The Son of a Farmer
Dear reader, I hope you find enjoyment in this tale. Greetings from Mica.
I dwell in the heart of the valleys. My spouse has departed some years ago within the course of the pandemic. He succumbed to it even though we were in the midst of seclusion. His corpse rested in my extra room for two days before they collected him. Now he stays on the mantelpiece in a jar. Understandably, I'm a bit resentful regarding the entire ordeal, yet I can't change matters.
My nearest neighbor is miles away. I don't have much interaction with anyone apart from the Vet and random farm visitors like the milk carrier. Local shopping deliveries aren't an option. The only time I converse with someone apart from them is when I pick up my necessities which is a 10-mile-long journey. Believe me, I don't embark on this journey very often.
I obtain milk from my dairy cattle, storing roughly two pints per day. Some I utilize for butter. Water originates from a well uphill, through a long blue pipe created by my husband. I have a container of plumbing devices that I employ when it leaks. The electricity originates from poles over the valleys, but it tends to disappear during tempestuous weather, so sometimes I utilize a generator when the primary power goes out.
I arrange diesel deliveries intermittently. These orders are unpredictable as to when they arrive, sometimes a whopping 10 days following the placement.
My primary revenue source is the milk, which doesn't total much, coming in at a daily average of a few pounds. I occasionally kill cows or sheep and butcher them myself. These carcasses keep me stocked with meat throughout the year in my ancient freezers. I also possess apple and quince trees, heaps of brambles, and they supply me with seasonal fruit. I cultivate potatoes, boasting an acre of manure-enriched soil, perfect for potatoes.
There's no telephone service, it was deactivated due to the conversion of the switchboard into a digital structure, supposedly we're too far out. I do have an old cell phone that we had when my spouse was alive, it's great for arranging diesel delivery or calling the vet. I've taught myself to maintain the vehicles, an ancient Land Rover which I use for town trips, and a vintage Massey Ferguson 465 tractor. It's old-fashioned, merely mechanical, with no computers or such, so as long as it doesn't incur a physical break, I can keep it functional. In the barn, I have an old welder that my spouse acquired, and I've taught myself to use it. There were moments when parts wore out, and I could restore them with my welder. Nothing fancy, just operational.
I'm considerably alone. The milk driver is the only individual I see regularly. Generally, we don't engage in discourse. He merely connects to the tank and collects the milk; he promptly departs.
It was a warm day, temperature around mid-teens, white clouds in the sky. The cows emitted a mournful low, while the sheep brayed. I claimed a walking staff (crook) and strolled among my land. I have a preferred stop to rest, it's just behind a thicket down the slanting edge of one of our paths. The grass only develops to about 4 inches high, the earth drains well, and this spot feels delightful to sit or recline. I placed my crook on the fence, removed my boots, and took my jacket off, hanging it inside out on a post. I removed my shirt, unsafed my belt, removed my jeans, and took off my underwear. I discarded them all on the post.
Nude, I lay down and stared at the sky, feeling the blades of grass beneath me and between my limbs. My left nipple stiffened as a finger encircled it. The other hand followed a path around my navel, continuing its journey through my pubic hairs. Previously, I shaved, but recently, with just myself, the process seemed pointless. I was no more than cup size B, so I stopped wearing a bra as it reminded me of my feminine nature. I loosened my jeans' belt and released my pants and panties, steppping out of them all and adding them to the post.
Lying down, I observed the sky while savouring the sensation of grass beneath me and between my legs, allowing one hand to caress my breast as the other swirled around my navel before trailing through the neat forest of my pubic hair. Upon closer inspection, I gleamed like a pampered woman.
In the woods, I discovered my secret gem, the small button of ecstasy at the peak of my valley. I wide open my knees, letting the gentle breeze caress me, sensing the kiss of the wind at my entrance. I delicately circle my button, holding my breath as the waves of pleasure dance. I push my finger down, my valley between my lips wet and slippery as if it contained a stream. My lips wrap around my finger, urging me toward the heart of my being.
My fingers move in unison with my legs widening, naturally opening and accepting me, I hesitate and softly massage my entrance, the muscles relaxing and inviting me deeper, I require no persuasion. Two fingers plunge down my abyss, brushing my hymen scar, touching my ridges and undulations, each a tender spark of enjoyment.
My fingers have reached their maximum depth, my palm pressing against my lips, expanding my valley, making my wetness more fluid. My fingers backtrack, curling within me, enlarging, widening, comfortably ready.
I depart from my snug enclave and smoothly slide along my damp valley and visit my button anew, its soft throb summoning my focus. I rest my finger on it then gradually press, then release, my body screams in response, I continue to caress, touch, my heartbeat accelerates, my body temperature elevates, and my throbbing strengthens.
