by Jess Bentley
And she always does it with a smile. She's always flirty, batting those dark eyelashes, willing to make a joke or sneak some sweet kisses among the leaves and apples. She's charming, I guess you could say. She brightens everything around her.
Until today.
She hasn't said anything, but I know the chat she had with her parents is weighing on her mind. Once they left, she seemed sort of quiet. She didn't want to talk about it. We continued the rest of the day, with Tim and Tom horsing around as usual, acting like jackasses to entertain her. She didn't dodge the work at all, but she was different somehow. Lost in thought.
I caught her eye a few times, waiting for her to say something, but she just smiled and turned away, going back to whatever she was doing.
At the end of the day, she went back to her cabin, alone, saying she was tired. It was Charlie’s turn with her, but he came back early, saying she'd wanted to be alone.
She's the same today: a little distant, a little distracted. She dumps the apples into the extractor for juicing and wipes her cheek with the back of her wrist.
“How are you feeling today?” I ask, taking her hand in mine. It's so small, it's like holding a bird or baby bunny.
She smiles, shaking her head lightly as if to clear it.
“I'm just fine,” she replies sweetly. “I guess I'm wondering… what do we do when the harvest is done? Are we almost through?”
Something about the finality of her question echoes in my head.
“Do you want to be through? Is the work wearing thin on you?”
She shrugs one shoulder, looking away.
“No, I'm just asking,” she says vaguely. “It's getting chilly out. I guess during the winter there's probably not as much to do, right?”
“There’s still a lot to do,” I reply. “There's always something to do, anyway. Once all this stuff goes to the bottler, we have to clean out the barn, get ready for next year. Start planning and of course there’s all of Charlie's business ideas…”
My voice trails off. The guys and I decided not to pressure her about Germany, but it still looms over all our heads. She hasn't decided, and somehow we can't decide either, until she does.
She drags her hand over the top of the stainless steel kettle, drumming her fingertips to make the vessel vibrate like a musical instrument.
“But what I'm saying is, like…” she starts again, discomfort playing in her voice, “like, you don't actually need me here, right? I'm probably more of a burden since I don't really know how to do anything, don't you think?”
My chest clenches.
“Vanessa? What is this about?”
She turns to me, her eyes shining in the dim light of the barn.
“It's just that… my parents asked me to go with them. To China. Primates, you know.”
“Primates,” I repeat dumbly.
“A new project,” she explains, shrugging. “My mom really prefers the primates. Prefers them to humans, is our joke. I've never been to China. Have you?”
“I've barely been out of the county,” I admit.
Her eyes widen. “Are you serious? But… did you go to college? Anything like that?”
I approach her slowly. I don't know why, but I need to be closer to her. She feels so incredibly far away.
“No, I think I told you. Our family has been here for a hundred years. We've been farmers this whole time. Charlie took some classes, but we've just been dedicated to the land, and to each other.”
“Oh,” she sighs.
“No, it's good,” I assure her. “I mean, this is the way we want it. This is the kind of life that makes us the most happy. It's just the kind of people we are. The kind of people… we hope you are too.”
She blinks several times. Her eyes are wet and liquid, filled with emotion.
“You think I am like that, too?” she asks in whisper.
“I hope you are,” I whisper back, finally getting my arms around her. She folds into me, forming herself to my body like she was meant to be there. I feel her tremble against me.
“Oh, I'm sorry,” comes a voice from behind me. Vanessa and I turn to see Charlie sheepishly standing by the barn door.
“No worries,” I tell him, without letting her go. “Do you need something?”
“We're just bringing in the last load,” he explains. “But it's not your turn, Stan. Tim and Tom are going to be pissed.”
“Actually, it is my turn, sport. Check the calendar.”
Vanessa giggles, burying her head in my chest.
“Don't fight over me, boys,” she chuckles. “There's of plenty of me to go around.”
“That sounds like a dare,” Charlie quips, wiggling his eyebrows.
