tagErotic CouplingsGetting Fucked on the Farm

Getting Fucked on the Farm


He woke only after he felt Gwen poke him in the ribs, and heard the noise from the garden only after he had lifted his head to query his strangely provocative mate. Strange. Normally he heard them well before she did.

Goddamn raccoons. Every goddamn year they came back for the sweet corn. Every year. And every year they knocked over every stalk they could lay their fingers on. Any other time of the year, Ed would have let them be. Hell, he even threw scraps out for them now and again if it was a hard winter. But in August, it was war. And Ed didn't take prisoners.

He could hear them through the open window in the garden fifty yards away, making noises that almost sounded like soft laughter as they ambled through the rhubarb and zucchini in the garden towards the tall rows that held their intended breakfast. For a moment he entertained the thought that they were mocking him, but he let the thought pass. They were animals. Nothing more.

He got up out of bed quietly, putting a massive but gentle hand on his wife's shoulder and pressing gently as she turned towards him to reassure her and to keep her in bed. She knew the annual ritual. Shotgun blasts at four in the morning. She sighed softly, murmured a monosyllabic but incomprehensible greeting, and quickly began softly snoring as she fell back to sleep. They both slept naked, and he always woke with an erection. He thought of waking her for a moment to quietly fill her sleepy cunt with semen, but left her undisturbed. She worked hard, and could use the sleep. And his family was in the house.

For a moment he paused as he put on his robe, considering the effect of a shotgun blast from the garden on the sleeping occupants of the old brick home. Most of the extended family had joined them for the August Civic holiday and a feed of sweet corn. His widowed mother, whose quick recovery from the flu had made her attendance a welcome surprise, would know the score and quickly fall asleep after the blast. His younger brother and sister would wake immediately, would educate their respective wife and husband in reassuring whispers, and would put their heads back on their pillows with a shake of the head and a grin. His own two children were with their own young families. And none of his sister's kids, teenagers now, had opted to attend the annual family weekend event. Both of them had parties to attend at the family cottage on the lake, over an hour away. Ed was surprised that his sister had allowed her kids to have a party at the cottage alone. She had replied, with a shake of her head and a sad grin, that at seventeen and eighteen they were beyond parental influence, and that the cottage was well stocked with strategically placed condoms in every room. They had done all that they could, and much preferred that their children had sex in the cottage bedrooms than in the boathouse or on the dock in the black of night. Ed was surprised at her candor, but couldn't dispute her logic.

Ed was sure that, aside from a smile and a joke in the morning about thieves with masks in the garden, the only consequence of a shotgun blast would be a couple minutes of lost sleep. He finished pulling on his robe, tied it shut, quietly stepped down the stairs to avoid waking his sister and brother-in-law sleeping upstairs, walked through the kitchen, tiptoed softly past the living room where his brother Tony and sister-in-law Gwen were sleeping on the pull-out couch, and moved into the mudroom at the back of the house.

Flipping on the lights before putting on a pair of rubber boots, he reached deep into the adjacent closet until he felt, at the back of the closet and behind a loose board, the key for the gun cabinet. He flicked it into the palm of his hand and unlocked the tall safe, finding the familiar twelve gauge by touch and pulling it out of the cabinet while scooping a half dozen shells from the small shelf above the guns into the pocket of the robe. He looked up, and marked himself in the tall mirror mounted on the outer door of the mudroom.

He smiled, and would have laughed out loud at the ridiculous image in the mirror had the family not been asleep upstairs, as six feet of rural satire stared back at him and grinned maniacally. Never, in all the redneck stereotypes he had come across in twenty years of farming, had he ever seen an image so... well... redneck.

Six feet four inches of muscular, tanned farmer stared back at him from the mirror. The slightly receding hairline he could accept as a natural consequence of turning forty-eight last month. The rubber boots were tools of the trade. The shotgun wasn't an implement he employed daily, but it too fit in the larger image. But the bright white cotton night robe that his wife had purchased for him last Christmas was simply too much when set alongside the rest. The skin on his powerful calves between his boots and his knees was a ghostly white, almost to match the robe -- farmers don't wear shorts -- but the dark black pelt of hair that started at the lip of his boots and disappeared under the hem of the robe was almost comical in contrast. And while the cotton robe itself didn't look out of place on his broad, burly frame, the thirty inches of metal and polished walnut in the crook of his right arm was a significant departure from the softness and purity of the cotton robe which was, all things considered, two sizes too small.

