It's Only Sex

Grabbing the shovel she jumped into knee-deep muddy water and felt for the rock, falling into the slush but managing to keep her face and shouting, "Fuck!" She toiled away, dressed only in an ancient blue boiler suit, looking as sexy as the back of a dump truck.

"Move you mother-fucker!" she yelled in frustration as she failed to shift the stone in grip of suction.

"Need help darling?"

Oh God, it was HIM.

She died a thousand deaths and looking at her watch realized she should have been back at the house ready to go with him to the opening of an art gallery.

Although grossly embarrassed she smiled and said, "Hullo sweetie, this is a side and sound of me that you haven't yet witness. Please try to cope with it and don't get your lovely suit dirty."

"Describe the mother fucker. At least it's not me and mom."

"What?"

"Almost a joke. I'll tell you about it later."

"The mother fucker is this chunk of stone hidden by the water. No one has succeeded or even bothered to remove it over the years and now I know why. Do you want to help?"

"Yes, of course."

"It will mean missing the art opening."

"No problem. I was only going to show you off."

"Oh, aren't you a darling. Drive back to mum and ask her to help load two heavy boards and our grandfather's chain on to dad's ATV and bring them here. She'll need to hitch the trailer."

"Right, I'm on my way."

He was 100 feet away when she screamed, "Can you ride a four-wheeler?"

Sonny waved.

He was at his car door when she screamed, "Fetch a half dozen beers."

He waved.

Half an hour later Sonny, wearing only a pair of her father's shorts and old sneakers, finally pulled the loop end of the chain from under the rock, wrapped it through again and Meg draped the loose end he handed her around the bucket and fastened the end loop with a shackle. The tractor wheels now were on top of the heavy boards to stop them sinking into the soft ground.

"Stand clear," she called, applied power and the rock came out of the mud with a loud 'pop' and Meg lifted it clear and dumped it to one side to pick up later in the bucket.

"Well, you certainly earn your money," Sonny said as he spread out the rug and afternoon tea hamper Rowena insisted he take. Meg put the beer on the rug.

"Do you mind if I take off this boiler suit? I'm wearing nothing underneath."

"What a good idea," Sonny grinned, opening two bottles of beer. "That means we'll be very late home, doesn't it?"

Sonny lay on the blanket, head on the hamper, sipping beer while Meg bounced up and down on him, tits flying, riding Cowgirl and also sipping beer.

"This is lewd, giving the offence to those people who regard sex with sanctity."

"We are lewd people Meg."

"You're not wearing a condom."

"I'm taking a risk we're both clean."

"Will you promise to always use a condom with Muriel."

Sonny didn't hesitate: "Yes I promise."

"Squirt into me, it's safe. Oh shyte, here I come," she said, putting down her beer bottle. I'm going to squeeze you now!"

Well, that's one useful thing she learned in attending to the ag boys at college, thought Sonny, quite convinced she would pull the head off his cock with the pressure she was exerting.

"Waaaaaaaaaagh!" he yelled.

"Aaaaggghhh!" she echoed, as they scared birds from the trees around them.

"How much does Ben pay you an hour?"

Meg said nothing, she just loved the work and he gave her a check when he remembered.

"The skinflint."

"Perhaps. But once I'd only worked two weeks and one day when he remembered and handed me a cheek for $3000. He rather likes his little girl."

"I'm sorry for thinking so poorly of him."

Meg said that was okay. She'd implied his father was clueless but she realized that at work he probably was very effective. She decided not to say anything about her meeting with Muriel until after the event.

* * *

On sunny Saturday, amid the shrill cries of happy children and a couple of excited barking dogs, Meg arrived at the fountain and saw a woman alone wearing a yellow hat. She wished she was home pulling rocks out of ditches but she waved and an arm under the yellow hat wave back.

Meg hurried over and said the spread on the ground looked lovely. She didn't know whether to hug, kiss or stand awkwardly so she stood awkwardly as did Muriel.

"I'm a country girl. May I hug and kiss my greeting?"

"Thank goodness for that. Come here you beautiful young thing. You are gorgeous. Please call me Muriel. This cannot be easy for you."

"We've both had a hole dug for us and occupied it Muriel. So we best get on with it."

"Oh my, how brilliantly expressed. I've been trying to rehearse numerous small speeches but they all seem to collapse on me."

