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On the Farm, I Must Obey Him6:17 amSweat has seemingly begun to overflow from the very freckles on my skin and down the valley between my breasts. My curly red hair has begun to stick to the back of my shoulders from the moisture. I don’t know if it is anxiety or the temperature. It is still early morning with the sun just peeking from the flat horizon of endless fields of stunted grain stalks, but the summer air was already baking the parched earth, making it difficult to grow anything on this farm.Perhaps it is this agricultural-crippling heatwave that made the farmer seek solace elsewhere. He was more aggressive and zealous than usual. It is this that had me perspiring until my soaked, rugged shirt shrivels into my body from the excessive wetness as if it were painted directly onto my torso.As the sun continues to ascend, I know that it means a long day of chores and grueling manual labor is about to commence, but not before the farmer could indulge in his morning pick-me-up. It is better than coffee to him. I can hear his heavy footsteps clunking along the creaky wooden steps up to my quarters which has me sweating even more bucketfulls on my already stained bed sheets. And I must obey him.The farmer fashioned this room for me, situated on top of the barn which had really just become an old tractor shed and graveyard for useless rusted shovels and tools. It is a barren loft with nothing more than a mattress and frame, dresser and side table topped with mismatching candle holders. The walls, floors and sloped ceiling are all made from the same drab reclaimed wood, complete with the red and white paint chips from whenever it was painted last. It is a mere 20 foot walk from his separate, low prairie-style farm home which kept it convenient for the farmer. Despite my second story quarters facing the property’s curved dust road that lead from the highway to here, it gives us all the privacy he ever needed.The farmer finally conquers the dilapidated staircase to reach my room, still wearing the same overalls and dirt marks from the day earlier. I know what he wants, he knows what he wants, but his face maintains its calm and still expression. He pauses at the entry way, staring at me as I sit timidly on the bed, attempting to look away and out the window into yonder. He then walks toward me, simultaneously sliding off one shoulder strap and then the other.The farmer pauses once more when he finally reaches the edge of the mattress, looking down at me to study my figure. Despite his blank emotion, I know he was admiring what the climate was doing to my presentation as my wet shirt wrapped snugly around 32DD breasts before tapering into a very slim and tiny waist. Trickles of sweat continues to travel along the length of my pale legs, exposed from just a pair of my frayed denim short shorts. I feel so tiny before him, barely standing 5′ tall compared to his tall hulking figure.The farmer grabs me firmly by my upper arm, leaving a whole clay handprint on my tricep. He turns me around until I face the window again, and situates himself behind me. From behind, he reaches around to lift my shirt up, leaving it scrunched up just below my armpit and collarbone. My full breasts bounce upon being released by my tight drenched shirt, flicking off some of the sweat that had pooled at the center. The farmer then proceeds to unbutton my shorts, tugging them and my panties down just to the knees until they become cuffs that tie my legs together. He doesn’t bother removing everything off; he wants to be quick before he begins his farm work for the rest of the day.There I kneel on the bed, naked from the chest to my knees with the farmer behind me. I don’t say anything. I don’t do anything. I must obey him. Without looking back, I can hear him wrestle with his own pants button and zipper. He frees himself below the waist when, with some assertion, he presses his strong hand against my upper back until I am now bent over for him. He doesn’t kiss me. Or rub me. Or embrace me. The farmer simply clasps me by the hips until the span of his long, coarse fingers nearly envelops my tiny waistline. He pulls me in as he moves forward. Then I feel it. First, just the very tip as it simply presses against my labia. No matter how many times, no matter how often, it always feels alien to me as if it were the very first time. I want nothing more than to mentally retreat. Then, it finds its mark, the head of the farmer’s cock inserting into my hole. Finally, he commences. He fucks me.Those are the three steps: Undress. Penetrate. Fuck. All ideal notions of intimacy and romanticism most