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e Jason, but the words were hardly out of my mouth before his motions started to lose control. Was he getting tired?
Just as his bucking went farther and deeper with each irregular thrust and a powerful orgasm drew a scream of pleasure from me, I heard a much deeper, even more satisfying cry come from Jason behind me, and warmth shot into my cunt.
I collapsed, a doll in his arms as I felt his hot seed shoot into me, stream after stream making me wince in unmitigated lust for more of the pearly fluid. I was utterly helpless as I felt myself getting so wonderfully stuffed with come, each throb of his cock in me releasing more of it. Is there supposed to be that much?!
Like the dirty dreams I’d had in the past, I hardly realized when it was over, and we lay there together breathing heavily as the storm subsided.
He was still in me, cock still stiff as I felt some of the warm fluid run out of my pussy. I felt a hand going up and down my side. He was stroking me, I realized.
“Good girl,” I heard his gravelly voice. I answered with an utterly satisfied hum, and I found my hand going to where his manhood met my mound and bringing some of the come up to my lips.
I hesitated a moment, but looked him in the eye as I put it into my mouth and licked my fingers clean of it.
He finally drew himself out of me, carefully, leaving a string of his seed trailing out as he did. I still don’t know how to put that feeling of wholeness into words, I just knew that I wanted it as much as I could get it.
He took me in his thick arms, getting down beside me and wrapping me in his embrace. I would be drifting off to sleep soon, I knew—I’d never felt this relaxed in my entire life.
He pushed his nose into my curly hair and put a hand on my ass, holding me tight and breathing slowly.
“I could just steal you away,” he husked into my ear. “The booze is alright, but a guy only gets a haul like you once in a lifetime.”
“Steal me, y’damn bandit?” I giggled back, cuddling into his chest, “we’ll see about that…but for now, I reckon you’ve earned breakfast, at least.”
* * *
Jason stayed past breakfast, as it turned out. Past the rest of the day, in fact. I’d start cooking a meal, but before I could get it to the table, I found myself being spread out on top of it. I was hardly able to keep up with the farm work in between getting fucked brainless for the next few days.
The week slipped by as if it were nothing—and it wasn’t until the end of it that I realized I hadn’t sent Jason away, and he sure didn’t show any signs of being in a big hurry.
We ended up drinking most of the moonshine together, laughing over some of my old poetry under the starlight at night, and soon, he even picked up some tools and got to helping me out around the farm.
For the first time in a long while, the farm didn’t feel lonely anymore. Jason felt so comforting when he was inside me, and it wasn’t long before I felt that way when he was just out and around the house with me. Waking up next to his pierced face in the morning made me want to roll around in the sheets with him for hours—and I didn’t regret a thing. I almost laughed at the guilt I’d felt a few days ago. Or was it weeks?
It wasn’t long before he had packed up and moved onto the farm with me, and it wasn’t much longer after that that I started feeling sick in the mornings. I hadn’t been able to resist feeling him fill me up every day, and within several weeks, it was showing in the form of a round belly.
Folks probably talked, this being the small county that it was, but neither of us thought much of it at all. We had each other, and that was all we needed never to feel alone again.
One thing Jason never did shake completely was the moonshining. Both of us had a taste for it, but it was the thrill that didn’t wear off. I even went on him for most of the runs, after he’d moved in with me. As it turned out, a bandit and his pregnant girlfriend running booze could turn a pretty tidy profit.
Tidy enough, I found out, to buy a damn fine engagement ring, too.
The Farmgirl & The Fugitive
Book Themes:
Barely Legal, Virgin, Bad Boy, and Breeding
Word Count:
6,049
* * *
Bein’ in charge of a farm all by your lonesome is never easy work. Not even for the big strappin’ fellas I know. Not a one of them ain’t eager to find a wife to help ‘em out, or at least a farm hand. So when the family farm fell to me to take care of, I was hard up for some help.
That weren’t all I was hard up for, let me tell ya, but I’m a decent gal so I’ll skip the details. But one hot and sunny day I was walkin’ out from the feed and seed store, I encountered a man who was gonna be the stuff of my wet dreams for ages to come.
There he came a runnin’, this big, tall, strappin’ man, dressed in a leather jacket. He looked nothin’ like the men folk around my sleepy farm town, tattooed and fearsome lookin’, he was without a doubt a scary lookin’ individual. But more so than that, he had the local sheriff on his ass.
