Old Farmhouse - La Vielle Maison de Ferme Pt. 04

The long hot summer passed. Always so hot in le Midi, in the remote valley of Quéreur. Françoise and Léonie remained virgins, and so, for that matter, did Alain, but for all it was, perhaps, only just. A summer of pleasure, of heat and animal lust. But like the summer it could not last. Before the winter snows Françoise was sent away. Her bags packed almost before she knew it. Her father was not to be disobeyed. Not even time for one last visit to her farmhouse or to say au revoir to her friends.

The strange summer of discovery over. Leoni and Alain discovering their love for each other but so often in the company of a third. Françoise knew herself to be at least half in love with Alain but had resisted any thought of jealousy about her friend. Had she not enabled their ongoing meetings when she could so easily have met Alain at the farmhouse on her own again and again; who knew what might have happened then? In a way, that lovely afternoon when she had sat in that chair by the front bedroom window in her farmhouse -- she could not stop thinking of it liked that -- and experienced such an orgasm from the two of them working in concert was so much a symbol of Alain and Léonie's courtship. Their fingers together, almost as if holding hands, within -- very much within -- Françoise's sex. Their fingers entwined as they simulated a pénis. It was as if their love had blossomed within the confines of Françoise's thighs.

Three long years of study, at Paris so far away. Far from her farmhouse and her friends. A wrench, but so much to do and learn. She could not but obey her father. Finding herself a right 'country bumpkin' at first in the sophistication of Paris, yet anything but that by the second year. Her father expected her to return as a fine young lady, intelligent and cultured and he was not disappointed.

Not the impetuous girl of the fields when she stepped from the train at Narbonne. Nor riding with her father in his carriage, her long dress neatly spread and her parasol raised against a sun she had almost forgotten. Her father talking to her of local matters, so strangely provincial after Paris, almost humorous in their provinciality, almost a matter for contempt. He had wanted to make a Parisian of her, and he found he had got what he had sought. His daughter's conversation a world apart from his own.

So strange to return to her old bedroom and find it unchanged. The things of her girlhood, three long years before, still sitting there on shelf or chest. A grand diner to welcome her back. Had her brothers not grown? Fine young men. Sitting there in her fine dress, so fashionable, so à la mode compared to her mother's best dress that so betrayed her country origins and fashions long past in Paris.

The morning, though, saw Françoise dressed in her old gingham, Tissu Vichy, blue dress, cool and simple in the rising heat of the day. A day close to home but in the late afternoon, Françoise dressed formerly in her Paris finery and was driven with father, mother and brothers into town for a fine dinner at the hotel. Her father's friends were there, monsieur le maire and Françoise noted with amusement so, particularly, were the promising young sons of her father's friends. She very much knew what that was about. Her mother said as much.

It was the next day that found Françoise slipping out and up the hillside as she had done years before as a young girl, dressed in her simple gingham blue dress, ascending the hillside through the long grass. It was something she had not done in Paris. The glorious freedom of the open country and the feel of the grass and the flowers on her bare legs. Above her, as she climbed up and up, the old farmhouse came into view but not at all as she remembered it. The brambles were more than cleared: there was a working farm around the house and from the chimney the smoke of a kitchen fire; on the air came the sound of a baby crying. Françoise paused in astonishment, before resuming her climb.

"Françoise!" It was Léonie running down the hillside towards her, arms outstretched. "It is you!"

The two women met, kisses to cheeks and then to mouths.

"Come, come!"

At the door, the brambles clearly long cleared and gone, Alain was there, standing in welcome, his smile so lovely, to take Françoise in his arms and repeat the kisses to cheeks. Never before had Françoise entered the house by the door; and what a change inside. She had tried her best to restore some sort of homeliness to the farmhouse when it had been hers, but her efforts paled compared to what the couple had done. But that was not all they had done. In a cradle another occupant of the kitchen. A baby had come.