young girls my age fantasize about no longer exist. I must obey. Even if I were to leave this very farm, I couldn’t make it far through the desolate sprawls of uninhabited flatlands. I have to take it. I take every last inch deep inside. The farmer speeds his thrusts until my entire body is pushed forward. His massive cock stretches every wall of my cunt. And then he pounds harder. And harder. Soon, we run out of space as he then presses me up against the window, maintaining his speed and power until my pale asscheeks grow red from the constant slamming of his waist. My own neck and chest sweat begins evaporating, fogging up the glass panes as my bare chest is pressed up against the window. My erect nipples are pushed back in, my entire round breasts and handprints flatten against transparent glass as I am violently fucked from behind. There isn’t another farm or neighbor for 40 miles in any direction, but I still feel the humiliation of being exposed to the outside world as the farmer uses me at his will. All there is outside are sandy gusts of wind and a few domesticated livestock, but I imagine everyone watching me at the window of the barn being fucked as if I were a slut at a sideshow. I must obey him.The farmer is of little words, but he now becomes expressive in his grunts. He wants me to scream too. He wants me to moan like him. And I do. I begin to wail as he continues ramming my pussy from behind. Nine inches of cock out, nine inches slam back in. My legs begin dripping even more, this time from the fluids of my cunt flowing out and trickling down my inner thighs. A second feels like an hour. A minute feels like eternity. With wobbly knees, I can barely remain kneeling upright, using the window I am smashed up against as a crutch. “Please cum soon,” I repeatedly plead in my head. I don’t know if I’m directing it to the farmer or to myself. We’re both soaking wet from fucking in the summer blaze, the excessive moisture creating a sloppy wet sound with each plunge of his dick. It’s followed by the incessant smacking sound of his ballsac swinging to and fro’, striking me on the clit repeatedly for added sensation.Mentally, I don’t want to enjoy this. I have been trying to retreat elsewhere upon first penetration. But my body is overwhelmed with sensation. Pain, pleasure, euphoria, agony. Nine illegal bahis inches of hard fat cock throttles my inside with little regard. By the time the farmer is finished with me, he tosses me into bed dazed and confused. I am unable to catch my breath with eyes rolling into the back of my head. Everything gets blurry, then black. Complete darkness.7:09 amI awake once more after fainting from being fucked relentlessly by the farmer. He is no where to be seen in my barn quarters, but I’m still laying on the bed, naked from my neck to my knees with my shirt still rolled up and my shorts pulled down. I notice about 8 or 9 long and wide globs of shiny, thick white cream messily plastered along my bare breasts. I wasn’t even conscious for the farmer’s cumshot. I’m still breathing deeply, feeling each gelatinous stream of semen ooze and drip as my chest expands from a deep inhale before descending with an even deeper exhale. I don’t clean it off of me, instead simply pulling my t-shirt down to cover the cum while pulling my shorts back up. I’m already late to my chores for the day. I have a lot of field work to do for the farmer. I must obey him.Wearing the same sloppy shirt and shorts from before, I limp down from the barn, moving tenderly after being fucked by what feels like a freight train. I don’t bother with boots. It’s one of my few pleasures here to feel the texture and warmth of sun-baked earth between my toes. It is common to be barefoot out in the country. As the farmer tends to the field, my job is to tend to the anima!s. I carry relatively heavy bags of feed back and forth. I play tug of war with the bulls to move them from one pen to the other. I return with heavy drums of water to clean. All of this is hard work. But it keeps me fit, lean with a desirable figure for the farmer.10:47 amThe farmer wants a quick break after grueling work that will probably amount to little pay. I hear him summon me from grain fields. There is only one more cattle pen to finish tending, but I immediately drop the grass bundles and water. I must obey him. Now.I find him casually leaning over by using a hoe as a crutch, sipping on collected water he pumped from the antique rusted tap. It looks as if he stopped right in the middle of his work, but wanted me nonetheless. Right here. Outside. In the middle of the field with stalks that rise only knee high, leaving us no legitimate