Summer Surprise

"I think we need to go," Pam said rather quietly.

"Sure," Trent piped up and tossed their napkins in the trash. This time as they walked, he avoided touching her. It was hard. Everything in his body screamed for him to press her against the truck and kiss her senseless. He wanted to reheat her mouth to the temperature it should have been and suck the flavor of her ice cream from her tongue. He didn't. He opened the truck door, shut it, adjusted his package again and then headed to his side of the truck. Once inside he drove silently to the farm and she bolted to the house before he could kill the engine.

Pamela once again ran to her bedroom and shut the door. She didn't bother with a bubble bath. Her hands moved over tight nipples and she pulled her T-shirt off and then her boots. Her jeans and panties were pulled down in one swoop. She scooted down the door and began to take care of the fire that was burning between her slick folds. Her fingers drove deep and fast. Each impalement brought a welcoming shudder. "Trent," she whispered as her other hand dipped into her bra and she pulled her breast out.

"God, oh God, Trent," she muttered as she finger-fucked herself and twisted the hard tip of her breast.

She felt her pussy tighten. Her toes curled and her scent filled the room. Her lower lip shook as colors exploded behind her clenched lids. "Yes . . . oh fuck yes," she cried as she slammed her head back, ignoring the pain and letting the climax explode inside her.

Trent had stopped walking when he heard her cry out. He had placed his foot on the top step and gauged it would take a matter of four strides to get him to her bedroom door. Once there he'd be lost. He knew from the sound of her voice, what she had done and a part of him was disappointed that he'd not been allowed to enjoy it. Another part of him was relieved that she was just as affected by him as he was her.

He could have jerked off and come for her, but he didn't. He turned away and left the house. His sole purpose right now was to work on getting the hay stacked and stay away from the widow who was becoming the face in his fantasies.

"Two more days," he muttered. "After today, just two more and I'll be good to go and Pamela will not be an issue." He repeated the phrase until his cock went down and then he focused on not thinking of the woman he knew was somewhere outside.

When evening chores came to a close he quickly headed to his bathroom and showered, not trusting himself to keep his hands off her while they walked back to the house after milking. They ate dinner in silence. Both were unsure of what to say. He tried to make conversation, but would get flustered as he watched her lips move. He could almost see them forming the words of "fuck me Trent" and "Oh God, yes." He shifted in his seat and when she told him she hadn't any pie he gave a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure if he could take watching her lick away the sticky juice from her fingers, fork, or lips.

"Trent," she said, folding the dish towel up and placing it to the side. "I'm going to head to bed, early. We'll save my drawing lesson for tomorrow okay?"

Trent felt terrible. He'd spent all afternoon thinking of ways to avoid her and in the process forgot his agreement to teach her simple techniques in creating art. He took a deep breath and asked, "Are you tired?"

"No, but it's been a long day for you again, and I'm sure you are."

"I'm fine. Besides if I show you how to draw with the pastels you will show me how to bake a pie for supper tomorrow. Right?" He let one brow lift as did his lips. "A deals a deal."

Her eyes brighten and she nodded her head yes. The enthusiasm touched him and he reached out to push a tendril of her golden hair, behind her ear. The touch was simple, soft, and conveyed so much, but he pulled his hand back and shut it off as best he could.

"Meet me out back and I'll be there in a minute. Bring the wine," he told her and left the room.

Pamela hurt. She physically was in pain. The touch had been so welcoming that she had wanted to lean into it. When he removed his fingers from her skin, her heart seemed to catch in a vise that was still not releasing its hold. She took several deep breaths and moved as if in a trance toward the bottle of wine and the goblets. She made it to the patio and sat down, poured herself a glass of the red liquid and downed it quickly. Then she poured them both a glass. When Trent reappeared she was once again composed.

"We'll have an hour, maybe two before we lose the natural light, but for now we'll work outside," he was saying as he laid out paper and an assortment of colors for her to work with.

He pointed out several things in her backyard she could draw and they settled on the birdbath. The color was gray; A single rose vine slid around the rim. The unknown artist had painted it the color of a red, Summer sunset. Trent placed his chair close to hers and though her scent filled his nostrils, the graceful flow of her fingers enraptured him. He showed her how hard or light to press the medium. His fingers laid over hers and the rush of heat would roll through him. He knew she was feeling it. Her breath was becoming more labored.