"Me too. I understand we both have something in common: we both like to fuck."

Muriel's face caught a look of apprehension but it was overcome by a huge grin. "You have a cute way of expressing yourself."

Meg opened the drinks bag.

"Oh gawd, two bottles of champagne. We'll be legless."

"Only one is to drink here. The other is my wee hello gift to you."

"Meg, I'm sorry. I didn't think of bringing a present for you."

"The best present you can give me is to say you'll never take Sonny from me."

"I promise, absolutely Meg. This situation is so awkward for me. I feel like an intruder."

They watched the wine sparkle its way into flutes then clicked glasses, both women now wearing happy faces and looking quite in keeping with the family groupings around them but not crowding them in such a large park with its magnificent trees.

"I want you to be family," Meg said. "That is the only thing I tried rehearsing to say to you that seem to make sense and to express what I have come to feel in recent days."

Muriel raised her glass and with slightly moist eyes said that was a very beautiful thing for Meg to say. "A toast: may we always live in harmony."

"I'll drink to that; I feel a good friendship is beginning to develop," Meg smiled. "We must always remember to have no guilt, that's it's only sex."

"Ohmigod, are you succinct in the way you express yourself," Muriel giggled.

CHAPTER 5

Muriel called Sonny.

"You are so lucky... she's beautiful and beautiful as a person."

"Muriel?" Sonny asked. He'd pulled himself out of the pool and raced to the phone, picking it up without looking at the caller.

"Yes."

"You've met her?"

The slightly slurry voice answered: "Is that a profound question for an educated man?"

"Bitch! How did she take to you?"

"Okay, this is never to be repeated: in my honest opinion she thinks I'm lovely. I was so afraid that she was going to hate me. But throughout we were charming to each other and I'm sure we are going to be friends. That's all I wish to say and we must try to avoid crossovers, to keep our lives on parallels."

"Good thinking, though it's bound to become difficult."

"Such as?"

"Our wedding, your fortieth in years to come."

"Of course. Oh dear, I'd not given it much thought but obviously you have. I must review likely complications myself. Anyway, I must go. Until next time."

"Bye."

Sunday lunch at the farm went surprisingly well. Although Rowena appearing in a 10-year old dress that threatened to send Peggy's eyelash extensions into orbit as she arched them in despair, Rowena won through on sheer personality, She appeared naïve but decidedly wholesome, trustworthy and her genuine warmth shone through.

Grant, faced with a presentation of 'country fare' that would never appear on a menu at the City Club started tentatively but soon was seduced with good honest flavors. The soup for example made from real beef-bone stock rather than a supermarket stock that probably was a concocted base from steam-pressure extraction gunk from cooked beef bones collected from restaurants and school and hospital dining halls, being refrigerated of course and passing food hygiene tests even if at just-passed levels.

The beef roast was part of a haunch of a locally killed two-year-old Hereford bull that had fractured its pizzle as a result of over-use after it had crashed through three fences to get at a paddock of heifers. Never before had Grant tried pickled carrots, pumpkin cream cheese pie, yellow string beans and lettuce leaves coated with minced-shrimp and red wine vinaigrette. Peggy raved over the vanilla bean ice-cream served with bottled peaches from Rowena's orchard and topped with almond liqueur flavored cream. Quality wines that well-matched the dishes were served.

After lunch everyone boarded Ben's 7-seater four-wheel-drive SUV and they drove to the end of the farm three miles away where they stopped on the a beautifully crafted stone bridge over a willow-lined stream that gave it's name to the property, Willow Bridge Farm.

They drank liquors and coffee while Ben informed them about the farm, why he'd converted from cattle to grain and why the origin of the bridge remained a mystery.

"Experts have inspected it and believe it is almost 200 years old, but why it was built non-one knows. There are no signs of it on any known map of the district and no signs of roads passing through this locality. It's virtually useless to us because it's too narrow for harvesters to cross. So there you area; it remains a mystery. Anyone like to go flying?"

Peggy said yes, providing the aircraft and the pilot were safe.

"Well it does have air conditioning," Ben said, and that satisfied Peggy.

"Take Peggy up Meg," her father said, "but no rolls or loops."

"Ohmigod," Peggy said, as Ben opened the barn door near the bridge and she saw the aircraft, a veteran open-cockpit two-seater British-made Tiger Moth.

"Is this a replica?"