There's a commotion at the door as Tim, Tom, and Hank all shove their way inside, hoisting a huge basket between them. They dump it into the macerator, grunting. I watch Vanessa's eyes trace their outlines and the way she bites her lower lip and draws in breath, and expression I've seen a few times before.
“Glad you're enjoying yourself,” I whisper in her ear.
“How could I not?” she answers, rolling her eyes. “I'm surrounded by a harem of handsome men. It’s every girl's dream come true.”
“You're our dream come true, too, you know,” I tell her.
She looks up at me finally, pressing her lips shyly. “Really? Do you mean that?”
“I don't know how many ways to tell you, Vanessa. Are you saying you're still not convinced? Is that why you want to go to China?”
“China? What's in China?” Hank interrupts, scowling.
Vanessa waves her hands and shoots me a look. “Nothing! It's nothing. We were just talking.”
“I hope you were talking about Germany,” Charlie says, closing in. “Were you? I mean, I know we’re not supposed to be pressuring you…”
“No, we’re not,” I remind him.
“Okay, but did you see the pictures? I mean, it's something out of the Sound of Music or something. It's really beautiful. You could stand on a hillside and yodel or whatever.”
“Don't pressure her, Charlie,” I warn him. “We said it was her decision, remember? No pressure. At all.”
“Fine, fine,” Charlie sulks.
Tim and Tom walk over, tugging at Vanessa sleeve to extract her from my arms.
“Well if we can't pressure you, how about a little coercion?” Tim croons suggestively. His fingers stroke the edge of her neckline, dipping between her big, ample tits.
“Yeah,” Tom joins in, getting excited. “Maybe a little seduction?”
“It's not your night, guys,” she scolds them, giggling. Still, I see her arch her back, sticking her tits out for their appreciation.
“It's my night,” I remind them. “And I don't mind one bit. I like to share, remember?”
“Fantastic plan,” Charlie agrees. He immediately falls to his knees in front of her and starts to unfasten her jeans.
Tim and Tom push her T-shirt over her head, freeing her bouncy, sweet tits and pushing her backward onto me at the same time. Seeing how convenient this is, I brush my hard cock against her ass, showing her how ready I am for her.
“See this?” I ask her as I thrust against those beautiful ass cheeks. “See what you do to me?”
Tim and Tom go to town on her, working her tits like kneading bread, biting and sucking until she gasps with delight. Hank approaches her with his dick out ready for her waiting hand. She starts stroking him immediately and pulls him closer, kissing him noisily. Charlie moans with his face in her pussy and punches me lightly on the hip. He's making room for me, letting me know that I can slide my dick in from behind, get her from every angle.
That's what we do. Everybody's got a little piece of Vanessa, and Vanessa shares herself generously. She opens her knees, angling her ass back toward me so I can fit my whole cock into that tight, grasping pussy. She sucks me in like a mouth, clasping that sheath over my shaft, milking the seed right out of me.
Just before I come, I im
agine how much of us is inside her. We've been saturating her womb with brotherly cum for a whole month now. Without stopping, every day, sometimes two or three times. She's probably as much a part of us now as we are. WE are all joined together, all linked in a river of white-hot life force. All of us together, soaking in that primordial fluid.
She'll see it, I know she will. Even if she's got doubts now, eventually she'll see it. Her fears will fade away.
It's nature. And there's no denying nature.
Chapter 18
Vanessa
The farm stand has taken on a life of its own. Now that it is autumn, everyone in the county seems to have gotten a sudden taste for homemade apple cider, apples off the tree, even the fairly expensive pumpkins that one of the other local farmers brings. The gravel parking lot is always filled with minivans and small family cars, overflowing with children.
Next to the farm stand, there's a hay bale maze, created by one of the neighbors. I watch kids from three all the way up to nineteen begging their parents to let them run around the confusing labyrinth of twine wrapped cubes, their voices echoing for miles as they squeal with fright and delight.
