Serving It Country Style

My old buddy Daniel grew up on a farm and learned about sex from observing the animals. He learned that animals fuck: there is some preliminary ritual and then the male sticks his penis into the female, it's something both male and female want but the male wants it more, and when the male is done that's the end of it. Sex did not have any deep significance for him, it was just part of nature. Though he was religious he perceived himself as a member of the animal kingdom, and as such he expected sticking his penis into a female to be a straightforward part of normal life.

His wife Rachel also grew up on a farm and learned about sex from the animals but she took away a whole different lesson. She interpreted sex as a kind of irresistible force of nature that made you do wild irrational things. It did not seem to be important who the partner was, or what kind of behaviors were enacted, or what kind of fences had been erected to keep individuals separated. Sex, for Rachel was a portal that opened to a universe of unlimited freedom and pleasure. Rachel was a seeker of the ecstasy of letting go with another person or persons, escaping from time and the constriction of mortality, taking risks and daring herself to try new things just to see what will happen.

Daniel did not understand women or his relationship with them, and he had a unique way of blowing things out of proportion. He and I would be out doing something and he might exchange a few words with a cashier or waitress, and then for the rest of the day he would be tense and uptight thinking that he was going to have an affair with her, worrying about how complicated it would make his life. In truth the cashier forgot him as soon as he was out the door, but he imagined that somehow she had become obsessed with him, maybe like some kind of Fatal Attraction thing. This kind of weird worrying kept him from straying much from his marriage, and discouraged an experimental attitude. He liked to go home at night and bang his ol' lady, and she seemed to put up with it, and that was enough for him.

Maybe his naiveté explained how their marriage survived. His wife was smart and world-wise and she ran circles around him. Because he was so tangled up in his conscience and his misconceptions about women, his lovely wife was able to get away with murder. She flirted and joked lasciviously around him, and he shrugged it off as a quirk of hers, and life was good.

Over the years I had seen them having sex a number of times, camping or partying -- neither of them had a big concern with privacy or sexual shame -- and they had been in the room when I was with various girlfriends. Sometimes we would cheer each other on, laughing and having fun; none of us was self-conscious about it. They would sometimes bet sexual favors in our card games after a few shots of booze and I would watch them pay up, and if it was especially good I might pull my dick out and jack off, watching. Nobody minded. Their married life followed from their beliefs about sex, and it all seemed natural and fun. Afterwards Daniel would talk about those times for weeks, for instance the time he fucked Rachel over the arm of the living-room chair after beating her in Blackjack. Driving around doing stuff, he talked to me about how her pussy felt and how good it was shooting a big load of cum into her for losing. Sex was just another topic, like the weather or something for him.

How did I end up part of this? It's a long story involving a divorce and a not-exactly-successful career leap, and they took care of me in my hard times and I helped them out and we became almost like family, so I got to study their relationship close up. She teased him in subtle and sometimes outrageous ways, and sometimes I joined in. Typical example: one night the three of us were playing cards, nothing serious, some variation of war for three players, but we were using an old Swedish porn deck that Daniel had saved in the back of his sock drawer for many years. Each card had a picture on it of some guy with an outlandishly big dick doing something to some whorish looking woman wearing a ton of makeup. When we would throw down our cards, Rachel would frequently say, "Ooh, I like that one," or "Wait, let me look at this one for a minute."

We were drinking tequila and the conversation pretty much had no limits to it, as usual. She would comment on a card, and I would sometimes say, "Which card is that?" and she would hold up the one that had caught her eye. Daniel showed little curiosity but I would ask "What is it you like about it?" And she would try to embarrass us with answers like, "That guy's dick is huge. Just the way I like them." Having been naked together many times we all knew that neither of us guys was in that league, she was just fucking with us.

As the game slowed to a close, I said to Daniel, "Rachel here seemed to enjoy this game."

Daniel said, "I don't know why."

I said, "I think she likes the cards."

She was grinning at the two of us. Daniel said, "I don't see what she likes about them. It's just some old porn."

"Well," I said, "It looks to me like she likes the cards where the guy is cumming on the lady's face."