The disparity didn't end. Rippled, hirsute arms disappeared into openings that were barely large enough to accommodate the muscled pipes of flesh that he used for arms, and the breadth of his shoulders forced the neck of the robe apart in a deep "V", revealing more masses of black chest hair that seemed to sprout from his chest like a crop. In severe contrast to the deep "V" of the robe, an arc of tanned flesh circled his neck just below his protruding Adams Apple, below which lay ghostly white but obviously powerful pectorals. It was second-cut hay season, and only an idiot wears an open neck baling. Above the arc of his shirt where his skin suddenly changed color, he was as brown as his pureblood Apache neighbour, and sporting a day of stubble that threatened to bloom into a full beard if left untamed for even one more day.

His face, however, fit the robe. Intelligent. Strong. Amused. Had Ed actually decided to use the degree in commerce that he had earned at York, he would have been tanned head to toe from regular salon visits, and would have been cradling nothing more than a glass of good vintage Pinot Noir. But he had decided, after his father died, to step up and take on the family farm to keep his mother in the country. The alternative -- forcing her to move to the city -- had been unthinkable. She was a country girl head to toe.

After his mother had moved to a nursing home -- of her own free will -- it was too late to start again. His wife was a country girl -- pleasingly plump, hard working, good natured, wickedly smart, redheaded, and willing to fuck on the drop of a dime in any location or position that Ed could imagine. Indeed, there wasn't a room, piece of furniture, outbuilding, barn, or single acre of the property that hadn't borne witness to a completely wholesome and thoroughly indecent fucking, licking, sucking, or alternative form of loving depravity. And, after all was said and done, a dairy quota had paid almost as much as a degree in commerce could have. At the tender age of forty-eight, he was set to retire. Now he farmed because he loved it. Which made it a pretty damn fine life. No regrets.

There were two bulges in his robe, both of them obvious in the reflection in the mirror. One was the shotgun shells, clinking in his robe pocket as he moved towards the door. The other bulge was larger, lower, and was quite obviously a significant quantity of farmer's cock that had materialized as he remembered and appreciated the last time Gwen had surprised him, buck naked in the fifth lane of the milking shed, grooming one of the milking cows with a brush as she smiled at him lasciviously and arched her back suggestively without a single word of greeting. Immediately and painfully erect, he had taken her savagely from behind as she leaned forward on the concrete manger -- he fully clothed with his cock protruding thickly from his overalls, she completely naked, gasping and gripping the manger as she spread her legs, took his cock up and into her muscular vagina, and offered profane and enthusiastic encouragement as he shouted her name and came inside her while cows lowed and mooed around them at the unexpected commotion. She had vanished as quickly as she had appeared, kissing him quickly and coolly on the cheek before walking, still naked, out the shed door and into the cool October air on her way to the house where she had left all of her clothes, semen trailing visibly from her pussy and down her left leg.

Ed wished, for a moment, that he had worn underwear under the robe to hide his erection -- before shaking his head in disbelief at his own stupidity. Who would care if a raccoon saw his erection? He didn't think Gwen would mind, as long as he killed the damn thing immediately afterwards.

He opened the door and stepped outside in the heat of an August night, pausing on the back porch until his pupils dilated in the dark to give him some night vision. The crickets stopped chirping for a brief moment as they heard the noise, then rapidly resumed their lusty search for mates. He stepped down the back stairs quietly, then around the corner of the house to head for the garden. The five hundred watt yard light cast just enough illumination to shoot by, even at four o'clock in the morning, as long as the culprit was in the corn and not beyond the bushes that bordered the neighbour's woodlot. Taking care to stay on the grass on the border of the lane as he walked, as even the smallest crunch of gravel would warn the coons of his approach, he began his quiet stalk out the driveway that lay parallel to the family garden. As he walked, he slipped three shells from his pocket and into the magazine of the shotgun, chambering a round quietly after making sure the safety was fully engaged.