cover. He tosses his mug carelessly to free his hands, using it to once again pull off the straps of his overalls before yanking down his trousers.Not flaccid but not yet erect, it looks as if his dick has been preparing for me nonetheless. He has no tan lines, his waist and thighs almost as rouge and sun-burnt as his shoulders, reminding me he’s exposed his lower half outside often.He orders me closer. I must obey. Upon reaching him in a sheepish walk, he places one hand firmly on the top of my shoulder. I could feel the years of labor on his hands, rough enough to strike a match on his palm. With some f0rce, he presses down until me knees naturally bend, falling into a kneeling position right there in the middle of the field. My knees dig into soft earth, my bare toes bury until I feel cooler sediment below.I still hesitate. I always hesitate. “Open your mouth,” he says very calmly but still authoritatively. I do. I must obey him. My quivering lower jaw slowly budges open which gives the farmer his queue to insert his cock all the way in.Despite being somewhat soft, its thickness fills every cavity of my mouth and jabs at my tonsils. I can taste the long hard labor on his shaft, an unpleasant mix of salty and bitter sweat, grime and loose soil. I have to clean it. I must clean it. The farmer wants me to swallow his member even further. He runs his strong hands through my frizzy red hair until he secures the back of my skull. He pulls it in all the way until my lower lip presses against his equally soiled and sweaty ballsac.Kneeling in the middle of the grain field, my face locked in deepthroat, I could feel the farmer’s cock grow right in my mouth. Soon, he is fully erect, which makes it difficult for me to get my mouth even halfway down the length of his dick. That doesn’t stop him from trying as his hands continue to pull my face toward him until I gag, my pale green eyes watering like an over-flooded sink.I struggle to please him. But I know this pleases him. So I continue. I know he likes this. I know he likes it firm. Despite the assault on the back of my throat, I know the farmer likes it firm. As best as I can, I clamp my lips around the circumference of his cock, dragging them tightly along every single vein on his shaft despite it choking me. I know the farmer likes it wet, so I intentionally slobber on it until the sides of my mouth foam with spit and bubbles.Every so often, he gives my throat a break, to which I use that opportunity to nibble on the sides of his cock or run my tongue along the underside of his shaft, making sure that it is clean. And soon enough, it is clean. All mud, sweat and oil removed, replaced with nothing but the slick shiny layer of my saliva that sparkles in the sunlight.But my work is not done. The farmer prods my lips with the head of his dick to inform me to open it again. He shoves it back in. He secures the back of my head with both of his hands this time. He thrusts. He humps. He fucks my face. I tell myself we are near the end, but it is the most difficult. He gets more zealous, pounding away at my mouth so hard that it rattles my head making me feel concussed. The farmer looks down at me. He can hear me gag. He can see my eyes flow. But he goes faster and faster.It’s not a question of whether or not I can do it. I have to do it. I have to take all 9 inches of him in my mouth and down my throat. I must obey. Finally, he cums. His cumshot is the most difficult. He jams his rod as deep as he can, and holds my face there. His twitching cock only adds more irritation to my throat as he pumps load after load of hot seed into my esophagus and down my belly. I don’t taste it. I can’t taste as it is lodged so deep. But i can feel it. Warm little gooey spurts striking my throat as the farmer groans up above. One more shot of semen, one more shout from the farmer and he finally releases my face.Dazed, he stumbles two steps back. I tumble backward from kneeling, my backside planting into the loose soil as I try to gasp for air. Satisfied, the farmer simply lifts his trousers, grabs his hoe and walks off into the distance to continue tending to the field. I idle, sitting there on the ground in the middle of the field with a belly full of cum, doing everything in my power to compose myself to continue with the rest of the chores for the day,.12:45pmI have finished tending to the barn anima!s, I turn my attention toward the farmer’s prairie home. I play the role of homemaker, cleaning up after the farmer in his modest little home. I sweep the illegal bahis siteleri floors, tidy the kitchen, prepare his lunch as he continues his fruitless work in the grain fields. He