“Morning, Wyatt!” I call out as I approach him, and Lucky darts over to me for pets.
“Morning, son. What are you doing here?”
“Well, I haven’t told Blake yet, but I’m staying in town for a while.” Forever, same difference. “Thought maybe I could help out around the farm while they’re on their honeymoon?”
“Of course. Want some coffee first? I got a pot inside.”
“That’d be great, thank you!” I smile, relieved because John wasn’t there to make me coffee this morning, and there’s not a coffee shop every few feet like there is in the city. This new lifestyle is going to take some adjusting, but I think I’ll figure it out. Or I’ll win my husband’s heart and he’ll beg me to move back in and make me coffee every morning… though I don’t think John is much of a beggar.
Apparently I am, though; another unexpectedly hot discovery. No shame in that.
I love hanging out with Wyatt, and he seems happy to have me around. I wonder if he’s lonely too with Blake and Liamaway. We drink our coffee, he shows me some photos Blake sent him, and I finally get to “work” which is really just saying hi to all the animals so they’re not lonely.
The cows are so cute, so I head to them first.
“Hi, Bruno,” I say to the one closest to me. He’s munching the grass, and I love watching him. Ferdinand and Cinnamon are in the field further away, and the likelihood of them coming when I call is about zero, so I open the gate and walk out to greet them. “Hi, you two.” They nuzzle into me as I take turns petting them, knowing this will be my calmest interaction of the day.
After spending five minutes with Jolene—Blake’s escape artist and most dramatic goat—I know I’m right. These goats are here to raise hell, and they’re completely unapologetic about it. Good thing Liam and John fixed the fence before the wedding. My man is so handy.
My next stop is those pesky chickens. Blake loves seeing photos of his “babies,” so I know when he finds out I’ve been here, he’ll ask if I took any. I try to catch one to take a selfie with, but these little fuckers are fast as they run all over at my feet. I’m bobbing and weaving, trying to catch a chicken—any chicken!—but they’re all so quick. How the hell does Blake get them into pants? I can’t even pick one up. “This is why I don’t like any of you,” I mutter before settling for a general photo of them pecking their beady little faces into the earth to eat worms or some shit. “Goodbye, chickens, I’m through with you,” I announce, still very unsure why Blake is so obsessed with them.
But my smile grows as I walk toward the barn. “Hi, babies!” I say to Coco and Charlie, my favorite mini donkeys who Blake finally named. “I saved the best for last, but don’t tell anyone else that. Actually, just don’t tell the cows. The chickens and goats sure can come down a few notches with their cockiness.”
I spend the rest of my time at the farm with them, petting and taking care of them to make sure their sleeping area is nice and clean. Wyatt comes over to show me how to pick and clean theirhooves, but he ends up doing most of the actual work. I let them have a snack since they were so cuddly and perfect. My new friends from the bar didn’t show up, but they probably have jobs. I’ll just have to go back to the bar during another game so I can see them again.
I do another workout when I get back home to my big, empty house, and take a quick shower before I can finally start working on my main plan for the day.
I pull up the internet on my laptop, search “kink list,” and click the first option. Since I’m not sure what John is into exactly, and this is all entirely new to me, I want to learn more about what’s even out there and try to figure out if there’s anything I think I’d be into. Then he won’t have to keep questioning what I want to do; we can ramp up the sex and he can let loose.
As I begin to read through the list, my dick starts to harden in response to some of the options that I’d never even considered during sex. Sensory deprivation? I think that’s, like, blindfolds and stuff like that. Yes, please. Anal fisting? Hmm, might be a bit much.
The sheet is interactive, but I want to actually give it to John as a gift, and I don’t have a printer. Another search confirms a local office supply shop in town that offers printing, and since they don’t know me, hopefully John doesn’t get too upset if anyone looks too closely at what I’m printing. But I’m doing this for him. For us. I’m sure it’ll be fine.
I email myself the link to the website and then drive across town. The moment I’m inside the store, a middle-aged man approaches me. “How can I help you today?”
I smile warmly in greeting. “I need to print something.”
“Sure thing, you can get on one of the computers here. Just follow the instructions and let me know if you have any issues,” he says, pointing me in the right direction.
Perfect. I nod and login on one of the computers. Before Iknow it, the printer is filling with sheets of paper for me to fill out and another copy for John. So romantic.
The man picks them up for me and gives me a curious glance before schooling his face and ringing me up. After I pay, he gives me a smug look and says, “Have fun out there.”
“You too!” I reply before eagerly heading home.
I sit at my kitchen table—or Phil’s kitchen table, one of the things he left for me—and get to work.
There are some dots by the kinks listed, but I’m not sure what they mean. I don’t want there to be any confusion for John on how I’m filling this out, so I resort to old-fashioned crossing things out and circling them with a few stray question marks for things I don’t understand or know if I’d like. But the ones I really think I’d enjoy get lots of exclamation points.
Spanking:
YES!!!!!!!
I underline it for good measure, too, in case the exclamation marks didn’t give it away. John teased me with one little taste, and I want more. A whole-day sex marathon. He better cancel his plans this weekend.
Lingerie:
My brows furrow. Isn’t this for women? I pull up my browser and search male lingerie, and my eyes widen. Apparently it is a thing! There are all sorts of harnesses and underwear made of lace or even leather. I can’t say I’m super eager to try any of it, but the thought of John’s eyes on me while I wear it… Maybe. I scribble a few question marks.
