Farmhouse Secrets & Silent Giggles

The dust of the farm clung to my skin, a gritty reminder of the long, arduous trek to the cabin. My cousins, little prats really, giggled incessantly as we trudged along, their youthful exuberance a stark contrast to the weariness settling deep in my bones. “What’s so funny?” I grunted, pushing a stray lock of hair from my face.

“How you’re walking, all stiff and slow, and the noises you and Luke made last night sounded nothing like mother and father,” one of them squeaked, barely containing her laughter. I scoffed, a genuine amusement bubbling up in my chest. My aunt and uncle had been quite… passionate, let’s just say. Eight children were a demanding bunch, and their parents certainly knew how to keep things interesting. The cabin was a relic, a weathered structure leaning precariously on its foundation, but the prospect of a clean bed and a respite from the relentless heat of the day was enough to motivate me. Once we’d cleared out the cobwebs, swept the floor, and aired out the musty interior, Luke, bless his pragmatic heart, would tackle the repairs. The bed, though, was a welcome sight, a simple wooden frame covered in a worn, but serviceable, quilt.

Auntie brought us a generous haul of supplies: cured ham, hard cheese, plump tomatoes, and a few crates of root vegetables. She was a woman of few words, her affection expressed not through flowery pronouncements but through tangible gifts and quiet gestures. She hugged me, a surprisingly strong embrace for someone so reserved, and whispered, “I love you as my own child. Find happiness in your husband always, and take care of him, and he will take care of you.” Then, without another word, she was gone, leaving us to our task.

As dusk settled over the farm, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, I found myself alone on the stoop, waiting for Luke. The air grew cooler, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant rain. A deep ache resonated within me, a longing for his touch, his strength, his presence. It wasn’t just physical, though the thought of him sent shivers down my spine. It was the comfort of knowing I wasn't alone, the security of his love, the sheer joy of being held by the man I adored. Then, the barn lights flickered on, and the familiar rumble of his truck announced his arrival. He stepped out, covered in dust and sweat, his body weary from a long day of labor. Without hesitation, he dropped heavily onto the bed, his muscles relaxing with the release of tension. I hurried to his side, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Undress my love,” I murmured, pouring a generous measure of hot water into the claw-footed tub. As he stripped off his clothes, the heat of the water slowly enveloped his skin, loosening the knots of fatigue. The first glimpse of his naked body was breathtaking, a testament to his raw masculinity. He stepped into the tub, his gaze immediately drawn to my large breasts straining against my thin cotton dress. I held my breath, savoring the moment.

“No corset?” I teased, a playful smirk playing on my lips. “Does my husband not like my breasts free now?” He didn’t answer, his eyes still fixated on my ample cleavage as I began to lather his hair and face with fragrant soap. The scent of lavender filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the cabin. “Yes, I adore your breasts and every bit of your body I desire,” I moaned, my voice husky with anticipation.

“I love the way you touch me,” he replied, his voice low and intimate. “When I was with wife before, she would never touch me or look if I was naked.” There was a hint of bitterness in his words, a longing for a love that had been denied to him. “That is sad,” I agreed, pulling back slightly. “I love seeing your body. And touching you, seeing you, makes my body tingle with desire.” I turned back to him, my gaze unwavering, and he followed my lead, slowly unbuttoning my dress and pushing it from my shoulders. As the fabric slid down my back, his eyes widened in pleasure, and his hands instinctively reached out to run along my spine. He lifted me from the stool, carrying me to the bed, and gently placed me on the mattress.

As I lay there, my legs spread wide, he began to caress my body, his touch both gentle and insistent. He rubbed his hands over my stomach, my thighs, my breasts, each movement sending a delicious shiver through my entire being. I arched my back, reaching for him, allowing him to explore every inch of my skin. The feeling of his hands on me was electrifying, igniting a fire within me that threatened to consume me.

Then, he leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. “Turn around,” he whispered, his voice laced with a primal urgency. As I did as he commanded, his eyes traveled down my body, lingering on my exposed arse. He stood up, his gaze intense, and began to pace the room, his movements slow and deliberate. “What is wrong, husband? Were you not enjoying me?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. “Yes, but were you enjoying me?” I replied, a playful challenge in my tone. “My dear husband, you showed me things more than I deserve, great feelings and love. For me, I receive those feelings when I give myself to you. For as long as we are of this world, I will not deny you ever of a need or desire.” He smiled, a slow, knowing curve of his lips, and grabbed my hips, pulling me up onto my knees.

He took my manhood in his hand, examining it with a reverence that both thrilled and terrified me. “Will I always arouse you, my husband?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. “I can’t foresee ever not being aroused,” I confessed, my breath catching in my throat. “Did your wife arouse you?” he pressed, his fingers gently stroking my clitoris. “At first. But it became a chore. She offered her wifely duties nightly, but there was never anything like what we have.”

As he spoke, my body began to tremble, anticipating the pleasure to come. I let go of him, allowing him to take the lead, and lay on my back, my legs spread wide, inviting his exploration. He approached me slowly, his eyes filled with anticipation, and began to rub and spank my arse. The sensation was exquisite, a burning pleasure that intensified with each stroke. I shrieked and moaned, lost in the moment, unable to resist his touch. He continued to caress me, his hand relentless, until I pushed back, demanding more. He stood up, his gaze unwavering, and stared at me with an intensity that made my heart race.

“What is wrong, husband? Were you not enjoying me?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion. “Yes, but were you enjoying me?” I replied, my voice trembling slightly. “My dear husband, you showed me things more than I deserve, great feelings and love. For me, I receive those feelings when I give myself to you. For as long as we are of this world, I will not deny you ever of a need or desire.” He smiled, grabbed my hips, and pulled me up, my knees bent beneath me, my head resting on his lap. Taking my manhood in his hand, he rubbed it against my sex. I moaned and wiggled against him, lost in the pleasure, as he continued to explore every inch of my body.

As he pushed forward, I stretched around him, allowing myself to be fully consumed by the sensation. Slowly, ever slowly, he penetrated me, my muscles contracting involuntarily. I delighted in the new feeling, the incredible stretch of my channel, and every ridge on his manhood. I gripped and screamed into the bedding as he pushed into the very depth of my womb. Pressing and rubbing a spot deep within that was painful yet pleasurable. Luke moaned. “Your body fits around me like a glove,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

I wiggle on him as his words aroused me more. He moaned as I made his manhood move around inside me. “My love, your manhood fills me, feels delightful inside me.” He squeezed my arse and I wiggled harder and faster. There was no build-up. Suddenly my womb vibrated and my honey released over his manhood and ran down my legs. As his manhood released his seed over and over inside me, I was shaking wildly. Falling onto the bed, I looked back as his seed shot over my back and splashing on my face. I lay there again in total euphoric bliss as Luke grabbed a cloth. His seed ran onto my lips and i couldn’t stop myself. I licked my lips and tasted his seed. Luke saw me and smiled as I tasted his seed and moaned. “Seems I married a harlot.” I should have been offended but it turned me on. I’ve been married but three days and find our sexual relations wonderful and very addictive.

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