The Farmer's Ball

Alys watched jealousy as her parents got ready for the bicentennial Farmer's ball. It was rare to see her father polish up except for weddings. Her mother slipped into a new dark red cocktail dress, gave a swirl, and asked, "How do I look?"

Alys grunted "OK" before staring at her phone. She never got an invite, this year or in previous ones. Her parents, as usual, fobbed her off with, "It's a grown-ups night, you can't go, you would be bored anyway." But she was 18 now and not a kid with a Disney view of a ball. Allegedly, she wasn't 18 when the invites were sent out, but to her, it was so unfair. she had just missed the boat and wasn't happy by a long shot. Nevertheless, she would have another year to wait if she was lucky.

The months pass as they do, and by the time the Farmer's Ball came round again, Alys had all but forgotten about it. But, that envelope sitting on the mantelpiece brought back memories of past rejection.

"Alys, we'd like to have a little word with you about the Ball". Alys didn't expect much, the usual rejection followed by stop your whinging. "Your name's on the family invite, but we think we need a little chat first. Have you heard any rumours about the Ball?"

Alys shook her head, she'd heard some stuff about wife swapping, but that came from Megan, who also believed aliens caused covid and toothpaste was a scam.

Her mother, Polly, continued, if a little hesitantly, " Well, it's called a Ball but there's not really any dancing, there's drink, cheese, canapés.."

"Oh, get to the point, woman," her father interrupted.

"Hmmm, well, there's kinda a more adult side to it than just cocktails and canapés, that's why you can't get an invite until your 18 and why we've been so secretive."

Her father chipped in, "What we're going to tell you goes no further ok? This is for adult ears only, so no posting stuff on Facebook or whatever you use these days. " He looked at his wife with those 'you tell her eyes' that men do.

"There's a custom that goes back centuries. At the Ball, you can't refuse anal sex. "

Alys burst out laughing, "C'mon, what really?"

"No, seriously. Any man can claim a woman and she has to submit to, well you know?"

"The muddy field gets a ploughing," quipped her father.

"You're having a laugh, right?"

Alys still didn't believe them. Her father tried to explain, "Back in more superstitious times, and I don't mean the 70s, people around here believed there was a spiritual connection. Hmmm, you know why we add manure to the soil, where manure comes from, and seed can mean both plant seed and semen right?" Alys looked confused. Who wouldn't be? "Well, back then, they reckoned anal sex represented ploughing a well-manured field and planting your seed. Having anal sex kinda guaranteed a good harvest. " By now, Alys was even more confused. Her mother stepped to the rescue before he made things worse.

"Your father's right; that's the story of how it started. But, over the years, it's become more a way of building relationships with other farmers than worrying about crops."

Alys paused, "You mean to tell me it's one big anal fuckfest because some crazy guy once thought getting his dick dirty would give him more turnips? Now, every woman's supposed to take it in the ass in the name of tradition?"

"It's a bit more refined than that these days; there's rules and etiquette. You don't just bend over the cheese table and grip the Stilton, " replied her mother, continuing,"It's not a wild fuckfest; it's more dignified. For a start, you only have sex once, you wear a flower in your hair until you've been picked. "

Her father, Sean, stepped in. "I'll get to the point; it's like a cocktail party, but if a guy cups his hand on your ass he claims it. You're expected to immediately leave with him, go somewhere quiet outside, and let him sow his seed in the rear field. "

"Your father's telling the truth, a man can claim any woman whether she's married or not. Not every girl gets picked, and some guys are just there for the beer, but there's always the possibility"

Alys still couldn't quite grasp it, or accept it wasn't bullshit "and husbands don't mind their wife having sex with some strange guy?"

"It's only once every two years, and he can pick another woman if he wants," she said, looking knowingly at her husband.

"It's not just husband and wives; sons and daughters can come too. Your name's on the invite. It's up to you if you come, we won't judge, but it's kind of expected if you know what we mean. "

"Not quite," replied Alys.

