to the farm Robbin brought up a delicate subject. "That day in the kitchen, when we first talked about chucking it all in, we both brought up our former sex lives. When we were younger and did some swinging. We both alluded to how we miss the old days."
"Yes. I hope you're not going to tell me you didn't mean that part. Tell me you're not going to renege on that."
"Would it make a difference?" Robbin asked.
"Well, you know I love you and want only to be with you. And we use to have a great sex life, even after the wild swinging days, until we let work get in the way of it. I have no doubt we can get back to a great sex life just between the two of us. That said, I do miss having sex with other people. Just sex mind you, nothing emotional, strictly sport sex. I wouldn't mind doing some of that again before we get too old."
"I feel the same way," Robbin added. "It has just been so long, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about doing it again with someone other than you."
"You know how you use to like to eat another girl's pussy during the orgies we attended? Well, in case you haven't noticed, I don't have a pussy," I said half jokingly, half attempting to sway her with her own lust. Robbin was a bisexual true and true. I knew she hadn't been with another woman since the last time we swung with Bill and Kathy, our favorite swinging couple from years ago. Robbin loved cock as much as the next girl, but she had a soft spot for pussy. Kathy and Robbin could be found in a 69 just about any time Bill and I weren't fucking either one of them.
"Yeah, I miss that." she said staring out the truck window. "I almost did it with a girl at work. You know her, Darlene from marketing. I really thought about asking you if it would be ok, but you always seemed too stressed out, so I just buried my feelings within my work."
"Darlene, ah?" I said. "I wouldn't have minded, especially if you brought her home, we could have both done her."
"I bet you would have loved to have buried your cock in her; she has some body, that one."
We sat in silence for while, just the road noise and some god damn country music Robbin put on. I guess I better get used to country music, being as we are heading to the country to a farm.
"I think we should...try swinging again that is, or something," Robbin finally blurted out.
"What do mean by 'something'?" I asked curiously.
"Well, I'm not sure of the swinging opportunities up in Slatesville. I mean, it's a fairly sophisticated liberal town, there are two colleges and a couple of international businesses have offices located up there. It's within easy driving distance of the city so you have weekenders. But I just don't know; we never looked up there for swingers in the old days."
"And why would we have, we only went up there to visit your family," I added.
"Exactly," she said. "Well there may not be swingers, but I'm sure we can find something to entertain us," she said as she smiled lustfully.
"Maybe we can get some college girls to work the farm during the summer," I added with a grin.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Some eighteen or nineteen year old pussy to fuck. I don't know...how about an old itinerant farm hand's wife?" she laughed. "That's about all I think I'll let you do." she busted up laughing.
"Fine, you'll have to eat the old farm hand's wife out too then," I added coldly, but with a smile.
"Maybe college girls aren't such a bad idea," she said as she stared out the truck window. Robbin's hand had slid down between her legs and she was lightly circling her clit through her pants with the tip of her finger. I could tell the college girls were on her mind; as well the college girls were on my mind, and my cock started to stir. I reached over to lend Robbin a hand. She let my hand replace her hand at her crotch. Soon Robbin was moaning lightly and her breathing became more labored.
She suddenly said, "Oh fuck it," and undid her pants button and slid her pants and panties down in one movement. She stepped out of her left pants leg and spread her legs open. My right hand fingers worked her clit rapidly. I only stopped playing with her clit to slip some fingers inside her and work her vagina; then back to the clit again. I had to keep my attention on the road, it was hard to do as my own lust was building.
I wanted to help Robbin's lust along, I knew she was fantasizing about some young college age girl. So I started talking dirty to her while fingering her. "Can't you just smell her sweet young pussy as you bury your nose in her young tender cunt? Now you lap her with your tongue, her sweet nectar oozing from her cunt. Her musk is overwhelming your senses, it's driving you wild. You're fingering your own pussy while you eat this young thing."
"Oh...John...keeeep thaat uuupp. YES..that's it...right there...I'm cuuummmming," she screams as she bucks wildly in the seat next to me.