Upon Léonie's left hand a ring. Alain and Léonie had, of course, married. They sat at the table and talked and talked. They talked of the restoration of the farm; of the wedding and how they had missed her; of Léonie finding she was pregnant and the baby's arrival; Françoise talked of Paris and how big it was and grand. Such a world away from Léonie and Alain.

"You have done so much to the house. It is now so alive when it was just sleeping."

"Would you like to see upstairs, look out of the windows where we looked so often..." She had been there more than an hour already. Léonie smiled, an almost conspiratorial smile as she no doubt was remembering, just as Françoise was, back those three years to what had happened upstairs.

"Yes, I would like to see it all."

At the foot of the stairs Léonie paused and turned, a quizzical look in her eye. "We did not go upstairs in those days clothed, did we?" A laugh. "Perhaps we should not now." The young mother looked shyly at Françoise. It was an invitation.

Françoise's teeth came together holding onto her bottom lip. The thought of once again being naked in her house -- no, not her house but Alain and Léonie's -- was more than pleasing and what would ensue. She nodded. That would be good.

"Alain?"

A pause full of implication and promise and then the young man took the hint and began to remove his clothes. It was a joy to Françoise to watch. Such a fine young man, as she had always thought. She could but watch the revealing.

Stark naked with the two young women the young husband could not help erecting. It rose up right in front of Françoise, such a sight, the so remembered sight.

"You are as fine as always, Alain." And he was. So manly, so strong and so showing his fifth limb.

Her old dress pulled over her head revealing pretty and new -- from Paris -- underclothes. Léonie clapped her hands in delight.

"Does she not look a picture, Alain?" She would not let Françoise take them off at first and it was obvious Alain delighted in seeing her half undressed like that.

"Would you like to try?"

Again, more than obvious Alain delighted in seeing his wife in such flimsy finery.

"I shall leave them with you, Léonie. I have more."

"I shall keep them for special occasions and..." she paused and looked at her husband, "for Alain."

"La pompe à eau?"

It was, again, like the old times. Laughter as they doused each other beneath the pump; even the dousing in cold water did not affect the strength of Alain's erection.

It was like old times. The three of them back at the foot of the stairs, the three of them doused in water. Alain put his arms around the two women and led them, pénis pointing the way up the stairs, one step at a time.

Françoise clapped her hands at how pretty the couple had made the main bedroom. A bed, of course, now there, even with a counterpane but still the old chair and chest. Newly whitewashed, the lime sparkling in the sunlight where it came through the now re-shuttered window. The room had had a certain charm before, but that had really come from the bright sunlight through the window. On a dank, cold day it would have looked very different. Now it had a comfortable feel all of its own and Françoise said so.

"And the view is as perfect as ever. This so takes me back." Françoise stood at the window holding the shutter and looking out, feeling the heat of the sun once more on her naked skin entire. Behind her she felt a hand rest on her bottom cheek. Alain or Léonie? It did not matter.

She turned, the young couple were embracing, eyes closed, mouth to mouth. I was sweet. Françoise sat, rested her cheek on one hand, and just watched.

"We are forgetting our guest."

"No, no, I would so like to watch." It took her back, back to sitting in that very chair pleasuring herself and imagining, but now, before her, they young couple large as life -- and aroused. Wonderful to watch them cuddle on the bed, see Alain's lips close over Léonie's nipples; see their hands wandering all over each other's body and see Léonie grasp the pénis; so good to watch Léonie make her way down her husband's body, sucking his nipples along the way, before reaching the pénis; Françoise smiled as Léonie's lips opened and absorbed the big head, she even looked up at Françoise perhaps to gauge her reaction and nodded in approval at seeing her hand between her thighs.

"I don't like to see you sitting there alone. Come and suck too."

"No, no, I watch."

A shrug and Léonie's lips descended again. But then another invitation or rather an instruction. "Alain, take it to her."

It made Françoise weak at the knees. Had she not already been sitting she would simply have collapsed.