I can discern that I am near climax, the grass lightly grazing between my legs, but I fail to notice, my button demands my attention, throbbing, undulating, pleading for discharge. I press it. Electricity surges through my body, a volley of pleasures disperses throughout me, unleashing nerve-shattering pain as my overloaded sensory nerves respond accordingly. I stand, my back arches as my contracting muscles propel me into my orgasm, my mouth cries out as I experience a release.
Essentially spent, I return to the lawn, once again conscious of the grass as it soaks the fluids leaking from my body in my arousal. I stand up, listening to nature around me, then slowly I dress and return to my residence.
I had emerged from my walk only a short while back when I heard a familiar vehicle park outside. This was an uncommon sound; I consequently had to consider what the noise was that I was hearing. I opened my door and peered out.
"Jack!" I exclaimed, it was a pleasant surprise.
"Hello Mum. May I enter?"
"Certainly sweetheart."
I had not laid my eyes on Jack for months; he had visited for my birthday, bearing gifts of chocolates and welding rods. However, that had been an eternity ago. I went into the kitchen and prepared to welcome him, he swiftly joined me, bearing a bag.
I lit the kettle, a warm beverage was in store, and then turned to approach him. His face had a 'set' expression, not quite solemn, but not oozing warmth and happiness as I often observed.
"Mum," he inquired mournfully, "may I stay with you for a spell?"
"Of course, dear child. What is transpiring, is Sue okay?"
"We have separated mum."
"My dear child, that is regrettable." I refrained from asking for more information, he would reveal what he believed I required, in due time. He just appeared downcast.
"I'm familiar with it mum. I also obtained a few garments with me, in case it was uncomfortable, I need to return and secure the remaining pieces of my belongings if that's permissible."
"Certainly my dear. You can stay in your old room, the bedsheets and blankets are housed in the ottoman at the foot of the bed. I will fetch some red meat from the freezer, I usually prepare meals day by day, hence I need to organize in advance now."
"Thank you, Mum. I will visit a supermarket and procure food, such as pasta, it only requires reheating and boiling, or perhaps rice, something that is convenient and maintains a long shelf life."
I am generally acquainted with only potatoes, boiled, mashed, fried, and thus pasta will serve as an intriguing change.
"Okay, dear. I will create your dinner, it shall be lamb chops with boiled potatoes and gravy, if that is approved." I chose to gift him my meal for this evening and would content myself with merely bread and butter. I was not especially hungry, to begin with.
I boiled the potatoes, inserted the chops in the oven in a minimal sized pan, and then chopped and buttered some bread for myself. I utilized some potato water and pan drippings, blending them with some flour to create gravy, I added a sprinkle of browning, and served it to him.
"Mum," he questioned, "still producing your own bread and butter?"
"Indeed, dear. And cheese too."
"Fascinating, Mum."
After he finished eating, I cleared the dishes away and washed them. We sat in the living room on our worn-out sofa, holding a glass of ginger beer each.
"The arguments kept getting worse, mom," Jack said. "Nothing major, but we always found something to criticize each other about. In the end, it was easier to leave than to stay. Fortunately, the house is rented out, so Sue can take care of it herself or even abandon it. I just need my belongings back."
"Maybe you've made the right decision, sweetheart, by distancing yourself for a while. It could help you clear your mind, reunite with Sue."
"Mom, it's completely over. The love and patience are nonexistent."
"Oh baby... It's going to be tough for you here. We don't have internet, and I have no way of using it if we have it. We grow our own food and live very simply. But you're welcome to stay here as long as you can handle my annoying habits."
"Mom, it'll be alright. I'll just go upstairs to clean myself up."
"The water is cold, baby. We have hot water only on Sundays when I light the fire in the fireplace."
"I know, mom. I'll be fine."
Jack went up to wash, and I could imagine him taking off his clothes and using the bathroom. I relinquished his privacy and offered him his space. I used to enjoy hot water, but I don't often feel the need for it anymore. I have a fireplace in the living room that Paul installed a long time ago, but gathering, drying, and cutting firewood is a rather tedious task. As I grow older, I delegate the chores, and so I heat the water on Sundays and take a hot bath. The rest of the week, I stick to a cold washing with a wet cloth over the sink. Boiling water from the kettle is enough to clean the dishes. And since we're so isolated, it's pointless to use too much of the wood from the fireplace.
Jack returned downstairs, wrapping himself in a towel. He looked more relaxed, as if he'd just let all the tension go. We both stayed on the sofa, without speaking. It had been a long time since I'd felt so intimate with anyone - it felt good to have him close to me, at least for now. There was no hostility between us, just a moment of contentment.
As the light began to fade, I said, "Time for bed, Jack - we have to take care of the cows in the morning."