Cider came back from the bottler in half gallon jugs, and we can barely keep them in stock. There's warm mulled cider for grown-ups and kids, and even the few cases of apple wine being sold. It's about the most festive thing I've seen. Stan even seemed to enjoy himself, though he strikes me as the kind of guy who likes to not venture too far out in the public. But he enjoys watching other people enjoy themselves while sampling his family’s products, I guess.
Charlie, of course, is the ringmaster. He keeps going up to complete strangers, telling them what they should buy. Candles, cider, wine. He likes offering directions to the hay maze, telling them not to forget to look for pumpkins and other squashes on their way out. He's like the master of ceremonies, making sure people keep moving, keep having fun.
Margie even set up a table with her handicrafts. She makes needle points with floral arrangements in meticulous detail. I love looking at them, and sort of hate to sell them when people spot them from across the room. Each tiny embroidered scene must have taken hours upon hours for her to do. I want to collect them all, and keep them for myself. But instead, people just keep buying them, two and three at a time, even though they cost like fifty bucks each. She's made a killing today, that's for sure.
An older woman walks up to the display of needlepoint, her eyebrows arched. I watch her scan the shelves and then settle on a detailed scene with a golden retriever by a fireplace.
Dammit, I really wanted that one.
“Sixty dollars?” she says to herself.
I don't say anything, figuring she's going to decline and walk away.
But then she starts digging in her handbag, pressing her lips, wrinkling her nose. She pulls out three twenties all folded together and thrusts them toward me.
“Can I wrap that up for you?” I ask meekly, choking back my disappointment.
She squints at me, taking my measure.
“That would be nice,” she sniffs. “Are you feeling okay?”
I take the piece off the shelf and begin wrapping it in some tissue paper.
“I'm feeling fine,” I shrug. “It's kind of warm in here. Don't you think?”
“I suppose so,” she says uncertainly. “You look a little pink.”
I slap a smile on my face and hand the paper bag back to her, figuring that the best defense to her rudeness is a big, stupid smile.
“I always look like this. Have a great day!”
She takes her bag and shuffles off just as Charlie comes over to check on me.
“What was that all about?”
“She says it's hot in here,” I explain. As the words come out of my mouth, it does seem kind of stuffy. Kind of close. Charlie squints at me appraisingly.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Come on, not you too!”
He holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Okay, okay. Just checking. So, you doing all right? You need anything? Looks like you made a lot of sales.”
I dig a handful of bills out of my back pocket and hand them to him, along with the receipt pad.
“Yeah, I've swiped a few credit cards on the app too. Can you take all this? Maybe I should take a little walk.”
“Sure, baby,” he says in a low voice so no one else can hear him. “Don't get lost in the maze. I think there are a bunch of teenage boys in their waiting for unsuspecting victims.”
Checking for witnesses, I lean forward quickly and drop a kiss on his cheek.
“No worries. I've got the best protectors in the world. I'll holler if anybody gets fresh!”
Outside the farm stand, the breeze is much cooler. I feel that nip in the air that says that fall is really here. The trees have gone crimson and orange, and the deer have started appearing in the mornings looking for food to fatten up for winter.
Closer to the maze, I take a deep breath and am surprised to feel myself go a little dizzy. I reach out to a fence post to steady myself and stop, breathing evenly, wondering what the hell is going on.
The feeling passes in about thirty seconds or so, but what the heck?
“Oh, excuse me,” a woman mutters as her toddler trots past, dragging her by her hand.
She holds the Styrofoam cup filled with mulled cider away from her. The scent washes over me, and for a second it's too intense. I feel like I'm drowning in it, like it's punching me in the face.
“Okay, that's weird,” I say out loud.
Standing up straight, I just look around, waiting for the world to kind of settle down. My stomach feels weird, and I'm a little lightheaded, little woozy. I didn't eat breakfast, but I just didn't feel like it at the time.