She laughed and clapped her hands. "Uh huh. You noticed."

Poor Daniel looked confused.

"Does she like it when you do that to her?" I asked him.

"How would I know?" he said. "I never did anything like that."

"Well, you should. I bet she'd love it." She was smiling hopefully at him, but he was already thinking about something else.

I was pretty sure she'd love it. Quite sure, in fact. Because I came all over her face a couple of times a week, every week. Of course her husband didn't know that. He probably suspected I was fucking his wife but it didn't much seem to matter to him as long as we were discreet about it. It fit his barnyard perspective of sexuality and he didn't dwell on it. Even if everybody knew, we just acted like it wasn't happening. And then it wasn't a problem.

The story went back. A couple of years earlier there had been a party, a bunch of neighbors got together for drinks and cocaine and by the end of the night everybody had passed out except for Rachel and me. We were sitting on Lisa and David's living room couch, with every table-top covered with empty bottles and glasses, bodies sprawled snoring on the floor and in every chair, and Rachel said, "I want to blow you."

I didn't know her very well at that time. I was friends with her husband and so I declined, but she applied some pressure. She told me she had wanted to do this for months, she dreamed about blowing me, and now that we had a buzz together and it was a perfect opportunity, she wanted to suck my cock right now. The more she talked about it, and also her hands were swarming over my body, the more it sounded like a good idea. Eventually, sitting on the couch with maybe eight people crashed in the same room, I pulled down my pants and she knelt between my knees and took my dick in her mouth and it turned out she was amazing, even when she was wasted. She had big full lips and used them to caress the tender shaft of my penis in a loving way, and gave no indication of having any gag reflex as she took my entire cock down her throat, sucking me with long full strokes down her gullet. I was sitting there nearly in tears with the intensity of it, and as she introduced her hand to the process, jacking me off while she sucked me I got closer to the edge and suppressed a shout when I erupted a gallon of thick happy-goo down her throat. She swallowed me deep and sucked up every drop, then looked up at me and smacked her lips happily. Luckily I remembered to pull my pants back up before I passed out.

The next morning everybody was moving slow. We needed some bacon for breakfast and I volunteered to run for it. Rachel said, "Hey, hang on, I'll come with you," so the two of us hopped into my little car and toodled off to the Safeway for some bacon. I parked and she said, "Wait a minute. I want some more of this," and she had my dick in her mouth in seconds. Sucked me off in a busy parking lot, nobody paid any attention. I zipped up and we bought a couple pounds of bacon and returned to the aftermath of the disaster where people were still waking up, and we had a fantastic breakfast. Daniel was awake when we came in, Rachel gave him a sweet kiss and he did not notice that she tasted like cum.

Rachel was a good-looking country girl. She tended to wear peasant blouses and usually a long, flowered skirt, and rarely any underwear, either bra or panties. She tied her black hair back most of the time and the only makeup she ever wore was red lipstick. She had black-rimmed glasses that were so unfashionable that she looked like she must be a Hollywood starlet or something -- a normal person could never have pulled that look off, but there she was, radiant and magnanimous with her energy.

She had a lot of women friends, in fact I often had the sense that she had organized a kind of local underground women's mafia or sexual-freedom rebel movement. Rachel was pure mischief and she brought it out in everyone around her. I believed, and still believe, that she was responsible for bringing the extramarital-affair rate up significantly in our town, encouraging women and also men to act on their fantasies. Not just encouraging, but Rachel would act as an agent, helping to arrange rendezvous locations, providing alibis, distracting unsuspecting spouses. She and I got together often but it would be just like her to suck off some mechanic or plumber, or someone she noticed walking down the street, minutes after doing me. Just for the fun of it. I never heard of her doing anything like that, I am just saying -- she probably did. I have sometimes wondered how many of us she might have had.

Rachel loved cum, bless her heart.

We developed a fine tradition. Her husband would run out on an errand and she would call me. I lived a few blocks away. She'd say, "Daniel's gone for twenty minutes, get your ass over here." Because I had become a family friend, it would not be suspicious if I was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee when he came back, but it was better it I was gone by then. I would come in and Rachel would squat in front of the kitchen sink. I would stand in front of her, bracing myself on the countertop where I could see out the front window, and she would unzip me, pull my cock out, and do the most wonderful things to it.