She watched the young man rise from the bed as he had been told to do and step towards her, his pénis pointing. So good, too, to see his balls swing as he moved. So good to reach out and cup those balls in her hand, stop Alain's progress and hold him -- and them -- at arm's length. "No, no, you are married. I watch."

"Françoise we don't mind. Non! We want."

But Françoise sent Alain back to the bed. "I want to see... I want to see you together. Properly together. Show me." Her fingers played as the couple embraced again. Françoise became more and more excited as it was clear the couple were, indeed, about to connect. Alain atop Léonie, her thighs spread. And so were Alain's spread within hers, with the clear intention of letting Françoise see the joining. Despite the hanging balls, half in the way, she saw Alain's knob nose in and touch. One push and it was obviously within.

Just so good to sit at her window -- no, no longer her window -- and watch the steady rise and fall of Alain's tight bottom; so good to hear above the sound of insects outside the sounds of their lovemaking and to copy the actions of Alain's pénis with her own fingers. How she wished, but that must not be.

She saw Léonie looking at her. "Will you now suck, Françoise, if I send Alain and his pénis to you?"

Françoise had wanted to before. She could not resist now. So good to see the young man rise, see the pénis pulled from the vagina and him once more advance upon her across the floor.

It was a particular intimacy and Françoise knew it. Intimate enough, the prospect of sucking upon Alain's pénis, the pénis of a married couple, but the more so when it was fresh and very wet from the wife's vagina. Standing, as he was, by the window, right in front of her, the light streaming past her head, Alain's pénis shone with Léonie's wetness, it had even run into the ridges and furrows of Alain's scrotum. The pénis was so big and enticing; juicy even. So good to see. It was as if Alain had gone downstairs and placed it under the pump, not the rest of his body, just his manly pénis and balls. How Léonie would love to have pushed the big, firm thing into herself. Her thoughts were of how lucky Léonie was to have such a thing -- and Alain -- in her bed each night.

"May I?" But she did not wait for an answer and her open mouth came forward. Léonie's wetness, Alain's smooth bulb in her mouth; her hand rising to lift the hanging balls. A perfect moment. She did not suck too hard or with too much enthusiasm. It would not do to make Alain come, but she certainly took as much in her mouth as she could, feeling once more its texture, its shape, everything about it.

It could not last. Alain needed to return to his wife. Françoise could not offer to let Alain enter her properly, however much she desired that: it was for Léonie. She watched Alain's bottom as he returned to the bed. So small, so tight. Perhaps she might go so far as to fondle that as the couple copulated.

"I really don't like seeing you sitting alone. Françoise, would you... it is something I have wanted. You so helped us, so helped us stay and be together. Please would you join us, not just come to our bed but I want you to put Alain into me."

Françoise heart leaped. What a thing to do. She smiled and nodded. She came across the room to the bed and sat on it by the couple. Léonie's legs were a little parted and she could see where she needed to put Alain's pénis. It was there for her to take in hand, all delightfully swollen and pointing up towards the husband's stomach. She reached and held.

"It would be easier perhaps if I..." Léonie was being practical. She got up on the bed and Alain followed, getting up behind her, the two of them on hands and knees. So good to reach with both hands, one to the pénis, the other under Léonie, cupping her hair covered mound, finding with her fingers the place she needed to join them. Wonderful to pull the pénis forward, holding it perhaps a third of the way down, fully sliding back the skin and then feeling the bulb reach the fingers of her other hand and using them to guide him in. Releasing the pénis she pulled back her hand and then placed it on Alain's buttocks, her fingertips half into the crack and exerted a little pressure to encourage Alain forward and she felt the rest of his pénis slide through the fingers of her other hand into his wife.

"Voilà!" She had done the joining. Françoise let go and sat back on the bed and watched the man push forward and the woman push back. Such a pleasure to watch the copulation. Of course it thrilled her. Her fingers dropped to her own sex and stroked.

"We should... Alain, we should make Françoise come first. Our guest should be first."