The light was dim, and although he couldn't see the coons eating his corn, he could easily see the tassels of a half dozen stalks quivering in the centre of the rows. He smiled grimly. They wouldn't be able to see him as he approached, and he was sure he would, in just a few minutes, have the grim but necessary task of pumping a coon full of steel shot. He didn't enjoy this job, but he certainly intended to eat the fruit of the seed he had planted before they did.

He slipped across the shallow swale that separated the lane from the garden, and began quietly sliding down the first row of corn. The stalks rose above his head, but he could see down the entire row. No coons. As quietly as he could, he slipped through the stalks and into the second row, squatting to see down the row -- and flinching quietly in surprise as a random weed poked his bare testicles. Yet another reason to wear underwear next time. And no raccoons in the second row.

Row by row he searched the twelve rows of corn, without luck. He was certain he had seen the tassels moving in the centre of the rows, but the damn things had obviously heard him and had retreated to the shrubs on the far side of the garden. He could hear them there, playing and fighting. There was certainly more than one. He kept the safety on, in case the culprits were farm cats and not coons, and slowly poked his head around the last row of corn.

He withdrew it just as quickly, biting his lip and holding his breath. No raccoons. But his brother and sister-in-law were definitely not sleeping in the living room on the pull-out couch, because his very naked sister-in-law Anna was, at that very moment, on all fours and proficiently sucking his brother's cock in the ten feet of open space between the corn and neighbour's woodlot.

He had only caught a glimpse, but the poorly-lit image was burnt in his mind. His brother Tony, who he hadn't seen naked since they played hockey together thirty years ago, was lying on the ground, feet towards Ed, arms splayed into the weeds, clutching clods of dirt in his fists while Anna straddled his knees. Her head was bobbing up and down slowly on his cock, and her legs were spread open over his. Her tits alternatively lifted from his legs, then lowered and mashed against them as she took his cock back into her mouth, quietly and rhythmically mouthfucking him as he gently thrashed on the tilled soil. Her ass was lifted towards the lane, and the image of her swollen, cleanshaven pussy was more than Ed could rationally deal with. It was, in the moment, like looking into the sun. The image was burned on his retina so, no matter where he looked in the dimly lit garden, the mental image of her hips, ass, and vulva followed him and forced itself into his mind's eye.

He closed his eyes and waited for the overwhelming image to fade. But the lack of vision cued his other senses, and instead of seeing the act he was forced to listen to it. Sounds that he had previously attributed to fighting raccoons were now clearly the sounds of his kin fucking. His brother was moaning and moving on the ground underneath Anna. Her mouth was making wet noises as it slid up and down Tony's cock. And, in between strokes with her mouth, she moaned softly in debauched satisfaction. Every fourth or fifth stroke, she withdrew her mouth and spoke to him softly while she softly pumped his cock with one of her hands.

"Give it to me baby... your cock is going to feel so good inside me... when you're ready to cum this time tell me... I want you in my cunt when you're ready..."

Far from fading, the image in Ed's head was more real than real. Like a panning camera on rails, the image turned in his mind and he saw the act from every angle as if he was walking around them. The moving image began some feet behind Anna, focusing on the glistening vertical slit of her pussy, then rotating to the left, pulling back to catch her moving hips and breasts, then her mouth on Tony's wet, shining cock, before panning down her right side to once again end at her pussy. Ed heard a dull thud, and realized he had dropped the shotgun.

There was a moment of silence as the fucking couple paused at the sound, before they enthusiastically resumed their debauchery. Ed flinched and held himself motionless until the sound of Tony's moaning provided sufficient aural camouflage to permit him to breathe. He opened his eyes and looked towards the laneway before a blur of motion caught his eye near his waist. He looked down and recognized his own hirsute cock protruding from the folds of his robe. Smaller than Tony's, but much thicker, it was covered halfway up its length with the same thick black hair that covered his legs and chest. Ed shook his head and paused, deciding whether to retrieve the shotgun at his feet before he headed back to the house. But he continued to listen to Anna as she whispered to her husband and sucked his cock.

"No-one will ever know... if you're quiet you can fuck me... you can come up right behind me... you can stick your cock inside me... you can cum inside my pussy..."