The snap of the red color brought him back to reality and he listened to her apologize for breaking the slim instrument of his trade. Her eyes showed her sincerity and he whispered, "You never have to apologize to me."

He touched her cheek and slipped his palm down to cup her chin. He brought her head up and he lowered his. Their lips touched. He drew away and looked at the two pink strips of flesh. He could have pulled back if she'd not tasted her mouth with the tip of her tongue. The moment she did that, he felt his body respond and his hand slid to her neck and he pulled her to him. This time his tongue invaded hers and he lapped at her mouth with a hunger he'd never experienced before.

The wine mingled with the flavor of man and woman joining. Pamela whimpered and her body turned so she could slide her fingers into his thick brown curls. Her tongue matched his in hunger and when he scooted his chair back, she did hers, not wanting to lose the contact of lip upon lip.

"Pamela," Trent whispered against her lips, now wet from his claiming of them. "I'll leave if you tell me to." He would die if she told him to.

"Don't leave," she whispered and pressed her mouth back to his.

He pulled her from the chair and left the warm haven he'd been drinking from. Once he had her on his lap he went back to feasting from her. His tongue explored every angle he could dip into. He let one hand run up and down her jean-covered hip and he massaged the skin under it. Eventually he abandoned her mouth and covered her neck with kisses. She dropped her head back and shivered as his teeth began to taste her skin. Her fingers curled in his hair, the other grabbed his shirt and twisted the material. Pam anchored herself to him as he devoured her.

The high-pitched sound of a telephone added to the moans and whimpers that Trent and Pamela were making. A growl erupted from the young man and he felt the woman in his arms shudder as she came down from the little peak he was going to make her climb. He knew in his head who was calling, but he didn't want to admit it. He closed his eyes and cursed when Pamela pulled his arms from around her and on passion-filled legs went into the house. The phone by the back door was ringing and when it stopped he prayed that the caller had hung up before he could answer it. It was an unanswered prayer.

Pamela poked her head out and called for him. "Jill's on the phone." She placed it on the table by the door and went to her bedroom. Once there she stripped and climbed into bed. This time she chose not to come. The feeling of pleasure would have been there, but in the end, something told her it would have felt more empty than it ever had before.

Chapter Three

The storm had come on during the night, keeping Pamela from sleeping soundly. She emerged from her morning shower and headed downstairs to make coffee and tea. Both were already made and toast with jam and butter were arranged on plates. "Hey," she said, yawned and then slid into her chair.

"Hey yourself," Trent answered.

"Couldn't sleep? Or just woke up early?" she asked, covering another big yawn.

He smirked. "A bit of both, You?"

"A bit of both."

She watched him take a seat and she decided to get the ball rolling and asked, "How's Jill?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "She's good. She was calling to let me know a couple of friends of our split up. Mac and Debbie."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I hope both of them are okay."

He smirked. "Yea, their okay, or at least Mac is. It seems he's got another girl on the side."

"Ouch." She didn't want to think about the kiss that had occurred between Trent and her. She was sure that was what had kept him up all night.

"Double ouch, seems Jill's the other girl." He downed his coffee and shook his head in disbelief. "She told me last night she's been seeing him on the side for a while, and was just waiting till I was gone for the summer to tell me . . . something about being too scared to tell me in person. Shit, I'd have rather she do that then to listen to her on the phone. I swear he was fucking her while she was breaking up with me."

"I'm sorry Trent," she told him. What did you say to a man that had just lost a girlfriend, a man you had been kissing the night before, a man you had been fantasizing about and masturbating to? She was sorry. She was sure he was feeling mixed emotions. Confusion as to what last night meant as well as this realization that he was about to cheat on his girlfriend last night when she'd been cheating on him for some time.

