Darrell Gold walked from the kitchen to the front door and looked though the screen at the cloud of dust that was rising from the road. Grabbing his handkerchief from his back pocket, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and then squinted. Through the afternoon haze and the wavy heat waves he could just see the black vehicle as it slowed and turned in through his gate.

"Damn, so soon?" he muttered, kicking open the door and stepping onto his porch. As the car got closer he sat down on his wooden rocker and began creaking back and forth. He could hear his wife bustling about inside the house now and figured she spotted the tell-tale dust trail.

"Is it...," he heard her mutter inside the screen door.

"How in the hell am I to know?" he replied. "Just get in there and wait for him to get up the drive."

A bright light flashed in his eyes and he quickly held up his hand, blocking the sun as it reflected off the windshield of the foreign car. The black car now looked about the color of rust, the dust coating every inch of it. When the car slid to a stop, it through up a dusty cloud and the reddish powder seemed to drip off the dull chrome.

Darrell watched as the door opened and a short man climbed out of the car. He had an odd happy bounce to his step that made Darrell want to drag him back and forth across the rotting wood of his porch. Instead he simply continued to rock in his chair as the man took the three steps up onto the porch and moved toward the door.

Quickly jumping up and positioning himself between the man and the door, Darrell put his hands in his pockets and growled, "Are you the one?"

"I am," was all the man said as a condescending smile ever so slowly crept onto his face. He continued to smile until Darrell stepped back toward his chair.

"Sally, he is here," he cried out to his wife. He then stood motionless as his wife, wearing a new dress and make-up, for Christ's sake, sauntered up to the door. Darrell watched her push it open and reach her hand out to the man. When the man extended his hand to her, she took it without a word and led him into their bedroom.

Darrell looked back up the roadway and watched for a few minutes as the dust clouds continued to settle, coating everything in sight in a brownish red. Looking upward, the sun seemed almost brown in the haze, but wait, there in the distance was there a hint of white? He squinted his eyes and then shook his head, "No, just another mirage," he figured to himself.

Sally had asked him to wait on the porch, or even better, go on out and work on the barn, or the tractor, anything to keep his mind off of things. He looked down at the chair, over to the barn and then to the dust covered car parked in front of his porch before he opened the screen door and stepped back into his house. The door to the bedroom was closed but he could hear everything that was going on inside. Moving over to the couch he sat down, turned a bit to the side and then moved his face close to the wall, where he could peek through a crack in the plaster and look into the bedroom.

His wife was already on the bed, and for someone who complained to him that she didn't want to do this, she sure seemed ready and willing, actually reaching out and taking hold of his erect cock. She began stroking it and running it over her tiny breasts. The man reached down and pinched a nipple, but quickly lost interest and ran his hand over the ripples of her ribs, over the sharp angle of her hip and through the curly patch of hair between her legs.

He began to move up between her legs, but she held his cock firm, stroking it faster and faster until he grabbed her skinny wrist and pulled her hand off his cock. Kneeling between her legs, he leaned forward as he guided his cock toward her pussy. It took a few moments for him to finally work it in and Darrell could hear his wife whimper as the man grunted and thrust himself forward.

Darrell then watched as the man's ass flexed and he began moving back and forth, sliding his cock in and out of Sally's pussy. After a while she seemed to respond, moving her hips up to meet each of the man's thrusts. Gritting his teeth, he moved a bit to get a better view of his wife's face and watched as it contorted with the pleasure.

"Damn it," he moaned to himself, "don't do it, don't you come." But in spite it all, he watched as she wrapped her legs around the man's thighs, arched her back and then moaned loudly. Darrell felt his hands begin to tremble as he watched his wife orgasm for another man.

When Sally came, Darrell could see a surge of energy shoot through the man and he could see the pace quicken as his glistening cock slid in and out of Darrell's wife. The man arched his back and screamed out, "Oh yeah baby, I'm gonna come inside you."

"Fuck," Darrell muttered, knowing the man screamed like that so, no matter where he was, Darrell was sure to hear. He jumped up from the couch, walked over to the hutch near the kitchen and pulled out his hunting knife. "Yeah, this is one goose I'm gonna gut from cock to throat," he whispered.

He was about to burst into the bedroom when he looked out through the screen door and froze. Turning his back on the bedroom door, he wandered to his screen door and stepped out onto his porch. There was a cool breeze that kicked up a lot of dust, but there in the distance he could see the dark clouds.

Sitting down on his rocker, he grabbed his handkerchief, wiped the dust and sand out of his eyes and stared as the clouds continued to build. After several minutes Darrell heard the screen door open and turned to see the man step out onto the porch. Smiling, the man nodded his head and then walked down the porch steps as Darrell looked down at his knife and then back up at the man. Darrell sat in silence watching the man waddle out to his car, climb inside, start it up and then begin to back it up the driveway.

By the time the car made it out to the road the rain had started. Darrell simply rocked on his chair until his wife appeared at the door wearing only her robe and asked, "Is he gone?"

"Out on the road now," he replied.

His wife then stepped out onto the porch, slipped out of her gown and stepped out into the rain. The dusty ground quickly turned to mud and sloshed over her ankles as she stretched out her arms and let the rain cover her. She then squatted down, caked her hands in the mud and spread it over her bony arms, as if scrubbing herself with soap. He watched her stand up, noticing how her ribs formed ripples down her back, ripples that dripped with the rain.

Standing up, he carefully held his knife as he opened the screen door and stepped inside. As he returned his knife to the drawer in the hutch he heard his wife call out, "It did rain, it really did."

"Yep," he muttered, "it did rain." He sat down on the couch, peeked through the crack in the wall and wondered if he could ever sleep in that bed again.

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