Instead it’s me who gets the surprise.
There’s a photo of him with another woman. I recognise her from his office party, I’d thought she was shy and had tried to talk to her, but obviously her reluctance to interact was due to nerves of another sort.
The photo shows her sucking him off.
Nate sits down opposite me.
‘So what’s the big surprise?’ he asks, grinning broadly as he eyes the gift wrapped box.
‘I went for a boudoir photography session to get you some sexy photos done,’ I say, as his smile gets broader.
‘But …’ I continue, reaching for his phone before he can stop me and displaying the photo. ‘It seems you have plenty of sexy photos already.’
‘It’s not what you think,’ he starts, but I hold up a hand to stop him. I may not be technologically minded but even I can understand the little numbers at the bottom of the screen show the date and time it was taken.
I stand up and lean forward to kiss him on the cheek as I tell him, ‘it’s a shame, because you really would have liked seeing them.’
But not nearly as much as I liked making them.
Farm Hand
by Lucy Felthouse
As Ramona made her way down the gravel track, she spotted some farm buildings. Glancing down at her map, she nodded. Her route would take her right through the farm yard and then the public footpath continued over a stile into the adjacent field.
She just hoped she didn’t meet any hostile dogs. Or geese. She shuddered. Geese could be vicious creatures.
As she drew closer to the yard, Ramona could see someone hefting bales of hay off a truck. She sighed with relief. At least the farmer would be able to control any unruly animals.
As he turned to place a bale on the ground, Ramona saw the man in profile. He was younger than she’d expected. Much younger, in fact. As his powerful body moved beneath his clothes, Ramona watched, open-mouthed. All thoughts of scary dogs and geese were erased from her mind. She was still drawing closer to him, though her steps were stealthier now. Ramona didn’t want him to know she was there just yet. She was enjoying the flex of his muscles far too much to want to disturb him.
By now, Ramona was close enough to make out his features. Mmm, she thought, he is absolutely not your typical farmer. This guy is hotter than the surface of the sun.
Stopping, she stood at the end of the lane, still within the cover of the trees and hedges lining it. The farmer continued working, his big body heaving the hay around as though it were feathers. It didn’t look as though anyone else was around. He unloaded the lorry without pausing. The only telltale sign of his exertion was the sweep of his sleeve across his forehead, mopping up the sweat that threatened to trickle down his face.
Ramona was in danger of some trickling of her own, only much lower down. Then, just as she thought she’d better get on with her walk, the farmer stopped. Ramona froze, thinking he’d seen her lurking in the shadowy lane. He hadn’t. It appeared the beating sun and his workload were getting to him.
Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he tugged it up over his head, then balled it up and tossed it into the cab of the truck. Ramona suppressed a lusty moan. Hotter than the surface of the sun had been a completely apt description.
The farmer’s long lean body tapered down into narrow hips, from which hung loose combat trousers. They were slung so low that she could see the line of dark hair running from his bellybutton southwards.
Completely oblivious to his appreciative audience, the farmer carried on with what he’d been doing. Now he was moving the bales into a nearby barn. Ramona drank in his every detail: the dusting of dark hair on his broad chest; his muscular arms; handsome face and ohhh – she bit her lip as he bent over – his tight arse.
Any minute now and his wife was going to come out with a cool drink, Ramona was sure of it. There was no way a man this attractive hadn’t been snapped up. She waited. Nobody came.
By now, she was getting really rather agitated. Her lusty behaviour meant the gusset of her knickers was wet. It stuck to her skin, and her pussy ached. She stuffed her hand between her thighs and squeezed them together, hoping the friction would provide some relief. It didn’t.
Across the yard, the hard-working hunk wiped his brow again, then glanced at his watch. A surprised expression crossed his attractive features. Ramona checked her own watch. Lunchtime.
There were only a few stacks of hay left sitting on the concrete to be taken into the barn. Ramona could see what was going to happen. He was going to put the last few bales away and head in for lunch, leaving her there, insanely horny and with no chance of relief. She wasn’t even half way through her walk, so it wasn’t as if she could rush home to stroke herself to climax.