finally enters looking for the meal I have cooked for him.My anxieties return. He sometimes likes rough afternoon sex. I’m still very sore from this morning. I stay close just in case he beckons, but silently prays he is too busy. Fortunately, he treats me with a mild neglect, finishing up his food before departing to go back to the rest of the farm.I exhale. I still have much work to do, but the hardest of tasks seems to be behind me as the farmer seems satiated for the day.6:57 pmThe low sun casts a vivid orange sky that fades into darkness beyond. The livestock have been tended to, the house has been cleaned, the harvest has been collected and stored and I have finished the prep for tomorrow’s cycle. My muscles ached, my heart beat like morse code and my clothes were coated with both black and brown earth throughout. The day of work is winding down. I want nothing more than to eat my supper in my room to the view of the sun setting across the lowlands. I’m tugging and untangling the last of the irrigation hose when I hear the commotion from the pig pens. It just occurs to me that I left the young male boar out of his enclosure which has stirred the other female pigs in theirs. I sprint to the pen, corral the boar into his pen, fastening the makeshift lock with aluminum wire and hemp rope. I go to the corner of the old wooden barn to collect more hay to lay down on the freshly cleaned pens, careful not to step on any mud puddles or wet pig feed with my bare feet.I exhale, and wipe the accumulated beads of sweat from my forehead with the exhilaration of knowing the full day of work is finally completed.I quickly turn to dash toward my own barn residence only to abruptly collide into the burly chest of the farmer. I hadn’t heard him approach me from behind. I awkwardly stood before him, having to bend my neck all the way back just so that I could look up to stare up at his face. He looked down at my diminutive self, flashing a rare but slight emotion like that of sinister eagerness. I thought my day was over. But I soon put it together that I was wrong. I ready myself for the farmer’s next request. Will he bring me to his home to have one more session for the night? However, he doesn’t inform me. He doesn’t say anything at first. He just continues to stare down at me with growing enthusiasm. Does he want me in my barn loft? Maybe he wants to do it in the fields again under the beauty of twilight. He once had me suck him off under the lone cottonwood tree for acres. Perhaps there?But there we stand among the noise for the rambunctious pigs. In that span of silence, the sun had just set behind me, but the farmer planned ahead with just a dim lantern on hand. Finally, the farmer moves. With his right hand clutching the lantern, he grabs me with his left and spins me around. He begins to push me, in between an audacious shove and a suggestive nudge, to guide me toward the hay pile from whence I just came. “Here? Why here?” I question to myself, knowing better than to question the farmer aloud. Still, I must obey.When I reach the pile of hay, I feel the pressure from the farmer’s hand on my back relax. I keep my back to him, focusing only on the small pile of golden strands that nestles on top of what would have just been more dust and exposed earth on the corner of the barn. The farmer gently places the lantern down on the ground, careful not to upset the small fire that it houses. He takes no delicacy with me, using his now free hands to f0rce me onto the hay pile until my wrists and knees are buried in straw.He tears off my clothes completely, my arms flailing as he maneuvers the garments from my limbs before tossing them into an adjacent pigsty to float in more mud and droppings. I am now completely nude, my pale pink skin matching that of the hogs next to me.Why here?As I lay on all fours much like the livestock on the farm, he mo!ests me from behind, using his abrasive hands to fondle my large dangling breasts before moving down my sides. His coarse hands pass my navel then move further south. They do not reach my pubic mound however, veering off to the sides to run along my hips and then my buttocks. There he palms each round cheek, rotating them in circular directions opposite of one another. I could feel the pads of her fingers dig into my soft mounds.The farmer is different. He is methodical in his handling of me. He wants something. Something more than usual. I must obey him.He firmly parts my asscheeks. A gust of warm air blows through the open air barn and brushes up against my naked body. Like a metaphorical epiphany, I feel the summer wind cascade along my buttocks and tickle the very rim of my