Maybe I should have one of those donut holes we sell by the cider. That sounds good. Actually, that sounds amazing. Maybe with bacon. I wonder if I should jog back to the house and whip up some bacon before anybody misses me.
Whew. Yeah. Bacon sounds amazing.
I'm not usually hungry like this, not usually this frail. The last month or so, the boys have been giving me such a workout, I feel sort of invincible. Nothing can harm me while under their protection. And I've been stretched to my physical limits over and over again, rebounding like a champ and then demanding more.
They've awoken a hunger in me I never could have anticipated. Like opening a secret door, it must be something that has always lived inside of me but I never thought I could let out. A solid month of the most outrageous sex I ever could have imagined, and then some. Literally, weeks and weeks in a row…
Wait.
Weeks and weeks. Which means I never had to stop, right? Never had to explain to anybody that I had cramps, headache, or didn't feel like that day was a good day for. Sex. Actually, haven't had my period at all.
Haven't had my period since my dorm room, now that I'm thinking about it. Which means I'm late. Like really late, like…
Oh my gosh.
Holy cow.
Chapter 19
Hank
I stand outside Vanessa's cabin door for a few moments, just listening. It's still pretty early. We're used to it, of course. And she hasn’t complained, but I know the crack of dawn is uncomfortable for most people.
After a little while, I realize I don't hear anything. I sort of want to sneak in to watch her sleep. She's just the prettiest thing when she's sleeping, her hair fanned out all around her angelic face, her breath even and deep. Those nights where I've slept next to her have been some of my most enriching sleep ever. Sweet dreams change my attitude during the day. It's pretty nice.
Yeah, I admit it. It's really pretty great.
Quietly, I tap on the glass with my knuckle, then wait. The crickets are still chirping, and there's a distinct nip in the air. I think I saw frost on the grass, but that seems early. We should still have a few weeks before a hard frost actually settles in.
I tap again, a little louder this time. I'm sure
she's here. She's just sleeping.
A shadow moves behind the door, but it comes from the other side of the cabin, not the bedroom. I realize sheepishly that I've just disturbed her in the bathroom and sort of wish I could run away. But the door swings open and she smiles meekly, pushing her hair back from her forehead.
“Oh, I'm so sorry,” I cringe. “I didn't mean to disturb you.”
She takes a deep breath, flaring her nostrils.
“No, it's okay,” she sighs. “I'm up. Come on in.”
She shuffles toward the kitchen, dragging her feet a little bit.
“Vanessa, are you okay?”
She waves her hand in the air without looking back at me.
“I'll make you some coffee.”
I squint at her, trying to figure out what's wrong. Hung over? No… I can't remember the last time she had anything to drink. Whose turn was it last night? I know Tim and Tom can get pretty acrobatic in their expectations.
“I brought you some more blankets,” I call out toward the kitchen, setting them on the bench at the foot of her bed. Then I straighten up the sheets, tucking the edges in and smoothing the pillowcases for her. I lay the comforters on top, arranging it up all neatly.
“Well aren't you just the sweetest?” she smiles, shuffling back toward me.
She stands with her hands on her hips, the light from the window making her pale pink nightie almost transparent.
“You look gorgeous,” I breathe, shaking my head. “I'm sorry you're not feeling well.”
“Who said I wasn't feeling well?” she pouts.
“Well you just look… I mean, you look gorgeous, of course,” I babble. “There's just something… you know. Like, I don't know. I get the feeling you're not feeling well, is all.”
She raises her eyebrows at me.
“Which is totally your business, and not mine,” I finish quickly.
“Thanks for the blankets,” she replies curtly.
“Oh, those,” I say, glancing over my shoulder. “Stan just mentioned you might be kinda chilly out here. I should probably show you how to use the potbellied stove too, unless you’re familiar? Or, we’ll all keep it stoked for you. We know how to do it. We'll keep the cabin toasty warm, how about that?”