"No, the real thing Peggy. Are you game?"

She nodded. The men rolled out the light aircraft and Peggy put on leather flying jacket, white scarf, a leather helmet, goggles and leather gloves.

"You sit in the front. Peggy sits behind you. You will see a speaking tube once I get you aboard I'll demonstrate how to use it."

"How far away is the runway?"

"It's the grass you see in front of you Peggy. It will be bumpy but don't be afraid. Meg is a fine pilot, rated for aerobatics. Up you go."

Peggy came back, her face aflame with excitement. "Amazing, the best flight I've ever had."

Grant decided to opt out and Meg took Sonny up. He was returned to group absolutely hooked. After rolling the Tiger Moth back into its hangar they all returned to the house a very happy group, now on they way to being integrated.

"Our place for lunch next Sunday or the City Club?" Grant asked. He looked pleased when the three Hackshaws opted for dinner at the McCain's home.

Sonny stayed behind to spend the rest of the day with Meg. They walked down to the village.

Meg said, "I guess Muriel phoned to say we had a picnic?"

"No, she was very sparse in detail. She preferred not to discuss what you talked about. She was with her husband and just wanted me to know that you'd met and thought you were, quote, just beautiful, end quote. Will you see her again?"

"Yes. I believe we will become good friends. Your mom was brave to go up today when discovering the aircraft was a Tiger Month. I don't know what she was expecting but certainly nothing like that. They are very safe really. Attention to maintenance and avoiding pilot error are the keys."

"Of course. Will the bar be open?"

"Yes, but it will be very quiet."

"Good, I want to discuss something about my mother."

* * *

That was a very enjoyable outing, Grant said, piloting the big limousine along with his customary skill and keeping within the speed limit, ignoring the hoons who wanted to coax him into a race.

"Very, they are such nice people and coming back Meg said we traversed the narrow side of the farm that goes for nine miles in the other direction."

"Wow that's twenty-seven square miles. Let me see. Wow, that around 17,000 acres and prime cropping land. That guy's worth a fortune."

Peggy asked casually what did Grant want to do when they arrived home.

"Go to bed, would you like that?"

"Oh Grant, I'd thought you never ask. We don't do it much these days."

"Well let's see if we can do it more often. I might think about starting an hour later. Ripping one off in the early morning always appeals to me."

"I like the sound of that darling."

* * *

The bar was very quiet. Meg almost had to wake up the bar tender. She chose a bottle of white and took it over to the spot where she'd told Sonny to sit, saying it was her treat.

"Let's have a few and you stay the night. I asked mom and she said she was perfectly happy for you to sleep with me. Dad of course assumes we have been doing it from the moment we met; he's pragmatic like that."

They both said cheers and sipped and then Sonny said, "You used a word about that rock in the ditch. Mother fucker; remember.

"I do," Meg grinned. "It was used a lot at college."

"Well I want to tell you about Peggy and me."

"Oh God, you naughty boy. Not your own mother."

Sonny flushed and said no but he was under pressure and had been since he'd returned home from university.

"For years she's been a little strange with me, like dressing in front of me, adjusting her suspender clip and not worry about what's showing, calling me into the bathroom and making no attempt to cover up. I was never aware of her doing this with my two older brothers or even my older sister.

"Did she pet you?"

"Yes, she always had and it made my siblings jealous."

Sonny hesitated but Meg urged him to continue.

"When I returned to the city for good, she began pulling my hand on to her breast when kissing me and then kissing me sexily on the lips, with a partly opened mouth but never tonguing me though I began to feel the offer was there for me to tongue her. Then she started kissing me when dressed only in a robe and pulling me hand into her bare breast, and her nipple would be fat and rigid.

"Did she ever rub her pussy up and down your leg?"

"No."

"What about pressing into you?"

Sonny looked worried and gulped some wine. "Yes, always. But never a rub."

"Have you ever touched her pussy?"

"No."

"Encourage her in any way?"

"No but I never pulled my hand away hastily in fear of offending he. "I'd say something like "Aw, mum' and pulled my hand away gently and she would never complain, only sigh."

Meg said "Hmm?"

"Is that significant?"

"I think so. Anything else?"