She loved to swallow my load, and had a kind of trademark way of smacking her lips when she was done, smiling up at me. She stayed with it to the last drip, often giving me one last pump with her hand to make sure she didn't miss something. But about half the time, maybe more, she would get me to the point of no return and pull my cock out of her mouth and spray my semen all over her face. I loved looking down at her, watching her as she turned her head this way and that to make sure she got it everywhere. If Daniel had not pulled up yet she might stand up and kiss me with her face covered with gobs of jizz, running her tongue down my throat, being sure to smear a good amount of my own cum on me -- did I mention she was mischievous?

It often happened that I would be watching out the window while she blew me, and I would see her husband's car coming around the corner. I could see him about half a block away, and he would have to slow down, park in front of the house, and walk up the driveway before he came in. As soon as I saw him, I would say, "Here he comes," and Rachel would double down. I don't know how she did it, but she could make me cum in a few seconds if she wanted to. Sometimes she would make me shoot, swallow it all, pour me a cup of coffee, and the two of us would be sitting at the table gossiping when he came in the door. It was not unusual for her to open her mouth when he was looking the other way, to show me that she still had my cum on her tongue.

At other times I would give the "Here he comes" and she would go to town on me and shoot my goo all over her face while he was parking in the front of the house. Then while he was getting out of the car and heading up the driveway, I would zip up and buckle up and plop down at the table while she rubbed my cum into her skin with her hand. Her cheeks, forehead, nose, were gleaming with it and by the time Daniel came in the door, the most you could think is that she had been sweating a little bit, maybe washing some dishes in hot water. She would go over and give him a nice wifely kiss, rubbing her cheeks against his playfully, sometimes winking at me while she did it.

He ran to the hardware store once and she called me. "Hurry," she said on the phone. When I came in the door she turned away from me at the kitchen sink and pulled up her skirt and said, "Quick, fuck me in the ass." She leaned over the counter, offering her asshole to me. "Use this," she said, handing me a pump-bottle of hand lotion she had set on the countertop before I arrived. "Just fuck me, and fuck me hard." Well, what are you going to do? I was erect in a few seconds, lined up my pecker with her pucker and gave a push, and like magic my fat dick sank into that tiny opening. "Oh, good," she said after a gasp, "That is perfect. Now fuck me hard." I began thrusting and she pushed her bottom back at me, meeting every thrust with a thrust of her own, taking my cock to the base, banging against me with every stroke. I could feel the snug ring of her sphincter squeezing me, stroking me in that special way as my penis surged back and forward into her. She began moaning and her hips were twitching involuntarily when we saw Daniel's car coming around the corner. "Fuck me!" she shouted. "Fuck my ass! Fuck it hard! I want a big load of cum in me, a huge load, come on, quick fucking around -- give it to me!"

I obliged, ramming my cock into her while she writhed against me, leaning over the counter. I filled her intestines with my sperm, gush after gush, as he parked the car and the door opened. His legs came out and touched the ground as my testicles emptied into his wife's anus, and then he unfolded from the front seat and stretched his arms, looking at the sky, evaluating the weather. He shut the car's door and began strolling toward the driveway as I pumped my last drop deep into her. She was moaning and grunting with my cock buried to the hilt in her as he walked toward the house. When he opened the door and came in we were sitting at the kitchen table having coffee and joking about the time Little John had run into his girlfriend when he was on a date with his other girlfriend. Daniel joined us for coffee and filled in some details about that story that we had forgotten.

It is possible that, if Daniel was savvy enough to take a hint, the two of them could have had the hottest, most passionate marriage ever. His wife loved a good sexual adventure, loved to break the rules, and she gave him that message in dozens of ways and he was oblivious. There could have been other things as well, those cashiers and waitresses, women he was afraid of who worked in public places, would have been in-bounds, for instance. Think about it, Rachel would have loved to watch Daniel banging the local store-clerk. In fact, she almost certainly would have wanted to join in. He could have had a fantasy life. But they worked it out a different way. Daniel had what he wanted, a wife who was always agreeable to let him fuck her, and Rachel had what she wanted -- constant opportunities for sexual adventure.