"Being seen at the Ball is a way of connecting with the community, showing your one of us?" said her mother."You know when people get jobs just because they belong to the right golf club? Well, it's like that."

"Me and your mother will be going as usual, and yes, we do do it. We'll let you have a think about it. "

Nothing else was said, but the invite propped up against a blue vase was a constant reminder as the days passed. She scoured the Internet, looking for confirmation, but not even the Ball itself was ever mentioned. Eventually, she plucked up the courage for a one-to-one mother-daughter talk away from her less than tactful father.

"What happens if I don't go?"

"Not much, but you'll be an outsider. A bit like the Bell family, moved here 20 years ago, but people still don't accept them. "

"But I was born here."

"Doesn't make a difference. It's just one of those things. Need your car fixed? Expect to wait a fortnight rather than a day for a slot; that kind of thing. "

"But anal? You actually do that for real? With whoever asks?"

"Well, they don't exactly ask; there's no discussion. You're standing there chatting about Mrs Brown's new hair colour, and you feel a hand squeeze your bum. "

"Like on that Japanese holiday, on the train?"

"Yes, but you don't slap them this time. He'll keep his hand on your bottom and lead you away. "

"Why anal though? I get that superstitious stuff, but why anal nowadays?

" Mostly because you can't get pregnant and anal isn't real sex, I assume you have done it." She knew her daughter had the usual run of boyfriends, and some had stayed the night. The nocturnal tapping of the headboard against the wall had long kept them awake.

"Anal? No just normal stuff. "

"Shame you're single; it helps if you get a bit practice in first. I'd fix you up with a guy, but there's no time. "

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"I've been ploughed more7 times than nine-acre field. Most women my age have, but it takes a bit of getting used to, if I'm honest. It's not unbearable, but it can be uncomfortable. Don't worry, they won't be rough; that's considered rude. So, are you interested?"

"Rude? You're already getting fucked in the ass"

"True, but if you visit someone's house, you still behave even if it's a cave."

"And every girl does it? I thought anal was rare?"

"Hell no, even your granny took part up until the hip replacement. Swore by a little bit of lard to loosen things up she did "

Alys already had days to think about it, but she still paused, "Aren't you uncomfortable with me coming?"

"We've had a long time to think about it; we wouldn't have told you about the invite if we weren't OK."

"But, Dad? I can't see him being happy. "

"Every father has to accept that one day some guy's going to bend his daughter over and fuck her ass, that's life."

The big night came, Alys had made her decision, put on a light blue cocktail dress, and was making the final touches. "You sure you're OK with this?" Asked her mother one last time as the taxi arrived. Her father was hard to read, was he worried, angry, or just looking forward to fucking another woman.

To the unwary the event looked like any other, people mingled, and caught up with people they hadn't seen in a while, Alys began to doubt her parent's story, there was no ass grabbing and the hottest action was seeing Mrs Jones cough on a jalapeño. Polly darted her eyes rapidly to the side, drawing her daughter's attention across the room. A guy had just broken the ice and became the first to claim a woman. He looked mid-40s, and she was a few years younger. With a hand firmly on bottom, he guided her away from her husband, across the floor and out of the door. People glanced but didn't stare. Her husband downed his drink and sought conversation with another couple.

Others followed, all the same procedures, a clasp, lead away only to return five to fifteen minutes later, looking flushed and slightly wobbly. It wasn't a grab all fuckfest, more a gentle trickle. Guys didn't march right up; more casually made their way over then planted a palm on the bottom. When her mother's turn came, it was at the hand of a younger man, why he chose her only he knows, but Alys watched alongside her father as he led her away. She didn't look back, just casually crossed the floor as if they were going outside for a breath of fresh air. People looked out of the corners of their eyes, curious as to who's doing who, but nothing was spoken.

