The harvest moon shines down on me as I duck through a hole in a fence that was once at least partially mine. I look around to make sure no one is out here to see me. Except for the occasional sounds of the farm animals and the insects, the night is silent so I move on. I cross into the cornfield and notice that the corn is already thick and very high. I try very hard not to make any noise as I stealthily move through the stalks of ripenening corn. In the center of the field there's a small clearing where all of the corn stalks have been cut down to the ground. It's a relatively small area, and in the heart of the field can't be detected from any direction except directly above. Its placement doesn't even allow it to be seen from the upper levels of the farmhouse that I spent most of my life making into a home. Even in the middle of the day this small clearing can't be seen unless you're flying directly over it.
"Took ya long enough ta git here," said Bert, as I stepped into the clearing.
"I was trying to be quiet," I whispered.
"I didn't really expect you to be on time anyway," he sighed. "You were always late for everything even back when..." he stopped in mid sentence and I wondered what he was going to say.
There were so many ways that he could have completed that sentence. "Back when we were married," was one way. "Before you became a whore or slut," was another. The one that hurt the most of course would have been, "Back when we were in love." But Bert didn't say any of those he just motioned with his hands and I lay down on the soft ground. I pulled my skirt up and removed my panties. Bert knelt down between my legs and started to rub my vagina. He was very gentle, and I began to moisten almost immediately. Perhaps it wasn't his gentle stroking, maybe it was just the fact that he hadn't called me in two weeks. He inserted his finger in my vagina and began slowly moving it in and out a little at a time, then inserted a second finger when I began whimpering quietly. "Bert I'm a big girl, I can take it," I hissed.
It wasn't that I wanted him to hurt me, but I wanted his dick in me so bad that I was prepared to take a little bit of discomfort to get it. It wasn't just a want, it was a genuine need. I found myself at times dreaming of Bert making love to me in the big soft sleigh bed in the farmhouse. I wanted to feel him kissing me and ramming his big dick in me hard, and cumming deep inside my vagina. Bert was 45 now, and I was 39, so It wasn't out of the question to hope that he could get me pregnant one more time. But it would probably never be.
Bert squeezed my breasts and gently pushed his dick into my opening, filling me with warmth. Almost involuntarily my legs spread even farther, as he began thrusting himself inside me. He used slow and steady strokes at first then gaining in both force and tempo until he was just slamming me. I watched his face intently this time, to see if what I'd seen 2 weeks ago was real or not. As he continued stroking my pussy I noticed that he had closed his eyes, and was making that face that only a wife, a lover or a mother could love. Then he lowered his body onto mine until we were united down our lengths. His arms reached around and under me as if he was trying to pull me inside of him.
I was watching his face so intently that I lost touch with what my own body was doing. My own orgasm caught me completely by surprise, and I felt my legs clutching him desperately. My own arms pulled him further into me as his pulled me into him.
"Oooooh" he exhaled, though he was trying not to make any sound. There it was he lowered his face to mine and as he lost control of his bodily functions temporarily as he came, I saw it. I was very sure now. Suddenly he stopped moving his face towards mine, but his lips had already started to pucker. I quickly raised my own lips and kissed him before he got out of reach. I would have given every dime I had in the bank right now, to feel his semen spurting inside of me the way he used to, but he had shot all of his baby juice into a condom.
He quickly turned his head to the side and spat then wiped off my kiss, but it was too late. I knew that he had wanted to kiss me while he was fucking me. And the look in his eyes told me that no matter what, there was hope. That maybe someday, there might be more. No matter how guarded he tried to be, I was sure from that look that way down deep inside of him, he still loved me. Maybe someday when all of the pain and hurting was over, there'd be more than what we had now.
But if all I could hope for was these late night booty calls, I'd take them.
"Gotta go, T... ," he began. "Miranda will probably wonder where I am." He must really be off his game tonight, I thought. First he lets his guard down so I could clearly see that there might be a little bit of love left for me. Then he almost kissed me, and didn't slap me when I kissed him. But now this was really big he had almost said Tina, he had almost used my name. After over a year of referring to me as whore, or slut, or skank, he had almost called me by name.
"Bert, can you make it tomorrow?" I asked. "Please don't make me wait 2 weeks again."
"I don't know," he said slowly. "I've been trying not to call you at all. I hate myself every time I do. I'm just weak and worthless. Miranda deserves far better."
As Bert slowly headed back to the house, I knew that he'd circle back by the barn and then go to the house. That way if Miranda was looking for him; she'd think he'd been in the barn.
I lay there on that soft ground with a warm feeling inside me. Then on a whim I looked around in the moonlight and found the used condom he'd discarded. I licked the end of it with my tongue and then swallowed all of the contents. It should have been mine anyway. It used to be mine.
Bert used to kiss me all the time, now he wouldn't kiss me if his life depended on it. Even when there was no one around to see it, he just wouldn't do it. He used to love eating my pussy, now he wouldn't even allow me to give him a blow job. He used to beg me to do that. I picked myself up off the ground and started slinking back through the corn to the road. From there I'd just walk the half mile to my little house.
I'm sure a lot of you are wondering why a 39 year old woman is sneaking around and fucking in cornfields like a high-school whore. It wasn't always this way. Bert and I used to be married. There was a time when that man loved me like there was no tomorrow. We were high school sweethearts and we married young and we still have 2 beautiful children, who moved to the big city when they got done with school.
We had a great life. Our house and farm are beautiful. We don't have to worry very much about what we grow or when, because we grow corn and a couple of other staple crops for one company. A big supermarket chain uses our crops to make their own store labeled products. Good steady money every year. Not like some farmers who have to scrape and just barely make it. We were very lucky. I guess the problem was with me. I'm the one who fucked up paradise. You see Bert and I were happy like I said. But I was the one who spent all of her time dreaming while Bert spent all of his time working.
I didn't quite live in the real world. I existed in a fantasy life of Audrey Hepburn movies and dime store romance novels. My name is Tina Johnson. I'm moderately pretty I guess. I'm kind of a corn fed farm girl type. That means I've got a big ass and sturdy legs. Almost everyone around her is built like that though. My best friend Miranda on the other hand, is different. Miranda is really pretty and she's thin, like Audrey Hepburn. When we were growing up she was too thin. None of the boys liked her. Miranda went away to college and came back a career woman. She works in a store about 40 miles away and drives there every day in her car. She dated a lot of the guys in town and never seemed to stay with any of them. Over the years she became like a member of our family she was here so much.
She's the Godmother of both of my kids. She took care of me when I was sick and Bert had to run the farm. She was the shoulder I had to cry on when things weren't going well with Bert, and the one who defended me when he was sure that I was wrong about things. She was also the one who tried to pump some common sense into me before I went and fucked up my life. She really tried but I was so far from reality that maybe I just couldn't hear her.
I wanted my life to be a romantic fairy tale like "Breakfast at Tiffany's," or "You were never Lovelier." Any of those 40's musicals would do. I wanted to be wined and dined and travel to wonderful places. But my life was not only not like that, my life was in a rut. I felt like I was on a treadmill. I kept doing the same things over and over and over again. Bert had to do them over and over too, but I never saw that. The life that I had started to seem like a prison to me. I couldn't see any of the good in my life, I saw only boredom. So last year, after my daughter Kathy, the youngest of our children moved to Chicago, I started telling Bert that I wanted us to sell the farm and move to the city, and travel.
.... There is more of this story ...