Alain paused, almost out of Léonie and Françoise stared at the revealed join of their bodies and marvelled that something so big could disappear into Léonie's body. What would it feel like? She did not hear what Alain whispered into Léonie's ear, but she heard her reply:

"Non! It is not for Françoise, she does not take the pénis... yet"

Alain looked disappointed but he must have known it could not be. Françoise smiled and said, "I am happy, I am content. This is all just so lovely. The sun through the window, this room, your lovely house (that was not easy to say. It had been her house) and you joined like this." She reached with her finger and tapped the exposed and wet shaft of Alain's pénis. "So lovely. Don't stop."

"Hold us."

Françoise reached, as Alain began moving again, and held. In her palm the husband's balls with her fingers pointing out along his moving shaft so her fingertips stroked the soft flesh of Léonie, back and forth with the rhythm of the man. She was holding and stroking their genitalia as they copulated; she was still doing it when they both came. So good to feel, so good to know. Feeling the couple shudder, hearing their gasps and moans but most especially feeling, under her fingers, the pulsing as Alain inseminated his wife.

The couple fell apart and dropped back on the bed breathing hard. Françoise placed her hand on Léonie's stomach and stroked. "Lovely," she said, "you are so good together." She reached across Léonie with her head and kissed Alain's pénis and then dropped between Léonie's thighs and kissed her entrance, tasting Alain's semen. "I love you both. I wish you many, many more children. How wonderful if," her hand returned to Léonie's stomach and stroked," if that very act brings another. Imagine that. Me here at its conception!"

She could have added, 'and felt the seed pass from Alain.'

Léonie sat up and kissed Françoise on her lips. "You are so good. Let us..."

Françoise was made love to. It was not Alain alone or Léonie alone but both together. Mouths to her breasts, mouths to her mouth, hands and fingers all over her body, very often together. She was very nearly there when Léonie said, "I shall do it. I want to do it and rolled Françoise onto her back and spread her limbs. "Come Alain." She had him kneeling either side of her head, his male genitalia hanging over her and then she placed her husband's limp pénis in Françoise's mouth. "Suck, take it all. Imagine."

And, as Françoise took the whole pénis, all soft and pliable, but still so manly, into her mouth, she felt her friend's mouth between her legs. Limbs outstretched, her hands opening and closing, her toes clenching, Françoise was made to come. It was so much being made love to not by one or the other but both as a couple. How good it was to feel herself shudder and shake as the waves of pleasure came, her tongue flicking at the maleness in her mouth.

A little sleep, three to the bed and then so good to watch Léonie feed the bébé. Her breasts used for their proper purpose.

"Would you like to try?"

So amusing, so rather wonderful to hold the little thing and feel his little mouth seeking and sucking hopefully, but pointlessly, upon her nipple. Perhaps one day she might have a bébé of her own. Who knew what the future held?

Good too, to walk out of the farmhouse, mother, bébé, Alain and Françoise all naked and stand in the shade looking out across the valley. Françoise turned and looked up at the old farmhouse, newly limewashed with ochre; perhaps it was time to go. It had all been so perfect.

Françoise looked back, walking downhill along the path as she had done so many times before. Sadness, regret perhaps, for what might have been. Good, in a way, to see the farm on the hill alive once more but no longer at all her secret home. Alain had lost none of his allure. Not one bit of it; such a fine young man and a father indeed; it did not surprise Françoise to find his seed had been fertile, nor that it had fallen on fertile ground. Françoise sighed, for all her new sophistication, for all the delights in Paris, she still harboured a special place for Alain. So lovely to see her friends, and see them so happy; so lovely to see them together, dear Léonie and Alain; so good to see the bébé, such a sweet dear; it had all been so lovely.

It was all, indeed, a romance; the coming together of young lovers against adversity and it had a happy ending: just not Françoise's own.

Postscript

And, indeed, Léonie did become pregnant a second time, very possibly from that very afternoon with Françoise and Alain in the upstairs bedroom. A little girl baby as a brother for Jean-Pierre, and it seemed only right to Léonie and Alain to have the bébé baptised 'Françoise.'