Evelyn Street - Behind the barn

"Oh God, stop it! STOP IT!!" she shrieked, struggling wildly. She couldn't let this happen – no matter what, she had to stop his lewd advances before they got any further. Her startling thoughts had thrown her off balance, putting her off guard, and now, this revolting man was trying to fondle her down there!

"Hold still, baby," Sam rasped hoarsely, "and let ol' Sam give ya li'l pussy what your two-timin' husband has been neglectin'."

Sandra stood stock still. Did he know that Mike hadn't made love to her in weeks? Had Mike told him? Oh God, it was too much to bear! Sam took advantage of her immobility and eased his hand inside the flimsy nylon protection of her panties and slipped down to the soft, hair-covered pelt of her vagina. The fingers hesitated there for a moment before slipping upwards and teasing slowly into the warm moist furrow of her pussy.

A shudder coursed through Sandra as she felt his hard insistent fingers down between her thighs on her naked genitals. She felt powerless to move. There was something irrevocable about his intrusion there – as if there was nothing to fight any more. He had forced his hand inside her panties – she had allowed things to get this far – and now, there was nothing she could do about it! She felt broken, a victim of events initiated by her husband when he had first started being unfaithful to her. His illicit actions had started the ball rolling for her subsequent acquiescence to the farm worker's lewd manual play. It was Mike's fault!

Sam's fingers probed and searched in the softly yielding cuntal folds, exploring the smooth, slightly pulsating lips, teasing about with confident insistence. Sandra was surprised at her own reaction to another man's hand between her legs. She knew it was partly because of her disembodiment from physical feeling, but couldn't deny that the strange fingers didn't feel bad down there.

"How d'ya like it, honey?" Sam hissed lewdly, "better than fingerfucking yourself, isn't it?" Unwillingly, Sandra admitted the memory of her own frantic fingering of her excited vagina, her scurrilous search for release. Shame flooded through her at the thought of how she had writhed under her own probing fingers, how she had squirmed her naked buttocks around lewdly in orgasm as she plunged her fingers deeper and deeper inside her. What was happening to her? First, she had enjoyed her own lewd masturbation, and now she was beginning to like the hired hand's fingers working deeper now up inside her gradually moistening pussy!

No, it can't be! Her mind screamed, it can't be happening to me! But there was no doubt now about it – she couldn't deny it. She was beginning to ENJOY Sam's fingers in her pussy, and in spite of her mind's horror, her traitorous body was beginning to undulate gently in time to the farm worker's insistent fingers between her thighs.

Sam felt a surge of triumph on sensing her submission to him. There was no denying that she was beginning to like it – he could feel a tiny, but sensuous flexing beginning inside her trembling vagina, and her whole body was beginning to shiver in anticipatory pleasure. He had won, he, the lowly farm worker, had succeeded in taming this heretofore haughty wife of his boss, who had so often looked down her nose at him! He could hardly believe his luck in catching her playing with herself in front of those dirty pictures of her husband in the study that afternoon.

Tiny mewls of pleasure began to spew from Sandra's lips and she leaned back against Sam and began to writhe, her loins churning in simulation of copulatory rhythm. She was being subjugated by the betrayal in her body, her will to resist curbed by the greater mastery of desire. Awareness of the reality of the situation was fading; consciousness of the growing tingle in her vagina was taking its place.

"How does that feel now, Mrs. Peters?" Sam breathed. "How do my fingers feel touching your pussy?" His other hand was working at her firm rounded breast, squeezing and tweaking the hard turgid nipple through her sweater. Then, with a sudden upward movement between her legs, he ground his fingers hard into the wetly throbbing opening of her cuntal passage and wormed their stubby tips far up inside her.

"Ooohhhhhhhhhh…" Sandra moaned, jolted by the searing entry, tormented by the grating of his nails against her sensitive inner membrane. His fingers continued their wild rotatory plundering inside her, and Sandra felt weird new sensations cavort through her body. Oh God… This is better than when I did it… she thought helplessly in the daze of her passion, as she pressed her now hungrily pulsating clitoral bud down on the relieving hardness of Sam's hand.

"You really love it now, don't you, babe?" he gloated, hardly daring to believe that this was really happening to him, that his own boss' proud little wife was really squirming under his manipulation.

"Oh yes," she hissed through passion-clenched teeth, "Oh yes, it feels so good… Mmmmmmmmm…!!!"

Sandra's entire crotch was a throbbing mass of aroused nerve endings, and she felt as if an uncontrollable fire had been kindled there. Her clitoris felt round and hard and was pulsing strongly with the heated blood of desire, and the swollen fleshy outer lips of her hair-lined split were moist with passion. Chills rippled through her spine which contrasted with the heat which was rising from her groin, rising up to cover her face and neck in a hot, rosy flush.

She was moaning uncontrollably now, unconscious of everything but the delicious pleasure which was seeping into every crack and crevice in her weary body and infusing her with a joy she hadn't experienced for a long time. She felt as if she was soaring on the wings of some magical mythical bird which was flying high and taking her to a warm heavenly place where he could deposit her in a comfortable nest where nothing or no one would ever harm her again.

And suddenly, she was there, in that unreachable nest, gliding down into a feathersoft resting place.

"Oooohhhhhhhhh…" she chanted, "I'm there… oh it's so good…" Her hips were jerking in a heathen rhythm, and she was mashing her vagina down onto Sam Maguire's tiring hand in ceaseless motion, and her hotly seeping pussy juices simmered down onto his fingers and lubricated them completely as they continued to instigate new and exciting pleasure inside her. Then, finally, when the heated sensations of passion had subsided and her body was reduced to convulsive twitching, a blanketing peace came over her and suddenly he left her alone to slumber in her long sought magic nest.

Sandra didn't know how long she was asleep, and it was dark when she woke. Blindly, she groped her way into the bedroom, and threw herself down on the bed, not bothering to remove her slacks or sweater. Her slacks were slipping down around her hips, but she was too tired to care. All the feeling of pleasure had deserted her body, leaving her an empty shell of misery and guilt. She could hardly allow her mind to dwell on the disgusting event from which she was just recovering, and her brain, almost jeeringly, refused to even reconsider the delight her body had experienced, but insisted in emphasizing the lewd aspect of her abhorrent submission to the farm hand's lewd handling of her naked vagina.

Feelings of self-loathing rose up in her and filled her with contempt for her own weakness. Kaleidoscopic pictures of her husband in different pictures with different girls, performing different prurient acts of self-gratification tripped through her mind, lascivious embroidery on the photographs she had actually seen, and they tormented her into a state of humiliated frenzy, until finally she dropped off into a fitful, disturbed sleep, her mind insisting in a last crippling blow, you're as bad as he is…