Ramona’s brain whirred, flicking through a multitude of devious plans, none of which seemed plausible. The sweaty sex god was now walking out of the barn once more, having deposited his last load. He moved in the direction of the farmhouse.
Ramona’s hormones took over and forced her brain into a quick – probably quite reckless – decision. Stepping out of the shady lane, she pretended to turn her ankle and went down with a loud yelp, her map slapping down on the concrete next to her.
Turning at the sound, the farmer couldn’t help but see her hunched on the floor, clutching her ankle. He ran over, muscles pumping and flexing as he moved. Ramona swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth. She was going for damsel in distress, not drooling mess.
‘Hey, are you OK?’ Stupid question aside, the farmer’s deep, seductive voice made Ramona hot. She wanted him. If he turned her down for whatever reason, then fine. She’d just have to go home and wank herself silly. But she was going to give it her best shot.
He crouched beside her, hands already reaching for her “injured” ankle. He wore no wedding ring. Adrenalin pumped through Ramona’s body and her heart fluttered in her chest. Then she mentally shook herself. That didn’t mean a thing. He probably didn’t wear it for work in case he lost it. Or perhaps he had a girlfriend, but wasn’t married yet.
When he touched her, Ramona’s brain promptly disengaged from that thought process.
‘Ooh,’ she moaned, then remembered to sound uncomfortable, rather than aroused, ‘ouch. I turned it on a stone or something.’
Long, skilful fingers gently pressed and prodded. Even through her thick walking socks, she could feel the power in his hands. Dirty thoughts raced through her head. Thoughts about what else he could do with those hands. And fingers.
‘Do you think you can walk?’ he asked.
Ramona glanced doubtfully at her ankle, lips twisting in a wry grin.
Grabbing the discarded map and passing it to her, he said, ‘Take off your backpack and hold it.’
At this point, she’d have run naked round the yard if he’d asked her to. Slipping her arms from the thick straps, she stuffed the map into a pocket of the bag, then clutched it to her chest.
‘OK?’ he said, crouching beside her. ‘Ready?’
She nodded and he slipped his arms beneath her, lifting her like she was a bag of sugar. Ramona was pressed against his firm body, which was still slick with sweat. As she slipped her arm around the back of his neck, she decided she thoroughly enjoyed being a damsel in distress. Of course it helped that her rescuer was totally gorgeous.
The farmer’s thick dark hair curled into his neck, just millimetres from her fingertips. She barely resisted the temptation to plunge her digits into the sweat-soaked strands and pull his lips to hers.
As he carried her towards the barn, she frowned. Catching her expression, he said,
‘It’s closer. Plus there are no doors to contend with. I’d just like to get you into the shade and look at your ankle properly.’
And I’d just like to get you naked and look at your cock properly, Ramona thought. Biting her lip to prevent a smirk, she blinked as they were suddenly swallowed into the shade of the barn.
Her knight in shining armour, obviously knowing t
he layout of the building like the back of his hand, didn’t break stride. He propelled them deeper into the relative gloom, then made a beeline for – perhaps unsurprisingly – a stack of hay.
Bending carefully to grab a sheet from a nearby workbench, he gingerly gripped it in his fingertips, careful not to drop Ramona. Then, moving to the bales, he said, ‘Can you stand on the other leg for a few seconds while I put this down? Hold on to me if you need to.’
He lowered Ramona gently to the ground. She frantically tried to remember which ankle was “affected” so as to put the correct leg down. As her weight rested on the leg, she put her hands on his waist to steady herself as he spread the sheet over the hay.
Ramona was disappointed when he said, ‘OK, sit down.’ She’d been rather enjoying the hard, damp planes of muscle beneath her fingers as she held onto him.
She sat, wondering what he’d do next. She certainly hadn’t been prepared for him to walk back across the barn, stick his head out of the yawning expanse of door frame, look from side to side, then drag the door closed. Her heart raced. What the fuck was going on? She started to panic. Had she been inadvertently lusting over a psychopath? Was he going to chop her into pieces and feed her to the pigs?