"Yes, at the beginning of last week I was swimming lengths and she sat right at the end of the lane I was swimming in, spread her legs and pulled up her dress. I only saw this when I looked up to judge the distance for my flip turn. The next time I had a complete view of her hairy pussy and she was just gazing at me, looking sad. Then two nights later the same thing happened but this time I noticed her pussy hair was closely clipped into some sort of shape. The next time I went to turn she had one or two fingers up it and the next time when she'd gone."

"That's all except to say I feel harassed by my own mother. I'm hoping my engagement to you will take the heat off me and her focus will go elsewhere, perhaps on you but I don't mean sexually."

"Hmmm."

"Is that significant?"

Peg filled their glasses and they watched four elderly people come in and order gins.

"I think you have been doing the right thing, Sonny, by not making a big deal of it and resisting. You must keep doing that. I suspect your father is neglecting herb and she's transferring her attention to you but perhaps imaging you are your father. I really don't know, Would you like me to talk to her about it?"

"Yes, if that's possible without upsetting her."

Peg smiled. "You say that women are devious, well women can be devious to women. If I'm as smart as I think I am I'll gradually get her talking about her sexual desires and she'll even believe she brought up the subject. Now enough of this and I really don't regard it as a monumental problem so long as she keeps her unconventional behavior within the family. Now, about my pussy. I'm not wearing panties and you ought to be able to reach is with your fingers without drawing attention in this dim light."

"You're such a slut," grinned Sonny and she replied she loved him talking to her like that."

* * *

Next day there were five reporters including Sonny without assignments. Tim told them to go out and find stories. Muriel had left the previous night for a three-day political conference.

Sonny grabbed a digital camera from the illustrations editor's assistant and with his slim ring-topped notebook and pencil in his inside pocket of his jacket stood outside the impressive entrance of the building simply called 'Star'. He thought that was pathetic marketing yet was distinctly different; perhaps when he was in power he'd have a big flashing sign erected on the roof away from the helicopter landing pad. Then add an illuminated sign could be placed down the front of the building blocking the view from the boardroom. Good one Sonny.

Now, which way were these stories Tim desired? Straight-ahead, to the left or to the right or behind him? Ah, the reporter's dilemma and in all probability he or she would turn the wrong way. So using logic for what that was worth, which probably was nothing, Sonny returned inside and went out the back of the building, walking east.

He thought he may have been the first Star reporter on the hunt for a story had ever done that but then acknowledged that was unlikely to be correct because many reporters were a lot smarter that he was. His mind flicked on by this mental exercise that would be meaningless to most people. He'd stride onwards with the emptiness of a intelligent brain not knowing what its eyes, eyes and nose were seeking; touch was unlikely to be activated in this exercise.

He walked, looking and listening. Nothing. He walked some more for the same deflating result. It was teaching him the value of the assignment log, a lesson never to forgotten: have it loaded with assignments or the newspaper would suffer. He squared his shoulders and clenched his teeth: no way was he returning to Tim Giles, head slightly bowed to say, "Nothing, sorry."

Half an hour later Sonny grabbed a paper cup of coffee and a sandwich and sat on a street seat and thought about his two women who were taking him into a new life of sexual excess in a mutual arrangement that would dismay and even sicken most people. Out of jealously most of his male friends would grin and wish him luck without necessarily wishing they were similarly placed in a mixed sex triumvirate.

Remarkably, none of the three were gutter-dwellers. In most ways Muriel was very circumspect almost to the point of being prudish but sexually had not been treated well and had felt it necessary to find what she wanted elsewhere but without actually committing until he fell virtually into her lap. Sonny was quite sure that in her mind Muriel was having a normal sexual relationship with him, closing her mind to the fact that she was married to someone else. She certainly wasn't a slut. They hadn't had sex for a fortnight and he figured she'd stood back when Meg appeared on the scene and Muriel was now nervous about a re-start. Well, he would engineer a solution to that little hiccup.

Watching people walk by, few of them apart from mothers looking at their babies or tots were smiling. Last night he'd jokingly called Meg a slut and she'd reveled in that and actually admitted it. But no way was she a slut. She'd been sexually active but who wasn't at college and she's come off a farm where copulation was regarded as a thoroughly natural activity. But a grain farm? Oh well, a farming community then.

No, Meg wasn't a slut. She had a lively mind and was enthusiastic but he doubted she was any more liberal about sex than she was about most things and the way she carried on with her friends and her parents' friends that he'd witnessed were consistent with the enthusiasm she'd display to him over sex and even when entering a lively bar scene.