"Yes, mom," he sighed.
I went to bed first and heard Jack following. There was no need for me to secure the doors or windows - we were so secluded. Upstairs, I took off my clothes and went to the bathroom to use the toilet, wash, and brush my teeth. Jack had already started to make himself comfortable.
I lay in my bed, listening to the house settle down for the night and almost dozed off. Then I heard something faint but distinct - some kind of a noise. When I opened my bedroom door, I saw Jack standing there, partially obscured by the darkness. I wrapped my arms around him and drew him to me. His warm, naked body pressed against mine, and his penis throbbed above my stomach. With our arms around each other, we rested on the bed.
"Mother," he whispered.
"Shhh..." I kissed his mouth, easing him into silence. His lips parted, allowing my tongue to invade his mouth. I felt the weight of his body on top of mine as he positioned himself above me. But I wasn't ready for that just yet.
"Not yet, Jack..." I said softly, and moved down to his waist, then to his crotch. I unzipped his pants and took out his penis. My mouth surrounded his penis, moving it back and forth, my tongue working his rim, lubricating him. Jack remained motionless, waiting for the next move.
"Mom, I'm ready..." he murmured.
"Be patient, Jack..." I pulled away, leaving him aching. I moved down farther until my mouth could reach his waistband. I took hold of his penis, pushed his foreskin down, and gently sucked his cock into my mouth.
Once Jack complimented me, a contented murmur resonated, and I began to guide him deeper. I descended onto him, his erection gliding across my tongue, gliding past my tonsils, into my throat. It had been a while, so my gag reflex needed more control, and I recalled how challenging it was to breathe with a penis in my throat.
I bobbed up and down, inhaling when he was in my mouth, clenching and loosening when he was in my throat. I gripped his testicles in my hand, rolling his testes inside his sack, softy applying pressure as I entertained my son using my mouth. The night was dark and moonless, but my eyes adjusted, allowing me to make out his hands clenching the bedsheet on my bed, his eyes the only luminous spots in the room.
I drew him from my throat and distanced myself, I didn't want to bring things to a premature finale. He pushed me onto my back and I felt a mouth around my left nipple, nibbling almost, chewing tenderly, and then the mouth left and my breast felt cold, neglected. I sensed his breath above my sex, caressing it. His tongue delicately dabbed my clitoris, my body responding, stirring to life with his touch, a touch outside my control. My vagina prickled, I could almost feel it gapping open, my valley moistened, welcoming.
I sensed him retreat from my clitoris and slink down my valley, the coarseness of his tongue scraping my sleek wet lips as he journeyed to my entrance, circling it, his tongue prodding slightly inside, then withdrawing. My perineum, unaccustomed to such touches, swelled and sang to me, my lower region resonating in unison.
I wasn't certain if I could still prevent the imminent tidal wave before the finale, but I was pressing the mattress, grounding my heels, holding my breath, and still the pressures escalated, and the choir became louder. His mouth encircled my opening and I felt myself stretching, he was filling me, expanding me.
He shifted and loomed above me. His hardness rubbed against my entrance, gradually sliding inside, resuming his initial expedition in life. His skin tugged and held back, his edge pushing in, stretching me, readying me for him, and I was ready, and I embraced the situation, my hands around his back, my claws digging in, and as he reached my depth, my legs clamped around his hips, denying him escape.
He initiated a retreat and returned, almost extricating himself, but then he resumed his inward thrusts, his penis slipping in and out, hitting the deepest regions of me.
"Oh God mum," he cried out, "this is so fantastic."
"Ssh baby, no concerns here, simply shag your mother. Absolutely no issues here whatsoever."
He increased his velocity, thrusting as deeply as he could. I could no longer sense his foreskin as it moved, his speed was excessive, my vagina reverberated, my mons cried out from his pounding, identifiable signs of lovemaking.
He pushed hard and paused, I recognized what this signified, and I clenched him hard, and I felt it. As I sensed his release, my orgasm began, waves of ecstatic bliss sweeping through me, followed by twinges of pain as my nerves responded. My nails had burrowed deeply into his back, but he made no sound of pain or protest, he merely pressed deeper into me, his ejaculation flooding my womb with his semen.
He gasped and relaxed.
"Mum."
"Yes, son."
"That felt so good, I didn't anticipate that, I didn't know."
"A mother instinctively understands her son's pain and uncovers how to alleviate it, son."
He disengaged from me and curled up beside me.
"Now Jack, embrace me and sleep, I need to milk the cows in a few hours."
Read also:
- "Thirty Days of Incest: Day 4"
- Day 2: 30 Days of Incest
- Speed Trap Town Chapter 1-4
- Father, Child, and Aunt
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