Before her imagination could wander any further, he was back at her side.
‘Wh … what did you do that for?’ she asked, failing to conceal her fear.
‘My mum’s in the house. I didn’t want to risk her coming out and disturbing us. She’ll never move that door without us hearing it.’
‘Your mum?’
‘Yes. My dad’s at market today, which is why I’m on my own.’
‘Oh.’
‘So, where were we?’
‘You were going to look at my ankle. I think it might be sprained.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with your ankle and we both know it.’
‘Wha … there is!’
‘So how come you changed ankles from the yard to the barn? Injury run up one leg and down the other, did it?’
Bollocks. His sweaty sexiness had obviously turned her brain to mush. She said nothing.
‘Plus I saw you watching me from the lane. Your bright red T-shirt didn’t exactly help you blend in with the surroundings.’
She looked down. It was true. Her scarlet T-shirt wasn’t exactly a muted colour. Ramona suspected her face was now a similar shade.
‘So,’ he said, ‘why were you watching me? Are you some kind of pervert?’
Wetness pooled in her pussy at his stern tone. It gave Ramona a hunch, and she decided to act on it.
‘And what if I am?’ she said, quirking an eyebrow at him.
‘Well then. Perhaps we’d better give your filthy mind something to think about.’
He reached down, hooking his fingers under the edge of the offending T-shirt and slid it up Ramona’s body, over her head and dropped it to the floor. Her black lacy bra was revealed in all its glory.
‘That’s a very sexy bra, young lady. Especially for going hiking. Now, I can’t help but wonder if your panties match.’
Kneeling, he deftly unlaced her heavy boots and removed them. Then he made short work of her socks. Finally, he straightened. Even on his knees, his height put him in a perfectly kissable position. He obviously thought so too.
Reaching a large hand up, he slipped it behind her head and pulled her to him. As their lips crushed together, she sucked in a hasty breath through her nostrils. Big mistake. His fresh sweat, tinted with cologne made her feel heady.
As he plunged his tongue between her lips, Ramona’s senses went into overdrive. Not only did he look, sound, feel and smell delicious; he tasted it too. He’d obviously been chewing gum or mints as the tongue sliding sensuously against her own was pleasantly minty. She moaned into his mouth.
He pulled back. ‘Horny?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think I’d like to find out for sure. And then there’s the mystery of the matching underwear.’
His hands went to her waist and made short work of the button and zipper of her hiking trousers. Then he pushed her gently onto her back and pulled them down.
‘Hmm,’ he said, inspecting her plain black thong. ‘It doesn’t quite match. Never mind, it’s coming off anyway.’
Good to his word, he grabbed the sides of the thong and tugged it down. As the sticky gusset unpeeled from her skin, Ramona cringed, hoping he wouldn’t notice just how sodden it was. No such luck. Her white cream was clearly visible on the black cotton.
He laughed. ‘Just what were you doing behind that hedge, you dirty bitch?’
Without giving her a chance to answer, he tossed the thong to the floor. Slipping his hands underneath her legs, he pulled Ramona to the very edge of the hay bale. He then moved to part her labia, revealing her pink and swollen inner folds. Dipping his head, he began to lick her pussy.
He made a pleased-sounding noise as her juices flooded his mouth. Ramona arched her back as the sound vibrated against her sensitive flesh. He took this as encouragement and redoubled his efforts, increasing the pressure against her cunt. He swirled his tongue across her skin, inching closer to her clitoris, but maddeningly moving away again. She was sure he was doing it on purpose. Bastard. She reached forward and tangled her fingers in his thick hair. It was just long enough to hold on to, and she tugged him into position until his lips finally met her clit.
Sweet Jesus. She was so aroused that the slightest touch was torture. A squeal escaped her as he sucked the sensitive bundle of nerve endings into his mouth. He continued to pull and nibble at her tormented flesh until a shiver wracked her body. His eyes met hers. He moved back, allowing her clit to pop from his mouth.
