Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Post Apocalypse, DomSub, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - As the world begins to fall apart outside the fences of the family farm, a family must decide their own fate, and decide how much of the world at large they can save.
Bryan was digging into the soil of a garden bed when a feeling of déjà-vu struck him. He grasped a handful of loam in the palm of his right hand and bunched it into a ball, squeezing. He noted that the soil compressed easily and without oozing out between his fingers, indicating near-optimum moisture content. He took the wad of matter and broke it cleanly into two pieces, noting that the appropriate amount of "crumble" occurred. He smiled upon the reflection that his hard work had paid off in constructing the correct soil structure.
Reflecting that he had seen the same action repeated countless times in his lifetime, he looked at his hand. He raised it, fingers outstretched before his face in wonder, then the other. He turned them over before him in wonder looking at both the backs and the palms. Often the partial phrase "like the back of my hand," had passed Bryan's lips as a description of familiarity. However, he noted ironically, that the hands at which he looked seemed almost foreign, but yet familiar. They didn't belong on these arms ... the dirty fingernails, the wrinkled knuckles, the calluses and scars ... they belonged on a man much older, a man whose features were chiseled from the same material, yet by a different sculptor.
"I have my dad's hands," he said aloud. "When did I become my father?" In his mind's eye he could see the gnarled old hands, looking so much like his own showing him how to test the soil. A sad smile crept across his face, as he thought of the old man walking along the field's edge reaching down to scoop up a handful of dirt and see if there was a chance that he could start planting.
Bryan sat down on the ground and smiled broadly. Another old trick his father had taught him was that if he could sit on dry ground for more than two minutes on a bright spring day without getting soaked or cold then it was probably safe to plant corn. Bryan smiled in reflection that his father would likely shake his head in wonder at the things Bryan planted and wonder how a man could live off of fourteen acres, let alone how he could provide for a family.
"Well it isn't with corn, I'll tell you that," he mused aloud. Looking around, even in the early spring, before the April flush of green that would infest the countryside, there were signs of life everywhere. Every direction he turned there were perennial food plants, in various stages of dormancy. Down the hill a few yards was a plot of wheat which characteristically yielded more than times the best yield recorded in the area. "The secret is the rabbits," he said aloud, again speaking to himself, or perhaps to the memory of his father so clear in his mind. "Well, maybe the poultry has something to do with it too."
Bryan had two such plots laid out and grew his wheat crops on a two year rotation, leaving one field fallow at all times. In the late summer, after the wheat had been harvested from the active patch, the clovers tended to come in with a flush of growth that rivaled the spring. Upon that he would cage hundreds of adult rabbits in movable cages and move them daily. The rabbits would decimate the clover and turn it into the finest fertilizer known to man.
The following season the field would grow weeds and clovers. In June when the vegetation got to be almost a foot tall, he would bring out portable chicken pens and rotate those through the plot, making sure that they were out by the first of July. Following the late summer growth, the rabbits were returned and the step from the previous season repeated.
A few months later, in the spring when the frost had not left the ground he would sow the seeds heavily and rake them in, covering them with bits of residue to protect them from the cold and birds. By the end of April the ground would be covered with the greenest carpet, so thick that it choked out any weeds.
By Mid-august he would go cut the straw and gather it in piles and then take it into the granary where he would thresh it in a home-built machine. The straw went to serve as bedding for the livestock, and the kernels were collected and saved for grinding into flour as needed throughout the year.
He would pick the best plants prior to harvest which had most productive traits and segregate their seeds to serve as seed stock for the following year. By doing just that he had served to grow a more productive crop which was best suited to the two plots that he used alternatively every other year. By being attentive to his crop, he was able to produce more on half an acre than row-crop farmers could grow on 15, per the local average.
Bryan was started out of his reflection by a whistle followed by a voice "Hey sexy!" Turning and getting up, his eyes landed on the sight of his wife Silver coming down the hill. His breath caught in his throat for a moment, his Irish complexion burned to the surface with a flush, and a broad smile flashed upon his lips, baring his teeth. "Takes my breath away every time," he whispered.
She was beautiful: medium height, brown hair, brown eyes, high cheekbones, full lips with a killer smile. She was always complaining about her weight but she carried every ounce flawlessly, mostly in her ample top half. She was every man's dream, and yet she was all his. Painted nails, crimson lips, big hair done up just right, and plenty of flash and bling adorned her fingers and neckline. She walked down the asphalt trail toward him dressed in such a way that only she could pull it off: White skirt, black high-heeled boots, her skirt swishing around just enough to show a bit of milk-white skin above the calf of her boots. She wore a flowing orange top with short sleeves which might have been the appropriate color for hunting, but definitely not the appropriate cut. Walking among the bushes and shrubs, stepping over rocks and around a garden bed she might have looked a bit more out of place on the moon, but not much.
Bryan laughed as she got closer. "Sexy eh?" He laughed. "I think you have me mistaken for someone else on this hillside."
She shook her head in reply and strode up, and without a word wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezing him so tightly that he briefly saw stars. Then backing up slightly she brought her lips to his and the fireworks in Bryan's mind went off in salvo after salvo. After a few seconds, a chill which crept down his spine, and a coat of lipstick later he stood dumbfounded looking into her eyes.
With a chill he shivered, gazing into her eyes. "That never gets old." he mused. The wicked smile that she shot back preempted a comeback. "My color looks good on you," she said wiping the lipstick off his lips with her thumb. "That's better." She put her hand on his cheek and they stared lovingly into the eyes of one another for a moment.
"To what does the peasantry owe this visit by such a royal beauty?" Bryan asked flamboyantly waving his arms in mock theatrical gestures.
