When an ex-farmer takes his girlfriend, Fiona, back to the farm he once lived on, it is meant to be a nostalgic tour, but the sex with baby oil in the motel room on the way there puts them in the mood for more than reminiscences.
On arrival, he takes her into the ploughed paddocks and she asks him to jerk off for her the way he used to beside the tractor. Not only does he show her his technique, but he takes her arse over a fallen tree in the tree break.
They move from there to have a picnic lunch. Here is the scene straight from the short story:
We strolled hand in hand the two hundred metres to the open front machinery shed.
“Header, hay baler, combine...” I pointed as I identified the various machines for her. “And, of course, tractor.”
The tractor was a different make and newer module that the Case 2470 I used to drive, but it was still a large 4-wheel drive, capable of hauling broad acre tillage equipment. I opened the cab door, climbed up the steps and seated myself in the comfortable hydraulic seat.
I extended my hand and said, “Come on up. Hop in.”
Fiona took my hand and swung herself up the steps into the cabin. “Hmmm, it is a little tight for a picnic spot.”
“Naah, perfect. If I was still farming, I would have you bring my lunch to the paddock every day. I might not even stop ploughing. You could ride around in the cab with me for a few rounds of the paddock... and feed me.”
“Feed you?”
“Sure. I could steer with one hand,and you would straddle my legs and sit on my knee facing me. Come on, try it!”
Fiona lifted one leg over me and sat on my legs. I demonstrated that I could look past her and have my left hand on the steering wheel. “See! Easy peasy. Now feed me.”
She laughed and opened the lunchbox, took out a slice of chicken breast and popped it into my mouth. She then gave
me a slice of cucumber.
“This is fun, but, um, couldn’t you be doing this for yourself?”
I nodded at my left arm curved around her body to reach the wheel. “I have to steer.”
She laughed. “You have two hands, don't you?”
“No, they are both in use,” I said as I slid my hand under her skirt and into the leg of her panties. I found her slippery hole and slowly sank two fingers in as far as they would go. “More chicken, please.”
Fiona fed pieces of food into my mouth and occasionally took a bite herself, while my fingers pistoned slowly in and out. She started to pump her hips, then lifted her bottom off my legs and leaned forward to kiss me long and hard... but kept riding my fingers like a jockey approaching the finishing line.
Eventually she slowed down until she stopped moving, left my fingers in place and kissed me deeply. “Oh, that was a nice ride, my farm boy, but it is very cramped in here.”
“Pleased to be of service, Ma’am! Are you ready to head off?”
“But what is that dark little wooden building near the house? It looks like a barn.”
“It's the old feed shed and dairy.I don't think the Cranstons keep a milk cow anymore.”
“I want to see it,” Fiona said and pushed the door of the barn open.
You might like to picture what happns in the milking shed when he bends Fiona over and pins her neck in the cow bail. A lot more sex follows.
If you would like to read the story from start to finish, you will find My Farm Boy as a 99 cent (US) Kindle book right here on Amazon.