One time I was in a restaurant with some friends, several couples, and I excused myself and left. As I got to the door, Rachel and her neighbor Georgia were standing there, having just paid their bill. Rachel took my arm and said to Georgia -- who I did not know -- "Hey, look at this guy, let's take him to your house and sandwich him."

I had never heard that term, and I don't think Georgia had, either, but I followed them to Georgia's house and we got naked in her bed for several hours of pussy-eating, fucking, cocksucking, face-sitting, one-on-one and two-on-one and one-on-two in every combination you can think of. It was endless, completely unfiltered sexual excess, a writhing pile of human flesh, each of us indulging every wild impulse. Everybody did everybody, up one side and down the other. I learned that the two of them had never been together. Rachel had just been shooting her mouth off, voicing her own ridiculous fantasy, but she made it happen and all three of us had the most wonderful time.

The fair came to town, and I went to it with Daniel and Rachel. They liked to see the tractors and the animals, and I liked to see the teenage girls in summery tank-tops and short shorts. Those two loved the scary rides and so as we hiked through the midway I stood safely on terra firma watching them fly around waving their arms in the air and screaming. After some taunting and persuading they finally convinced me to go on the ferris wheel, at least.

The line was long but it moved pretty well, and the two of them started flirting and teasing about fucking up there. I did sound like a good wholesome fantasy, sex in a stomach-churning stop-and-go flight high above the fairgrounds, but I did not think Daniel would ever do such a thing -- he would like the fucking but the risk-taking aspect did not usually appeal to him. Still, it made for fun conversation as we made our way to the front of the line. This ferris wheel was the kind with enclosed baskets for the passengers, surrounded with steel mesh. There were two seats in each basket, for four people. But of course we were only three, so the two of them sat on one side and I sat across. Honestly, these things scare the shit out of me, I was only going along to be sociable, and because they had teased me mercilessly about being a big pussy and a city-boy.

We were swept up from the surface of the earth with a jolt, and within seconds Rachel had her hands on Daniel's belt. He was looking out as we ascended above the town and didn't notice at first. "What are you doing?" he asked her, as she unsnapped his jeans.

"I'm going to fuck you," she said.

"You can't do that," he said.

"Why?"

"Somebody might see us."

"They can't see us in here," she said.

"What about The Doctah sitting right here?"

Rachel looked at me. "Doc, do you mind if we fuck while we're up here?"

"That's what I'd be doing if I was you," I said.

She had Daniel's pants down near his knees as she leaned over to suck him to hardness. He had a longish, thin penis, and he was about halfway ready before she started. She looked across at me after a few seconds, holding his stiff erection in her fingers: "Hey, look at this, Doctah! You think he's ready, or what?" And she laughed a big lustful belly-laugh.

I knew her well enough to know that she was wet and ready. She was wearing one of her flower-print skirts and she scooted over to sit on Daniel's lap. She lifted the hem to her waist playfully so I would have a good view, and I watched as she lowered her snatch down onto him while we sailed ever higher into the sky, pausing every few seconds to load passengers at the earth's surface while we swung in space, rocking on some sort of swivel. She took him in one thrust and he closed his eyes and groaned. Then she began pumping her pussy on him, rising with her knees slowly and then settling onto his lap, grinding for a few seconds, putting on a show for me as much as she was enjoying her own pleasure. I could see her fluids coating his shaft.

"This is too much," I hollered across the noisy gondola. "Would you mind if I jerk off while I watch?"

"That is an excellent idea," Rachel said. Daniel's eyes were crossing as he slowly grasped what I was saying and nodded. I unbuckled my belt and slid my pants down. My cock was already hard and it stood up like a tree-truck. "I wish I could help you with that," Rachel laughed, "But I'm married to this guy." She flipped her thumb over her shoulder toward Daniel, who was sitting on the steel bench behind her, grinning stupidly.