A tractor trailer driver toots his horn in appreciation. We hadn't noticed the truck driving right next to us and apparently he had been watching the whole show. I thought my wife would be embarrassed and quickly want to cover herself up, and ask me to slow up or pull over to let the truck get as far away as possible. But Robbin did something like the Robbin of old would have done, the Robbin of our wild youth. She rolled down the window on her side, the side next to the truck, and then pulled her top off. She was now naked, except for her pants still dangling down around her right leg. She flashed the truck driver; she got her big 34D tits right up there in the window and wiggled them back and forth. Then she got up on all fours and shoved her ass out the window and mooned him. That truck driver honked a couple of honks and he smiled a big shit eating grin, then he waved and moved on.
"Oh, that felt good," she exclaimed. "Not just the orgasm, but being sexually free again. Oh John, how I have missed my sexuality. I miss the fun we used to have. Let's get it back before we're too old."
Seeing my wife so sexually expressive again got me hard as a baseball bat. My cock hurt straining against my pants, I needed to get it out. Driving with my left hand I unbuttoned my pants and opened my fly with my right hand and pulled my cock out.
"Oh... my baby needs some relief," Robbin said as she slid over and gave me a blow job while I drove the pickup truck - trying hard not to crash. She used to blow me all the time while I was driving, but it's been about 10 years since the last time. It felt wonderful to be sexually spontaneous again; I hadn't felt this free in years.
About four weeks have gone by since we arrived at the farm. We spent most of time settling into the old farm house, cleaning, unpacking, decorating, etc. It was time to get down to business and think about planting.
Robbin and I settled on a plan. We'd keep things small for the first year, planting only vegetables and flowers. We would sell to local markets and health food stores, and maybe do our own market next year. We would plant as much as we could in raised beds to make it easier to tend to the plants and limit the weeds. We were mostly interested in spring and summer crops: radishes, a variety of lettuces, beans, peas, tomatoes, herbs, summer squash, strawberries, and fresh cut flowers. This way we could hire summer help, hopefully from the local college. When fall came and college was back in session, most of our work would be done for the year. There were already plenty of places doing fall crops, such as apples, hard squashes, pumpkins, etc...; no need in competing with them right now.
There is a bunkhouse between the house and the barn. It was used in the old days for the itinerant farm hands. Robbin and I talked about letting the summer hires stay there if they needed a place to stay.
The bunkhouse had a kitchen and indoor plumbing, but the shower was an outdoor shower. In the old days the farmhands were all males, showering outside in the summer was not a problem.
I hired a carpenter to make long raised beds for the plantings. These beds would be in the field behind the barn. The day Ed arrived to talk to us about taking the raised bed construction job, I saw Robbin's jaw hit the ground. She recognized Ed immediately as he got out of his truck.
"Eddie, is that you?" she yelled from the barn.
"My name is Ed, who would you..." he didn't need to finish his sentence. Robbin was on her way to greet her old lover. Robin and Eddie dated in high school when Robbin lived with her parents on the farm. She ran up to him and gave him a big hug and a kiss.
"Look at you, you haven't changed a bit," she marveled.
"You always were a liar Robbin," Eddie chucked.
I saw they were old friends so I gave them a little time to catch up, then I walked out to meet the carpenter.
"John, this is Eddie; he is an old boyfriend of mine. We dated in high school, and we were quite a hot pair.
As I sized up Ed; he looked fit, trim and ruggedly handsome. "I bet your were," I said grinning.
Good thing I'm not the jealous type, or I would have had to send Ed packing before he even started working. Robbin had a gleam in her eye and her face was flushed; she looked like she was about to jump his bones right there in the barn driveway.
It turns out Ed is also married with no kids, and according to the picture he showed Robbin and myself, his wife was pretty. I started thinking at that point, maybe we have found another couple to swing with, that is, if they were into it.
I showed Ed were we wanted him to build the raised beds and the dimensions we wanted. I instructed him to get redwood, not pressure treated, as we were growing organic vegetables. Ed took a bunch of measurements and said he would be back in a few days to start the work.
"I'd like to fuck Eddie again," Robbin said as he pulled away. "I know it's a lot to ask of you John, but I really feel I need to. I don't love Eddie John, it would just be sex, sport sex, like we talked about."
"What's in it for me? Does Eddie and his wife swing?"
"I don't know, I didn't ask," Robbin said holding my arm as we walked back to the barn. "But I'll find out. And if she doesn't, can I still fuck him? I'll owe you one, you can fuck anyone you want without me involved in a three-way or a swinging situation -- you'll get a free card."