Tony moaned and tore up weeds with his fingers as she bit him. He lifted his filthy hands and moved them to her breasts near his thighs, fondling them and tweaking her nipples as she sighed in contentment above him and whispered her sweet nothings to him between mouthfuls of cock.

"Oh God, I want you baby... oh God I want to fuck you... at the same time that I suck you..."

Tony panted and moaned underneath her as she murmured to him, and began twitching his hips, thrusting his hips up into her mouth. Anna gagged softly with each thrust, but held her head above him as he started fucking her throat. Every couple of thrusts she would lift her head and pump him with both hands while she offered him more verbal encouragement, whining with building excitement.

"Do it, baby, do it... when you're ready tell me... I want it in my cunt... it feels so fucking empty... I wish you were behind me... I want your cock inside me..."

To Ed's chagrin, he realized he had started to jerk off while he listened to them fuck. Anna was very, very good. And her expertise reduced his reluctance to watch. Her proficiency had turned his shame into detached arousal, like watching a pornographic film. So he turned his head back towards them and, stroking his cock, resolved to watch quietly until they were finished, when he would quietly retreat to the house and wake Gwen for the quiet late night fuck he now desperately needed.

Tony was growing frantic underneath her. He was thrusting his hips powerfully up into her mouth now. Anna had two hands pressed around the base of his cock, taking only the top four inches of his stabbing nine inches into her mouth to save her bruised throat. And Ed could tell, in spite of Anna's whispered requests, that he was going to cum. And he did.

He choked and spluttered below Anna as she expertly sucked his exploding cock, swallowing everything he sent up the shaft of his cock and into her throat as he moaned and gasped underneath her. In ten seconds it was done, and Ed watched as she lifted her head and leaned backwards until her ass was resting on her calves, hiding her engorged and gorgeous vulva. Tony breathed heavily underneath her, and Anna tossed her blond hair, matted slightly with a dollop of semen that had somehow escaped her proficient mouth, and sighed. Finally, Tony spoke.

"It's as if he needs a fucking signed invitation."

Anna chuckled and gently stroked his flaccid and glistening cock before replying.

"She said he would."

The conversation made no sense to Ed, so he ignored it. Until Tony spoke again.


Ed turned his head away, and pulled his neck through the last row of corn to hide himself.

"Ed, you can come out now."

What the fuck?

"For fuck's sake man, come out of the corn. If you wanted to hide, you shouldn't have worn a white robe in green corn."

Ed waited for a few seconds, and then realized he had been caught. Looking down, he tucked his erection into his robe as best he could, then stepped through the last row of corn and trusted that the dim light would hide his condition.

Meeting his naked sister-in-law's eye squarely, and struggling not to look at her ample tits, he nodded and offered a greeting.

"Evening, Anna."

"Evening, Ed."

"Evening, Tony."

"Evening, Ed."

Ed was reminded of an old Chevy Chase film... "... doctor, doctor... doctor, doctor... doctor, doctor..." and smiled briefly inside himself before mentally returning to the events at hand.

"Thought you were raccoons. Hope I didn't intrude."

Anna smiled at him, her right hand still softly caressing Tony's wet cock.

"No more so than anyone masturbating in the corn would have intruded." She looked pointedly down at the slowly diminishing lump under his robe.

Ed was thoroughly chagrined, but mustered a smile, an apology, and a gentle rebuttal.

"Apologies, Anna. It's not every day you find your brother and sister-in-law fucking in the sweet corn. We have to eat this stuff, you know."

She smiled back in genuine appreciation of both his apology and his humor, and offered only a deep sigh of ambiguous composition in return.

Tony put his hands behind his head as Anna caressed his penis with her right hand, and stared up at Ed unashamedly before speaking.

"Alright then, awkward moment over, and more to the point." He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "We heard you coming, and we saw you in the corn. Any thoughts on why we didn't stop when we knew you were there?"

Ed collected his thoughts for a moment and drew a complete blank.

"No idea, Tony. I thought I was hidden and had no intention of disturbing you. I had hoped to wake Gwen when I got back to the house to relieve some... frustration."

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