Jason Cannon: The farmer_s daughter

She met him at the door. "How'd you know I was home alone?" she asked when he openly kissed her and fondled her tits and ass in the front hallway.

"We got a party line… remember?" he said, laughing loudly.

It was better in the bed than it had been in the barn but the result was still the same. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't will her cunt to open up enough for him to gain entrance.

Again he wasn't angry or frustrated. She was, and she was sure now, that her lack of ability and her youth would drive him back to Sue Ann.

He surprised her. This time he urged Alma Mae to do for him what he had done for himself at the conclusion of their last try.

This time Alma held his cock in her hand caressingly, fondling it, skinning it back, letting its throbbing hugeness fascinate her. She leaned her face closer and closer to the cockhead until it was very near her lips.

He couldn't resist it.

He took her head in his hands and guided her lips to his throbbing cockhead. She seemed to sense what he wanted and, with courage, flicked her tongue out to lick at the tiny eye in the bulbous head of his cock. He moved his hips forward to encourage her.

"Suck it, Alma. Let the head of it go into your mouth and lick and lick and suck on it!"

She opened her mouth wide, felt the cockhead enter, and then her lips were skimming along the glistening staff. She liked it, the hard and the soft of it all at once in her mouth. She let him know it by taking more and more of his cock inside her. It filled her mouth until it searched out the rear of her throat.

He took her free hand and placed it under his balls. She hefted them, testing their weight and the texture of the hairy skin.

He groaned and moved his hips in tempo with her bobbing head. From the loud sucking sounds coming from her mouth he knew she had built a passion for his cock. Alma Mae was a virgin and he might not be able to fuck her tight cunt, but she was more than satisfying him with the joy of her throat, her tongue, and her cocksucking, saliva coated mouth.

Suddenly she felt the cockhead swell. It filled her throat as the barrel throbbed and pulsed in her hand. His balls too, seemed to take on a life of their own as great globs of hot cum spurted into her throat. Her head was nearly knocked back by the tremendous surge of his hot jism.

Letting his dripping prick slip from her mouth she looked up at him, smiling as she swallowed his huge load in one massive gulp.

At least twice a week throughout the rest of the summer they found the time and the way to slip away together. He would go down on her, slipping his hot tongue between the lava-like folds of her cunt. She had her first, spine-tingling come that way, with her thighs pressed tightly around his head and his tongue greedily lapping at her clitoris.

But still, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his cock inside her cunt. Always, when they were finished with sex, they would lie in each other's arms and she would urge him to tell her, that she was the only one for him.

He did just that right up until the time Alma Mae found him, during the Labor Day turkey shoot, with his cock buried deeply in Sue Ann Halle's big cunt.

She had followed them away from the picnic grounds and watched while Rafer took her clothes off, spread her legs, and poured his meat to her in the deep weeds that covered the ground by the riverbank.

First she hit him over the head with an old, dead oak limb. Then she told him that the next time she saw him on her daddy's place she would personally put two full loads of buckshot in his ass from her daddy's gun.

Later, Able, being the younger-brother spy that he was, confided in her that Rafer had been doing it all along. The older boy had been fucking Sue Ann on all the nights he hadn't been at their house.

It had become common knowledge around town that wild young Rafer Clooney had gotten himself the ideal situation; one girl who gave great head and another who had a willing and a snapping cunt.

So, for Alma Mae, the glorious summer of her romance and her introduction to sex with Rafer came to a jarring end.

Alma's mother became ill and died in October. So she and Rosebud had to take care of the house for their pa and Able. Alma continued going to school even after Rosebud stormed out of the house one morning over a fight she had had with their father. She had packed and moved up to Memphis for good.

Rafer's grunting efforts became louder as he pulled the wagon up over the last hill toward the house. Alma Mae felt some of the old desire for him creep into her thoughts as she watched the muscles dance under the bronzed skin of his broad back. She could feel her nipples tingle as they rubbed against the material of the halter. She was sure her cunt was secreting juices that would soon soak the crotch of her jeans.

As they passed the wheelless body of the old, wrecked Oldsmobile behind the barn she saw him glance at the car and then at her. There was a broad grin on his face. She knew only too well what it meant. The back seat of that old car had been their special hiding place many times. She turned her head back to the wagon as if she hadn't noticed.

He pulled the wagon in front of the wash house door and started stacking the wood.

"Goin' to the Fourth picnic Sunday?" he asked as they worked.

"Don't know," she replied. "It's only Tuesday."

"Don't have to get mad," he said.

"Sorry," she said, thinking. She decided last summer was a long time ago. She might just as well talk civil to him. "I suppose we will. Rosebud's comin' down from Memphis with Aunt Gussie and the family's comin' over from Groter County. Yeah, we'll all go."

"It'll be a hell of a weekend," he said, moving toward her.

"I s'pose."

"Why don't we make it like last year's Fourth weekend?"

"Or last year's Day weekend?"

"You still got that on your mind, Alma Mae?"

"Why shouldn't I," she said, moving away from him.

"I'd like to say I'm sorry and maybe try to get back together again," he said, still advancing on her.

"It ain't the same."

"Why not?" he said, lowering his hand to the swelling bulge in the front of his jeans.

"'Cause it ain't," she said, still backing away from him. "We're older now, or at least I am."

"You sure are," he said, smiling and grabbing her wrist.

She wrenched free and lurched away from him. Her ass struck the fender of the old Oldsmobile. She rolled to the side, trying to escape him.

He was on her in an instant, his lips groping for hers, his crotch grinding against her pelvic bone, his chest mashed against her massive tits.

"Rafer Clooney, you let me go!"

"Why Alma Mae? I want you… I truly do."

"You let me go… I don't wanna get in no trouble, you hear me?"

"Trouble?" he said, his grin widening. "What kinda trouble?"

"You know what kinda trouble."

"How'm I gonna get you in trouble, Alma Mae… when I can't even get my pecker inside you?"

"Well," she said, her face again turning the color of a beet. "We're older now."

"Does that mean that now I can get inside you?"

Again she tried to get away from him. In the process her left tit found its way to freedom from the halter.

He saw his chance and cupped it with one of his hands. "Jesus!" he exclaimed when he felt it overflow his hand. "Jeeeessus, Alma Mae…"

His hand was hot on her tit. Almost too hot. She felt the old fires start to smolder in her body and mind. But now they were even stronger because now she was no longer a little girl. She was a woman.

When he again bent his head and lovingly kissed her she heard her own voice moaning in response to his tongue. She tried but she couldn't stop the mound of her cunt from responding to the grinding force of his hardened, pulsating cock.