"Royal pain in the ass you mean..." she retorted. "It's just been a long day and I wanted to come out and see you in your element." She smiled genuinely, her look softening, the confident smile sinking into her face. "And I just missed you..." she added. She wrapped her arms around his chest and laid her face upon his shoulder. "Oh God it's been a day!" she exclaimed in a muffled voice. She stood up, looking up into his eyes in a childlike manner and took his outstretched hand. "Walk with me," she asked, almost pleading.
Bryan brushed his free hand on his jeans and they walked along the path, moving up the hill toward the house, which was still out of sight. As they walked hand in hand silently feeling the grip and warmth of each other's hand a slow wind picked up and the air which had felt warm earlier took an unexpected chill. Silver, who had left her jacket at the house to enjoy the warm spring weather, suddenly found herself shivering in the sudden cold spell. Bryan stopped, letting go of her hand briefly to take his jacket off and slip it over her goose-pimpled shoulders. Slipping her arms through the over sized sleeves of the jacket pulling them until her arms popped out the cuffs and the excess length was bunched around her wrists. Feeling warmer, but still chilly she smiled up. He leaned down and kissed her on the nose, causing her to wrinkle it and frown.
"Hudson!" she cried, calling him by her pet name for him, which was consequently his last name. "You slobbered on my nose!"
He turned back toward her. "I did not!" he protested, leaning closer to her. "Where?" He leaned in, looking for the telltale glare of moisture. He was caught completely unaware when she reared up, and neatly lashed her tongue across the bridge of his nose. He sputtered as she began running up the trail, clacking along in her boots. He wiped the saliva from the bridge of his nose onto the sleeve of his shirt, and then jauntily followed, laughing all the way.
Without the handicap of high heels he was able to catch her in just a few yards. He grasped her around the waist and summarily spun her around where she fell across his chest. Intent for revenge he tickled her unmercifully until she began to beg for fear that she would wet herself. They sat there on the path giggling for a few minutes, enjoying being so close after a long day of separation.
"We should probably get to the house before the kids find us like this and tell us how immature we are." Bryan mused. "I need to pick some lettuce and then I am done for the day."
She nodded. "Are any of the tomatoes ready?"
He shook his head. "Nope, and they won't be for a couple of weeks. Everything is still really green." He helped her up off of the trail, noting that the bit of mud on her white skirt would likely need extra care to remove. She brushed at it with a look of derision but said nothing. Without speaking they walked a few more yards up the hill until they came to a fork in the trail. To the left the trail continued further up the hill but to the right there was a door which apparently led into the hillside.
Bryan stepped up to the door and pulled at it. It opened with a groan as the spring which held the door closed creaked and moaned. He stepped aside, pulling the door open with him, turned and bowed deeply and satirically. "M'Lady," then added. "Royalty first!"
She smiled sarcastically and sauntered through the door in front of him, waggling her backside as she went. He followed.
They found themselves in an excavated room. A walkway stretched out before them for several yards. On their left was a wide shelf excavated back into the hill before running into a retaining wall constructed of old tires filled with dirt. From the top of the retaining wall, sloping down toward the right side of the room was a ceiling made from panes of window glass. On the shelf were grow beds filled with rich looking loamy soil and several of them had vegetables growing.
Bryan left Silver standing by the door and walked over to a nearby patch of red leaf lettuce which was reaching its optimum growth stage.
"What's that one called?" Silver asked breaking the silence.
Looking thoughtful for a moment Bryan finally answered. "Flame I believe." Then he added, "Yeah, I'm sure of it, flame lettuce."
For a moment Silver smiled, anticipating the lecture to come. "Flame lettuce is an heirloom, meaning we are able to save the seeds from year to year and plant them," He began. "I have liked this one because it seeds so well and because it grows an extra month without getting too bitter."
Plucking handfuls of the crimson leaves, he placed them into a plastic grocery bag which had been stored in a similar bag, hanging from a nearby nail. After completely filling the bag he pointed to a nearby tomato plant which had several small green tomatoes dangling from its leafy stems.
"Two weeks before they're ready," he said. She nodded. "I was hoping for some BLT's some of these days," she said.
Taking the bag full of lettuce, he stepped back out the door and held it for her. She followed, falling into step beside him and grasping his hand even as the door closed behind them with a creaking squawk.
They walked only a few more yards before they came to the house, which for anyone unfamiliar with the style, it would seem that there was nothing there but a mound of dirt covered in vegetation.
The house was a heavy duty, double reinforced, post and beam construction, covered in heavy two inch thick sheathing. Around that had been wrapped several layers of black plastic, all sealed together.
A few feet of sand soil and vegetation, and the house blended into the landscape as if it weren't there at all. The only dead giveaways were the windows and doors popping out at surprising angles around the house sized knoll lying before them at the crest of the hill.
Bryan loved that particular fact because the house had never been assessed for taxes and on the entire property he only paid tax for the visible buildings. Someday he knew a tax assessor would likely find their way into his living room and the issue would be raised. But with no building codes to meet and no permits required in his county, there was no reason anyone official had ever set foot on the property.
As they neared the kitchen door Silver smiled deviously, gripped his hand tightly, and kicked backward with her left foot, twisting it in such a way as to make contact with his backside. He looked at her with annoyed amusement, for she raised her eyebrows and appeared to be looking off to the side, pursing her lips in feigned innocence. He smiled, then without turning said, "You are just full of it tonight." He chuckled, then added. "Keep this up and I'll turn you over my knee missy."
"Ooh do you promise?" was the response he received.