anus. I know what he wants now. We have never done this before. I begin to tremble with apparent trepidation. But I must obey him.I gulp as I hear the rustling of the farmer removing his overalls. It won’t be long now. Then I feel the first prod of the head of his cock on the tiny wrinkles of my asshole. I instinctively lean forward into the hay to escape, but he pulls me back to try again. I feel the tip of his dick press in between my asscheeks once more, still unable to break through. It won’t fit there. It can’t fit there.”Please no. Please don’t,” I repeat in my head. They come as far as being lodged in the throat, but I never actually mutter them. I must obey. The farmer is persistent, but I still attempt to tell myself that it is impossible in my mind. I just close my eyes. He pulls away temporarily, but I hear him hock back and spit for reasons I did not understand. I feel his rod poke at my rear orifice once more, this time with a wet slippery sensation. It works. The added lubrication allows for just the tip of the farmer’s cock to squeeze into my hole.I immediately cringe. It was but a mere half inch, not even the whole head, but my anal virginity was gone. I pucker up. His cock is stalled once more. However, he takes his thumb, places it on the ridge of his cock’s head where it meets the shaft, and presses it forward. His cock’s head now disappears into the depths of my sphincter. Still an inch, yet I feel the shame of being violated in the livestock pen, the malodorous fumes of pig man.ure enveloping the hot night air. It hurt in more ways than one.The farmer slides in further. Now two inches. But it is more than enough for the nerve endings in my rectum to fire every which way. It is more intense than any penetration I have ever had. I give him slight whimpers, careful not to express any disobedience. But he is not done.The third inch seems impossible. But he pushes it in slowly. Very slowly as if to tease me. It is only a fraction of his entire shaft’s length, but well past my threshold. I begin to whine, emiting a humming sound canlı bahis siteleri to signal my surrender. I have had enough. I can’t take any more.The farmer proves me wrong. Four inches. Four inches inside my ass. I felt the farmer struggle with that last push into my asshole. It is tight. Perhaps too tight. Even for the farmer.Less than halfway in, the farmer acknowledges his limitations and ceases to penetrate further in. However, he came for anal sex. Even as I felt the relief of his cock exiting my rear hole, I knew it was going right back in. And when back in, he moves it faster than his last penetration. The speed makes it worse. I have to bite my lower lip to keep from screeching at the top of my lungs. My hands clutch tightly, grasping only loose clumps of hay. My toes curl inward so tightly until they begin to cramp.The farmer fucks my ass with just half of his dick, but all of his effort. I could feel the wrinkles of my ass drawn out with each retreat of his dick, and pushed back inside itself with each plunge of his cock. The reaming persists for mere minutes, but feels like an eternity. But with each passing second and with every f0rceful thrust, I could sense the farmer’s confidence growing.The farmer reaches over to grab a healthy clump of my curly red hair, tugging it back like the reins of one of his horses. This f0rces my lower back to arch, but my rear end to rise for the farmer. I have no wear to go. He jams in one more inch than before. The constant reaming has given him more room to go deeper, harder, faster. His cock is more than halfway in my tight poopchute.He wants it all, slipping a full 6 inches inside until I can no longer hold back my cries. I don’t know if it’s the length or the girth inside my anus that is worse. I don’t care. I simply begin to cry out with only the pigs to hear me, my squeals for mercy matching theirs. My body violently jerks forward with every powerful pound of his into the center of my cheeks.By the time the 7th inch of his cock pushes into my asshole, my extremities give way, f0rcing me to crash belly down on the pile of hay. I collapse entirely, but the slope of the haystack is still enough to keep me bent over in an optimal position for the farmer to hump in and out of my ass. I’ve pinned myself between the compacted hay and the weight of the farmer on top of me as he now plunges his cock downward into my defenseless ass.This position allows him to get 8 inches into me. Just an inch more, but I find myself begging for only 7 inches. Perhaps 6. Anything but the 8th inch that fills my anal cavity airtight, stretching it every which way as it slides in and out. I can’t take it. Please. Please stop. No more.9 inches. Balls deep. My boar-frightening moans and resounding shrieks have turned into exhausted grunts of submission, now overshadowed by the CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, CLAP of the farmer’s waist violently crashing into the mounds of my asscheek. He doesn’t just want to get all of his cock in me. He wants it to stab right through me. He had little concern that I was an anal virgin just 19 minutes ago.There is no where else to go. He can fit no more in. So he antes up by going faster. Harder. Stronger. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP in and out of my rear chute. He was loving every moment that his enormous shaft went all the way in, before coming all the way out and sliding all the way in again. All 9 inches. He was loving ever moment of it.Yet the strangest phenomena is beginning to occur. I am cumming. It hurt. It hurt every nerve around my anus stretched for the farmer’s pleasure. It is agonizing to have the insides of my rectum rearranged by a cock that does not belong there. It is humiliating to be nude and filthy on the barn floor in front of lowly swines, being fucked in the ass raw at will by a man I must obey. But I like it.I begin to moan. The farmer starts to smile. He never shows this much excitement. He removes his cock from my rectum. The farmer flips me over until my back now rests on the hay. He wants to see my orgasms as much as he wants to hear them. He doesn’t waste time. The farmer jams all 9 inches of his hard cock back into my anus.Twilight has taken over the farm. It is just the purple haze of the sky with the first few stars breaking the monotony. It is dead silent for miles and miles. Except for the barn. Except for us. Except for me screaming like a happy whore as I get pounded anally.The farmer clasps me by the back of my calves, bringing them up and forward until my knees press against my ribs. My brown stained feet dangle helplessly in the air, flinging off mud and pig grime from the middle of my toes every which way. My large supple breasts continue to bounce which each thrust into me from below. I run my hands along the farmers thrusting waist and hook him around his lower back. I’m pulling him in. Pulling him deeper. Deeper into my ass. 9 inches of his fat cock isn’t enough.The farmer is about to cum. He pulls out of my ass, but he is clumsy as he tries to stand. I do the work for him, grabbing his spasming cock and tugging it much like the irrigation hose until he falls forward into the hay. He lays there as I lean over on top of him, quickly taking his cock into my mouth, not caring where it had just been.I don’t need his hands on the back of my head. I jam my own throat down on his cock. I don’t need him to fuck my face. I do it for him. He begins to cum, short but thick loads fill my mouth. I continue to suck him regardless. The farmer is losing it. He wants me to stop. I don’t obey him. I keep sucking him, tasting both his semen and my ass together. He is writhing in my mouth, but I continue to disobey, creating an even stronger suction until his jizz is siphoned into the back of my mouth and swallowed.He nudges my head back, finally revealing his cock from my mouth. It is messy, covered with spit, sperm and who knows what else. It twitches from overstimulation, trying to catch up. I’m not done with it. The farmer is weak. He can’t even stop me as I mount him once more, sliding his exhausted cock back into my ass. It glides in nicely due to the slickness of spit and his own cum. He writhes more and more as I bounce my ass on top of his dick, the heavy thud of my asscheeks striking his lap once again scaring the pigs.The farmer can’t take it any more as his eyes roll into the back of his head. Soon, he is lifeless on the stack of hay as I resume anally riding his cock like a true country gal on a horse. I confirm that he has fainted, removing his sloppy cock from my ass once more and return it to my mouth. I clean it. I clean it again as I have a million other times. But it tastes better right now. When his soft clock is removed of all fluid or sediment, I softly kiss its head goodnight as the farmer remains asle.ep in the barn.9:58 pmI have to drag myself to my barn room, my body feeling utterly spent and used. There is not a region that doesn’t ache. But I finally reach my bed crashing into the sheets, not bothering to clean off the dirt, sweat or semen collected on my skin or clothes. I need to get my rest. For tomorrow is another full day of chores I must do for the farmer. And I can’t wait. I can’t wait to obey him.by cornball
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