"Yea. Me too, I'm sorry I took that phone call. I'm sorry I didn't take you upstairs and make love to you. I'm sorry I let you leave my lap . . . but I'm not sorry she broke up with me. I mean, if I wanted to do all those things with you, then what kind of boyfriend am I . . . or was I?" He looked up at her and shook his head. "You know what? I still feel guilty, guilty for kissing you and still being attached to her, guilty of wanting to crawl into your bed and fuck you hard and fast after she dumped me, guilty of telling all of this right now and not giving you a chase to shut me up."

He pulled her against him and thrust his tongue into her mouth. He drank the morning tea from her lips, suckled on her tongue and pulled her lower lip with his teeth. His hand pushed into hair, not yet in a ponytail. He held her to him, refusing to let her go, if she tried to leave him. When she made no move to do so he eased the pressure of his fingers and angled his head to taste her even deeper. His other hand gripped her upper arm and he stood up, pulled her with him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Again he held her, unwilling to let her free from his grasp. Again she showed no resistance.

Pamela felt his strong fingers in her hair; she relished the strength in his arms. Her body hummed with excitement as he plunged his tongue in and out of her mouth, swept it along the sides of her teeth and then dipped in to savor the lemon from her tea. When he pulled apart to take a breath, her hands came up and brought him back to her.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"For an older woman you ask a silly question," he answered her and jerked her back to him. His fingers slid down her back and he covered her mouth with his. The kiss deepened and then receded, only to deepen again. "Pamela, you tell me right now to take you to the bedroom, or this is happening on your kitchen table." His fingers were working already tugging the hem of her shirt out of her jeans.

His words fueled her desire and she pulled his shirt from his slacks. That was her answer and if he doubted it, she stepped back and lifted her flannel shirt from her body and quickly unclasped her bra.

Trent tore the offensive garment from her breast and wrapped her in his embrace again. His mouth devoured her right nipple and her fingers flew into his hair. "Yes," she moaned and pressed him to her.

He used his teeth to pull the bud out and then he let it free. Her tit swayed and he licked it as it bounced. He opened his mouth and blanketed the entire areola, suckling it with firm pressure. His other hand came up and squeezed her other breast. He pushed it back into her and turned it just enough to hear her moan in ecstasy. Trent hooked his chair with his leg and pulled it to him. Never leaving her precious nipple he sat down and she moved between his legs.

Pamela watched as he pushed the other breast up against its partner and opened his mouth just enough to take both tips into his mouth. "My God," she whispered. Her voice was thick with desire and want. "Trent." She trembled and felt his legs tighten around her. She knew he sensed her need to collapse. Her hands reached for his shoulders and she grabbed his shirt. Holding on to him was her only goal as she felt him take her nipples on a ride of pure sin.

Her pussy was growing more slick with juice. Her panties were soaked; her jeans would soon show the evidence of her arousal. "Trent," she whispered again.

"Hmm?" he asked through nipple-filled lips. He sucked harder. He knew what she was going to say. He could smell her sex. The heady perfume was rolling over him. His mouth refused to let up and he felt his cock jump when her scream erupted from her sex-craved body.

"Trent!" Pamela shouted. Her eyes rolled back; her fingers unclenched and spread out as her body stiffened. Her orgasm rolled through her and she shook violently several times. Her come covered her panties; she felt it slide between the seams of her jeans and knew it was on the outer layer of material. She didn't care. The electrical waves that ran through her were mind-numbing and she wasn't sure if she'd ever be functional again when her orgasm was complete.

Trent smiled like a proud bull and nuzzled her breasts with his face, before sliding up and kissing her. When he released her, he growled into her ear. "Turn around and slid your pants down. I want you now, Pamela. I want to fuck you. Can I fuck you Pam?"

"Yes, Trent," she groaned and did as he asked. With legs that felt like jell-O, she turned around and fumbled with her button and zipper. As she did, she could hear him pulling his jeans down. She felt his fingers wrap around her waistbands and he yanked the pants and underwear down in one swift jerk.

"Beautiful," he said and ran his hand down her spine. He watched her tremble and pressed her forward. Her torso lay over the table; she cupped her breasts and squeezed them as she displayed her ass for him. Trent watched her wiggle and he gripped her cheeks. He bent his knees just enough to aim his cock head against her opening. "Pamela, baby, tell me what you want," he demanded.