‘You gonna come for me, baby?’
She nodded frantically. ‘For God’s sake, don’t stop until I do.’
‘Oh don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I won’t. I won’t stop until your come is dribbling down my chin.’
Although Ramona was sure it wasn’t possible to be any hornier, his filthy words pushed her higher. Her cunt contracted involuntarily and suddenly she really wanted to feel his cock inside her. Filling her, stretching her, pounding her until she screamed.
‘Please, just hurry up and fuck me.’
‘All in good time. I told you, I want your juices dribbling down my face first.’
With that, he put his hands beneath her thighs once more and pulled her tightly to him, burying his face in her wetness. He ate her pussy with gusto, licking up every drop of her cream, then closing his lips around her clit again. This time, he didn’t stop or pull away. He sucked that tingling button of flesh until Ramona’s orgasm hit with force, causing her to buck and twist beneath him. White spots danced before her eyes and a strangled noise spilled out of her mouth, followed by a multitude of expletives. Still he kept his head between her legs, lapping at her until finally she lay still.
Only then did he sit up, grinning widely. And the grin wasn’t the only thing on his face. A sheen of sticky juices coated the area around his mouth. He licked his lips.
‘Fuck me, you taste good. I can’t wait to get inside you.’ Then he paused. ‘Shit. I don’t suppose you have a condom?’
Ramona almost considered shaking her head, rather than facing the shame of admitting she had condoms in her backpack. But she wanted him inside her sooner rather than later, so she nodded sheepishly. Pointing languidly at her bag, she said,
‘My purse is in the inside pocket. There’s one in there.’
He was obviously as desperate to fuck as she, as he grabbed the bag without hesitation and quickly sought the elusive purse. Seconds later, he made a triumphant noise and turned back to her, the foil packet in his hand. He tore it open carefully, stuffing the wrapper into his pocket.
Looking down at his heavy lace up boots, he murmured, ‘Fuck that, I’ll leave ‘em on.’
Moving back over to where Ramona lay, he used one hand to undo his combats, then shoved them and his boxers down in one go, letting the
m fall to his ankles. Then he encouraged Ramona to move back so there was room for him. As she backed up, he crawled quickly after her. Once they were both safely positioned on the bales, he knelt between her legs. He maintained heated eye contact with her as he rolled the condom on, so she only got a brief glance at his cock before he leaned down to kiss her. But that glance had been enough. Ramona knew she wouldn’t be disappointed.
As his tongue slipped into her mouth, Ramona felt his shaft nudging up against her. She lifted her hips, desperate for him to fill her. He remained resolutely still for a little longer, kissing her with a fervour that let on just how much he wanted her. Then, without warning, he dipped his hips and pressed his cock between her cunt lips and continued to push until his balls pressed up against her body. It was a move that left Ramona gasping and she squeezed her internal muscles, causing him to moan into her mouth.
Breaking their kiss, he lifted his torso up and looked down at where their bodies were joined, then back at her face.
‘You are so fucking tight. If I go too fast, I won’t be able to hold back for long.’
‘Go for it. Screw me with everything you’ve got.’
As the words left her mouth, Ramona wondered what on earth she was letting herself in for. With his fitness level, she may well have to bite her lip to avoid his mother running in from the house to see who was being murdered.
As he began to thrust in and out of her, she stopped thinking about anything but how she was feeling. How he felt inside her, his cock pressed tightly up against her g-spot and his pubic bone grinding against her clit. Fuck, this guy knew what he was doing. She grasped his buttocks and enjoyed the feel of them beneath her hands, the hard muscles flexing beneath rounded flesh. As he picked up his pace, she dug her nails into his arse cheeks, causing him to grunt and fuck her harder still. It was a vicious circle, albeit a pleasurable one.
Before long, Ramona felt the delicious build up between her thighs that signalled the onset of her orgasm. And, it appeared, not a moment too soon.
Look the Look of Lust Page 2