Muller Farms

Iris loved everything about fall, the cooler temperatures, returning to the neglected parts of her closet, and all pumpkin spice lattes. Everyone knew, so she'd been put in charge of her office's annual Halloween party. She really wanted to make it special this year. The office didn't need another buffet table covered in plastic clamshells of frosted pumpkin cookies with an Elvira cardboard cut-out. She wanted a sensory experience that wasn't fake gore but looked back to the holiday's pagan roots of harvest and death.

A friend had suggested rural Muller farms for their corn maze and pumpkin patch to harvest the things she had in mind. She loved driving with the windows rolled down and the music blaring. Arriving nice and early on this glorious Saturday morning checking in at the farm store took no time. She got a maze map and one of those adorable Red Rider wagons she hadn't towed around in years. She and the wagon dove into the maze.

To her surprise, the air got still and close immediately in the maze. She shed her sweater and regretted not wearing shorts. She owned a pair of extremely short jean cutoffs. She should have paired them with her ropers and red socks, and the outfit would have screamed horny farm girl. That's how she felt on this lovely day. She hadn't met anyone new in weeks, and the chaffing between her thighs had nothing to do with the stray cornstalks that brushed up against her occasionally.

The maze was filled with corn still beautifully green. She needed dry, brittle, and dead-looking stalks for next week's party. She kept going and saw some yellow stalks lining the fence where the irrigation sprayers had missed. Not wanting to give up her decorating vision, she grabbed her shears and dove into the corn.

If she had thought the path was stifling, being in the stalks was doubly so. Panting and distracted when she finally reached the edge of the field, she was extremely surprised to see a gorgeous hunk of a farm boy leaning against the fence rails. Farm boy was a loose description because this hunk of a man could have stepped out of any country and western song video.

"Why hello there. I'm Sam, Sam Muller. My dad owns this farm."

Suddenly self-conscious, Iris noted her flushed cheeks, panting gulps of air, and the wetness of her jeans, which she could now tell wasn't all sweat.

Caught off guard, she stammered, "I'm Iris. It's a lovely place."

Sam beamed. "Can I show it to you?" He effortlessly vaulted over the top fence rail to stand very close to her.

"Sure." She swallowed and thought that sounded so ridiculously female and nice, and contained none of her hot and bothered real-life feelings.

Sam swung one arm up over her shoulders in a friendly, easy way and pointed towards the main farmhouse.

"That's our house." He said pointing to the Victorian era farmhouse, that like everything else about this place, seemed fairy tale perfect.

He spun her slightly towards the barn. Without a hint of irony, he pointed towards the big red barn saying, "That's the barn."

And then he used both hands to spin her so they were facing and he finished with, "And you've met me and the corn."

While hardly enough spinning to make Iris dizzy, between the heat, the cicadas, and the amazing male odor coming off his white t-shirt, she was feeling more than slightly off-kilter. She placed one hand on his chest and said, "Could we sit down for a minute?"

Iris felt disarmed by his boyish charm and his earnest, "Yes ma'am." She'd always been a pushover for a gentleman.

She sat down with Sam beside her and surprised herself by leaning forward and kissing him playfully on the lips. He grinned, "My, oh my."

He kissed her back, this time parting her lips with his tongue.

Reeling a little less, Iris asked Sam, "What do you do for fun on the farm Sam?"

His broad smile got decidedly less boyish and he replied with, "Let me show you."

He reached down and peeled his t-shirt off. His broad muscular chest was definitely a bit of farm real estate Iris wanted to explore. Iris eased back into the soft black earth and his hands kneaded her breasts until he popped the edges of her bra down, and exposed her nipples to the steamy sun.

The fresh air made them extra sensitive. He bent over and started to toy with a nipple with his teeth while he pinched the other, being totally fair in his attentions. Meanwhile, her hands were grabbing furrows of muscle in his broad back. She found it very hard to control her voice to ask, "Well this is lovely. Anything else you do for fun?"

He looked up at her with that beaming grin to answer, "Oh yes ma'am."

Rather than getting offended, she was beginning to love being called ma'am. He lowered his attention to place kisses one at a time down her breastbone, navel, and then stopping at her belt. He lifted himself back up into a high kneel to undo his belt buckle and then the rivets of his dungarees one at a time. Iris realized she'd never used the word dungarees before and marveled at today's city girl firsts.

She mirrored his actions by undoing her own belt buckle and pulling the thick leather belt through her belt loops. As it slipped through the last loop it made a leather thwack sound from the friction. Iris got her own grin when he laughed and winked at her.

She went further than him and shifted her weight to pull her jeans down below her hips. He joined in by undoing the laces on her ropers. He grabbed the bottom of each pant leg and smoothly removed her jeans.

This time he asked the question, "Ma'am, this looks like an even better time. Can I show you how we plow a field on this farm?"

Iris had never had such formal teasing despite such casual sex and she couldn't believe how turned on she felt. Something about his mannerisms or the setting made all this seem natural in a way that fast hookups at bars never did.

"Yes. I'd love to see that done," she replied as she arched her body towards his.

As he efficiently removed the rest of his clothes, without surprise Iris noted his cock was just as All-American male as the rest of him. As he entered her, Iris moaned but had no regrets about the pause in their witty banter.

As polite a lover as he was in everything else, he rode her fully attuned to her status. He didn't get stuck with the throttle on, pounding away. Nor did he get distracted by anything outside the furrow he was plowing. Iris realized in her increasing excitement her hands were no longer squeezing his buttocks but had moved to her own nipples.

Breathing heavily now, Sam had closed his eyes. Iris moaned and bucked against him. Grabbing him she exploded in a huge orgasm that surprised her in its speed and intensity. He came at the same time of course and collapsed on top of her as she embraced him. She had to admit he had some skills at farm life.

They put their clothes back on in companionable silence. Iris wasn't sure what to say so she stuck with the obvious.

"I came to the farm today for some cornstalks."

Sam clearly made everything easy, so he replied, "Let me load those up for you."

She cut what she wanted and Sam scooped everything up easily, walking the short distance back to the wagon.
"Thanks for showing me the farm Sam."

"Yes ma'am," was all he said with a slight duck of his chin, and he turned back into the corn stalks.

She and the wagon started back towards the entrance to the corn maze.

"Thanks so much for coming," The woman at the register said cheerily as she handed Iris back her change.

"This was perfect. I really appreciate it, and be sure and tell Sam how helpful he was for me. I've never had such good customer service, and I'll be sure and be back."

"Sam," The woman's expression changed to confused.

"Oh, you must mean Pat. He's the man you saw out there driving the tractor for the hay bale rides. Sam was my great uncle but he died during WWII. Grandpa missed him so much he put that plaque out under the flag pole. Easy to get confused," she finished with a reassuring smile.

As Iris opened the screen door and walked out on the porch, she glanced over at the flag pole. She felt chilled from head to toe and her involuntary shiver had nothing to do with the breeze or the cloud that momentarily blocked out the sun.