Chapter 1

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft, mt/Fa, ft/ft, Fa/ft, Consensual, Lesbian, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Brother, Sister, Polygamy/Polyamory, Oral Sex, .

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - An unusual farm girl discovers passion from an unexpected direction. This is a relatively old story, in fact the first I felt good enough about to show to others.

All her life Daisy had had a sort of hankering. She didn't know what for, but she was about to find out.

She lived a simple life, out on the farm. She did her chores, feeding the animals. What little enjoyment she got was from reading anything she could get her hands on.

This included anything from the farmers almanac to ... well this is where Daisy discovered just what her hankering was.

One day a neighbor who had heard she liked to read, dropped off a box of books. They were a collection of mostly pulp novels and junk.

Daisy thanked him kindly -as anything was better than nothing- then set about digging through the box.

"What a bunch of crap!" she thought to herself as she was digging through it.

"Why, some of these books don't even have covers!"

She went through it anyway, dividing the books up into categories. She found some westerns, and only a few of the romance novels she really liked. Most she had already read.

She just threw the books without covers into another box. Nothing got wasted out on the farm; junk books without covers could still be used to light the stove in the morning.

It only took her a couple of days to exhaust the few romance novels, then she was back digging.

The westerns held little interest for her. She just didn't see anything that she could read. Out of desperation she started digging in the box of books without covers.

She found one that had something to do with romance, but was hard to read. She dug again. Finally she settled on a Greek romance translation.

She settled down in the hayloft. Mostly she liked hanging out up there cause her brother and Pa never did a lick of work, so were unlikely to find her there.

She started reading.

The book was some sort of collection of love poems. Most weren't very good. Then she got to a section that caught her interest.

They were deeply moving poems, about the object of one woman's desire.

Suddenly as Daisy was reading she realized that the object of this woman's desire ... was another woman.

At first this bothered Daisy greatly. How could a woman want another woman? It just didn't seem natural.

She kept reading, trying to fathom it.

After she had exhausted all the poems, she found herself going back and re-reading some of them.

They seemed to touch something deep inside her. At the time she didn't know what. Even so she was strangely attracted to a couple of them.

She read them over and over again. After several readings, she had some of them memorized. They talked of grace and tenderness.

Over the next month or two, she mostly forgot about the book of poems. She had other things to occupy her time than silly nonsense about a woman who desired another woman.

Even so, the poems began to come back to her. One night, in her room she got to thinking about it.

Daisy's body had come to term several years before, but she found little interest in the farm boys who lived around her. They were sweaty and callous. Folks about thought of her as a tom-boy. She could -given a mind to- lick most of the boys who had ever taken a shine to her. She had done this often enough, most stopped trying.

The memories of those boys flooded back to her as she thought about tenderness and grace. These were qualities that all of them lacked. But she knew several women who had them. She wondered if she did.

She got to wondering just how attractive she herself might be -she didn't think to notice she meant to other women.

She got out of bed and moved in front of the looking glass.

She stripped off the night shirt and gazed at her reflection.

Her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. At night she let it out of the pony tail. She was just 17, about 5'8" and 130 lbs ... Her legs were strong and sleek. Her stomach firm. Moving up, she had her mothers breasts. The damn things were always a nuisance. They were larger than the ones most of the girls her age had. She knew that they were largely the reason that she had to lick many of the boys who bothered her. For some reason they all wanted to touch them.

But now, catching her reflection, they looked kind of nice; they were large, but they were firm. On the ends, were the large dark circles of her nipples. She thought about feeding a baby on them and the thought repulsed her.

Without realizing it, she began to feel over them. She squoze them softly and then she touched the ends. She got a funny feeling between her legs. She got to wondering why a woman would want to have to feed a baby. What did it feel like, to have one sucking on them?

Sort of out of curiosity she lifted one up, and found that she could just reach it with her lips.

She started to suck upon the nipple.

The funny feeling between her legs increased. She found herself rubbing all over her breasts. For some reason her breath got heavier. When her hands wandered down of the soft patch of golden hair and between her legs, her breath caught in her throat. She continued her rubbing, watching herself in the looking glass.

She remembered how she had let Will Lewis touch her a few years back. He had suddenly pushed one of his fingers up inside her. Something had gone pop and it had hurt like the dickens! She had left him with a shiner on his left eye, and had hardly let anyone touch her since. Just the one other. Phil, her brother Bobby's friend. They had actually done it. But it was quick and clumsy and not very satisfying.

Daisy turned a bit and looked at her backside. It seemed firm and sleek. She knew that the boys all liked to watch it. She didn't know why, but it did kind of seem pleasing to the eye.

She moved back onto her bed, but continued to rub herself all over. Her breathing deep and regular. Her fingers moved down to where Will had touched her. She had done this herself many times since. She liked it. If Will had gone just a might slower, she might not have hit him at all, or at least not so hard.

As Daisy caressed herself she thought that she didn't really want boys to rub her. Their hands were so rough! They scratched her skin and made it red. She had to be careful herself because of the calluses her own chores had left. She thought about having her body rubbed by soft hands. Her mind went back to the poems again and she began to see some sense in them. She decided she wouldn't mind a woman with soft hands rubbing her body.

She wasn't all tom-boy, her mama had taught her that she had to shave her legs and under her arms. Then she rubbed her legs with lotion. They were smooth as could be. She thought about a woman touching them.

Suddenly she had a desire like she had never had one before. She began to pump her finger in and out of herself. She lifted a breast up to her lips and sucked on the nipple. Something built up inside her that she had no control over. Her breathing started to come in gasps and she started to sweat. Suddenly the feeling between her legs grew enormously. She rubbed at the hard protrusion just in front of her vagina with her thumb as she stroked inside of it with her finger.

The wave of contractions that swept over her body caught her totally by surprise. She had never felt anything like it. She cried out and lifted her hips off the bed as her abdomen gripped itself hard. She felt the contraction gripping at the finger inside her. It seemed like something in her mind exploded and she cried out again. It seemed like it lasted a week. Then she fell back on the bed gasping for breath.

The feeling of pleasure that seeped through her body was like nothing Daisy had ever felt before. She felt warm and tingly all over.

She lay back as her breathing slowly returned to normal. The last thought on her mind as she drifted off to sleep, was that this is what it felt like when women rubbed women. What she felt was described in the poems she had read. She didn't understand them then, but she did now.

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