42 Filthy Fucking Stories (21 page)

I was on my own for the first time in my life, paying my own way just like I wanted, meaning there wasn’t no one in the world to tell me what I could and couldn’t do.

It was hot enough to make my teeth sweat on the day Joe entered the barn, demanding my attention along with every other drawn foot on the hay. His eyes wore an icy blue, demanding notice, and the long ponytail spilling to the middle of his back, along with his powerful chest and shoulders made him look not too different from the horses.

Joe wasn’t a man, he was a creature, and I’d never seen anything like him before, which wasn’t too odd I guess, considering I grew up a Methodist pastor’s daughter in a rural, extremely conservative, community. Men didn’t go around looking like horses, at least not without having the decency to tuck it up under a hat, so when Joe’s wide smile and worn face appeared at the barn that day, an innocent girl grew instantly into a curious woman.
 

Joe’s drifter’s spirit made it easy for him to ease right into conversation and laughter with the owner of the barn, slapping him on the back as if they’d known one another all their lives, or maybe another one. That demeanor, along with a reference from an old friend of the owner’s, landed Joe a job working beside me right there in the middle of all the muck.
 

Conversation was easy for Joe, and while some of the stable workers found his constant chatter obnoxious, I found every syllable pretty near captivating. The only place the owner could offer Joe to sleep was up in the hay loft, but he accepted the invite with a wide smile on his chiseled face, moving his belongings from a truck that was so old its blue was nearly white, to a cramped but cozy corner up in the loft.
 

Another two weeks passed before we were sitting on a picnic table under the stars, swigging beer and letting ourselves unwind in tandem. Finally alone with this intriguing creature, I shucked a hundred questions about life in the city and every experience he had or might have had during any one of the years since he started walking.
 

Most of Joe’s details were vague at best, but he said just enough to capture my attention, then hold it prisoner for hours on end. Half a case of beer later, or maybe it was the whole thing, and we were talking and laughing about everything from life in general to women, men, and the fact that I was “the most country person” he had ever met.
 

I pointed my chin in defiance, assuring Joe I was far less “country” than most of the people in town. He laughed, harder than necessary.
 

I was feeling slightly inadequate, talking to a man nearly 11 years my senior, and everything from the ice in his eyes to the stubble on his chin was making me itch to prove my worth. I felt suddenly desperate to know Joe better, but didn’t want him to know it, at least not yet. So I kept sipping my beer while he swigged away at his, hoping the alcohol didn’t get the best of me, though not really caring all too much if it did.
 

He listened to the few crazy things I’d done, or attempted to do, during my high school years. None were all that alarming, but he feigned shock anyway.
 

By 1:30 in the morning, our words ran dry, so we left the well and laid our backs on the rough wooden surface, gazing at a wide sky full of shimmering diamonds.
 

I didn’t want the night to end quite yet, and wasn’t really willing to let it. I was wondering what it would be like to kiss this mysterious man when he suddenly sat up on the table. Disappointment left me in a worried breath. I hadn’t even considered that Joe might be thinking about what it was like to kiss me, so I jumped when he was suddenly almost on top of me, slowly bending until our faces were nearly touching, filling his face with the most boyish grin I had ever seen.
 

I was so stunned I started to giggle. Joe laughed along with me until we fell into hysterics, awkward and excited.
 

His elbow dropped to the table beside my head and his blue eyes burned my face. His calloused hand drew the outline of my lips.
 

His touch alone was enough to make me breathless.
 

“You’re beautiful,” he said, barely above a whisper.
 

I must have blushed. His hands caressed my sweat dampened hair for a few moments as he looked into the darkness, staring at nothing. His eyes came back with a new shade of blue, darkened by determination.

I braced myself for what I knew was about to happen.

The scent around me as his lips touched mine grew cemented in my head; the grass and horse shit and earth in the air. I can remember the feel of the wood against the back of my head and the cool air sliding its tongue along my skin. The frogs were singing their song over by the pond across the field, but even they had the courtesy to stop just long enough to leave more magic in the moment.
 

It was a tender kiss, unmatched by anything I had ever experienced. I can still feel the contrast of his soft lips to his rough hand, every time I close my eyes and put myself back on that table. Adrenaline and ice pumped in my blood as my heart pounded so hard in my chest I knew he could feel it banging against his.
 

Chills carpeted my arms, then prickled down the rest of my body.
 

He pulled away and looked into my eyes, leaving me breathless and gasping for the thick humidity wrapping around us like the thick of a blanket. I was hesitant, no idea what to do, and I could feel Joe trying to untangle my inexperience.
 

“Will you stay with me?” He smiled, running his hands across mine. It was a dangerous, open ended question that I was totally unprepared to answer.
 

“Yes,” was all I could whisper.

He took my hand pulled me up to a sitting position. I think that was when I finally started breathing again. I sucked moist air into my lungs as if I’d been drowning and had finally resurfaced. He leaned back, cracked another beer, maybe the last one, then stared hard into the darkness before returning his gaze to me.
 

“Can I ask you something?” He had said it like a question, though I’m sure he would’ve gone ahead and asked, no matter my answer.
 

“Yes,” I said, slightly louder.
 

“Have you ever,” he paused, took another drink of his beer, “been with anyone?”

“Been with anyone?” I knew what he meant, but the fear of the rejection kept my answer crooked.
 

“Yeah, ya know, like, aw shit… have you ever had sex?”
 

I knew the question was coming, but felt stunned anyway. I chewed on my bottom lip while I figured out how to respond. I decided the truth was a lie if left unsaid, so I gave it wings and let it fly.