"Fuck me, Trent," she pleaded. "Fuck me hard and fast."

He plowed into her. The head of his sex rolled into her pussy and he moved his hands to her hips.

"Pam, squeeze my cock. I want you holding me tight." He felt her respond and dragged his cock out of her. His head popped out and she begged for him to come back. He chuckled and slammed into her again. Once more she held him tight, once more he dragged himself out, this time though allowing her to hold the head of his dick deep inside her.

"Trent," she whimpered and pressed back into him. His cock slid in. She growled. "Faster, damn it!" she shouted.

He began again. Harder. Faster. He fucked her as if it that was why he'd been hired in the first place. He drove his cock in deep, the head hit her G-spot and he rocked his hips; his dick rubbed back and forth over her hot home. The walls of her sex clamped around him and he felt his body tightening as he started to increase his speed once more. They were a blur. His cock impaling her and ass moving in sequence with his thrusts. His balls continued to snake up to his body until his come was boiling and erupting into her.

"Pam . . . oh fuck, Pam!"

"Trent," she gasped as she felt his seeds coat her. Her climax collided with his and she felt her fingers grip her tits, squeeze them and pull on the warm flesh as he pounded another rope of seed into her slick home. Her face contorted in a mix of emotions and she felt herself tremble with mini climaxes that poured through her system.

He collapsed on her back. His mouth rested on her shoulder and he kissed the warm skin. His cock slipped from her and he shuddered at the feeling of loss. She turned in his arms and he stood up, pulling her to him.

Trent stared into her green eyes and ran his hand over her cheek. His mouth captured her lips and once more they kissed and explored this time the touch was slow, tender, seductive.

Pamela pulled away and slid her hands around him. She held him for several minutes; she was at a loss for words. In time they separated and he eased her panties up and then her jeans. He kissed her stomach before picking up her bra, which he tossed over a chair and then he helped her back into her shirt. "I may need to play with those while doing chores," he said into her ear, before grasping her nipple with his finger and thumb.

She laughed and watched him release her, step back and get dressed. "See that you do," she told him.

They both pulled on boots and jackets. The outraged mews of the herd were easily heard and Trent was amazed that the cows had all come up to the barn. Not a head was missing as he and his lover did the headcount. He made a comment to her about the herd being anxious and she countered, explaining that they were pissed off at being forced to wait. He chuckled, pulled her close and told her. "They'll have to get used to it."

She grinned and kissed him back. "Yep," she agreed.

Another morning slipped by, this time though milking took longer. Kisses were passed back and forth as well as several grope, thus it was even later that the herd was released and allowed to go out to pasture. Lunch was spent cuddling and field work was also late. Pamela didn't mind though, suddenly there was something else in her life and for the first time in five years she didn't like farming. That evening Trent moved into her bedroom and her bed.

Chapter Four

Pamela rolled over and into the back of another. It took her a moment to remember she had invited Trent to sleep with her. They had loved into the wee hours of the morning and she wrapped her arms around him. He rolled over and hooked her legs with his. His arm encircled her and he nuzzled her neck. "Explain something to me, please."

"Yes?" she asked. Her fingers trailed down his back and rested on his hip.

"How did you do it? How did you get up every morning and milk cows? Surely there were days you said, 'fuck it' and didn't get up," he laughed.

"Oh yes, there were times I said it, but we still got up and did chores. If there wasn't a lot to do other than taking care of the animals, we came back to bed and passed out."

"With you in my bed, I can't imagine ever passing out . . . at least not from chores, but from sexual exhaustion," he pretended to think for a moment, "I'd be willing to try that theory."

She laughed and rolled him to his back, though if he'd resisted she would not have been able to topple him. "Lay still," she demanded and slid her tongue over her lips. She winked and slipped down his body. Her eyes met his and then traveled to the erection that was becoming a welcoming distraction in her once normal, mundane life.

"I want to taste you," she told him. She ran her tongue over the head of his cock.

"I want to drink you," she whispered and ran it down the full length of him.

"I want to feel your hands in my hair, forcing me to fuck your cock with my mouth." She lapped at his balls, lifting them with her firm stroke.