"She'll be OK," said her father, but Alys couldn't help but think about what her mother was going through or what her father must be feeling. He tried to divert her attention by asking questions about her cocktail, but Alys's mind was elsewhere, namely, could I be next?

Her mother wasn't absent long, returning unscathed to the fold.

"That was quick," he quipped. "I've taken longer dumps."

"Poor guy, got the tools, not the talent," she replied.

Alys giggled; she'd known the dissatisfaction of two pump chumps. But still, a stranger had just taken her mother, and that felt odd. She wanted to ask so much, but in her father's presence, she felt unable. It was in this distracted moment that Alys's ass was claimed. A firm hand cupped her right buttock, Alys froze. No, it couldn't happen to her; she was an observer, a spectator, not a player. Reality quickly set in as her parents gave her a look that both said 'sorry' and 'go on then'.

The walk across the hall was the longest of her life. She felt every eye upon her, all aware of the fate that awaited. What must her parents think, why weren't they rescuing her? He was much older, mid to late 30s with a stocky build suggestive of a rugby player. Out in the garden, he asked her name.

"Alys," she replied quietly.

"I'm Dylan. I've had my eye on your ass all night; I was worried someone would beat me to it."

Alys was shocked by how openly and calmly he spoke on such matters as he guided her to a dark corner by the r. She wanted to tell him he was her first, but fear took her tongue. In the shadows, he unceremoniously stepped behind her and lifted her dress to reveal her white thong before letting it fall her legs.

He pulled out a small white pot, unscrewed the lid, and unbuckled his pants. A firm cock unashamedly sprang out. In the dark, it looked about average, perhaps 6 inches or just over. Alys was relieved; she had feared a giant rectum ripping cock. Taking a dollop of cream from the pot, he smeared a thick coating over it so it glistened in the moonlight.

"Bend over a little for me," he said as he hitched her skirt up.

She nervously obeyed and quivered as he pulled her panties down. Pulling her buttocks apart, he guided his cock to the hole "bend over more" gave a wiggle and, with one hand on his dick and the other arm tight around her waist, pushed. Alys yelped as he broke through; it was like being hit with a strong elastic band. He swung his other arm around and embraced her from behind, pulling her onto his cock as it slid deep inside.

A deep swelling filled Alys, the initial sting now replaced with a full swollen sensation. Dylan, if that was even his real name, a guy she'd known barely a few minutes was where no boyfriend had ventured. Her ass wanted to eject him, but he kept it firmly inside.

"Ohh, that's so tight. I was right to pick you, much tighter than my wife's. "

With that, he began to thrust; there was no slow build-up, nor was he aggressive. His thrusts were steady but deep and long, her ass taking his full length with each stroke. She struggled to make sense of the sensation. It was like riding a bike down a cobbled street or dancing when you desperately need the toilet, it was that bumpy rackety roller coaster. Uncomfortable yes, but not painful, so that was a relief.

His cock seemed to writhe like a snake inside her, each squelchy thrust felt weirdly pleasurable yet wrong at the same time, her head couldn't get around the strange contradiction. It was like eating olives, horrible but you want another and another. With each down stroke she craved the thrust that would once again fill her. His hand slid up her body cradling her breast, was this in the rules? She didn't care.

Grabbing his lower left hand she guided it down on to her damp pussy encouraging him to grind it as he thrust. It was too much for him, and with two final hard thrusts Alys felt him pump his seed deep inside. Slowly he withdrew, his cock exited with a plop and a trickle of semen ran down her thigh.

"Allow me" he said as he wiped it off with a paper tissue before polishing his cock clean.

Alys panted, her ass throbbed and felt' loose and shaky "Jesus Christ, I don't think I can walk"

Dylan laughed "cmon, I'll help you back to your mother".

Alys walked back to her family with the grace of a drunk wearing high heels for the first time. Her father was absent, Alys didn't need to be told why.

"Sooo, will you be coming back next year?"

Alys smiled, nodded and downed her drink.