“No.”
 

Apparently I’d lost the ability to give anything more than one word answers. I braced myself for his excuses, expecting him to take one final pull from his beer before pushing himself from the picnic table and making his way back to the bed in his hayloft

I stared into the nothing of the distance, rubbing my sweating palms across the layer of dust on my jeans, figuring I’d leave the table before he could. “Well,” I said as my feet hit the grass, “I’d better get going if I expect any sleep before work tomorrow.”

His fingers curled around my arm and he pulled me gently toward him. “Stay,” he whispered, fixed on my eyes, drilling into a place inside me I didn’t know existed. I could only stand, my knees knocking and my eyes unable to shatter his gaze – not that I wanted to.
 

I picked up my mostly finished bottle from the table, and sucked the remaining brew in three large swigs, sinking into the most awkward silence of my life, with no idea what to do or say. He smiled, sending a cool chill through my overheated body.

The warmth of his hand landed on the back of my head as he drew me in for another kiss, harder and fueled by my first taste of passion. I’d been kissed, plenty, with the first time being behind the back of my daddy’s church, but Joe’s kiss was fat with experience; intention, force and feeling behind it.
 

I felt the heat from his trim body radiating into my own, and I lost all sense, throwing my arms around his neck and standing on my tip-toes to reach his pouted lips.
 

Once they touched, a fury of kisses followed.

We pulled away and laughed together. Joe took my hand and led me to the barn where we climbed the long ladder up and into the loft. The smell of hay and sweat swallowed my other senses as we crawled toward his makeshift bed of a sleeping bag spread over a layer of hay.
 

I waited at the edge of the bed, unsure of what I should do. He sat on the threadbare material and patted the space beside him. I took my cue and sat, knees drawn to my chest with my arms wrapped around them. He took the pile of hair tied in a knot at the nape of my neck, then pulled it so it spilled past my shoulders, half way down my back. He tucked a large strand behind my shoulder and lay his lips on my bare skin.
 

His kisses left my shoulder and made a trail of fire down the front of my chest to where his lips met the soft gauze of my shirt. He pulled his shirt over his head and my hands immediately went to his skin, exploring his broad shoulders and the taut flesh of his chest and rippled abs.
 

He lifted my shirt over my head, tossed it beside his, then pushed softly on my shoulders, lowering me to the floor. His kisses trailed down the outline of my bra to my stomach and he nipped both of my hip bones with his teeth, making them hop lightly toward his mouth.
 

Joe unbuttoned, then unzipped my jeans, slowly sliding them from my hips, kissing every inch of my skin as he pulled them from my body. He slid my panties and bra from me, undressed himself, then lay beside me, running his hand from the bottom of my neck to my hip bones and then back up.
 

Joe’s hand met my slit. I tensed and started to shake. He gently nudged my leg to the side and began his magical torture, slowly exploring the depths of my already soaked hole.
 

I breathed heavily as wave upon wave of pleasure shot from Joe’s fingers and crackled everywhere through my body. His thumb massaged my clit as he worked his fingers in and out of my pussy, caressing every inch of my tender inner skin. The involuntary movements rocking through my body felt strange, especially since I couldn’t do anything to stop myself from twisting and turning in a series of rattles.
 

My hips instinctively shot toward his hand, bucking, quietly begging for more of the electric shocks surging through my body with a current that nothing could ground.
 

My skin was electric as Joe’s hot breath swallowed my swollen lips. His steaming mouth inched closer to my center, burning my inner thighs. He positioned his arms under my legs, moving my hips closer to him. I felt a sudden ferocity from his tongue as it lapped against the glistening lips of my pussy, leaving me breathless and squirming as I tried to control my inner explosion.
 

But I couldn’t.
 

I screamed instead.

Vibrations shot from somewhere deep inside me, then up and into the pit of my stomach, swimming through my blood and sending my heart to a gallop. Fireworks flashed before my eyes as my fingers curled into his sleeping bag, pulling the fabric toward me as if bunching it around my body would stop my world from spinning.
 

As quickly has Joe had gone down, he returned, now bracing his weight over the top of my body. He looked me in the eyes and whispered, “Ready?”

Words weren’t possible, so I nodded instead, which he probably couldn’t even see in the dark of the hayloft. He maneuvered his body between my legs, then positioned the tip of his dick up against my soaking wet hole.
 

I squealed as Joe pushed himself inside, then worked his hips in and out, widening the tight hole of my pussy enough to slosh inside it. There was a slight shock of pain, running from pussy to brain like the drag of a knife.
 

I tensed and he quit moving altogether.
 

Afraid he wouldn’t continue, I willed myself to relax.
 

Joe brushed his hand across my cheek as if to ask if I was okay. I nodded and he continued, slightly slower than before. The pain receded, immediately replaced by an impossibly deep need for him to push himself deeper. I pressed my hips to the base of his dick, then moaned as pleasures shot from my pussy to the tips of my fingers.
 

Joe worked faster, gaining speed with each stroke.
 

“My God, you’re so tight…” the words gave me a sense of empowerment, more from the breathless way he exhaled them, than from the words themselves.
 

I pushed my hips harder toward his until his arms went to jelly. Catching himself on his elbows, he sped the pace of his strokes and moaned, lost in his own pleasure.
 

Our joint moaning was my soundtrack to a summer dream come true.

Joe climaxed inside me, launching shot after shot of hot cream as he loudly grunted, shoving himself harder inside me and filling my inner space with his liquid promise. His strong arms went limp again as he tried to prop himself up and spare me his weight.