Chapter 1: Farm Living is the Life for Me

“Jean?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’ve found it. It’s a town in northern Indiana named Ligonier, in Noble County. There is broadband and fiber available, as well as a reasonable amount of nearby industry. And there are several properties available nearby that would fit our needs—small parcels of land with a farmhouse outside of town. I’ve bookmarked a few I properties for you to review.”

“We’re really going to do this, Les?”

“There’s no reason not to. We’re both sick and tired of the city, the stress, the noise, the crime, and the high cost of living here. Since the epidemic forced me to work from home instead of an office, and my employer is paying me $190,000 to write code for them, we have the freedom to live anywhere. You hate your job and your pay is shit.

“As you know, some lunatic in California paid me over two million dollars for my late parents’ ordinary house in Sunnyvale. With that money, we have lots of choices for properties in that area.”

“But we’re not going to be farming, right?”

“Exactly. These places are too small to be commercially viable these days as working farms, and the ones I’ve marked have lots of trees around the house with the fallow fields beyond. Like this one, it’s 40 acres total, with three acres of woods surrounding the house. That house is only 28 years old, set back 200 feet from the highway, and has a working and totally private swimming pool out back. And look at the price!”

“I’ll go through the details, but it looks perfect. At that price, we will have plenty of money to update the kitchen and to tackle any other issues. Let me review everything carefully, and I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

A month later, Jean and Les were watching the emptied moving van trundle away from their new Indiana home.

“Only one thing left to do. Oof!”

“Put me down, you idiot, you don’t have the same 20-year-old back like the last time you ... Oh, shit. All right, we’re inside; put me down! I love you, but don’t do that again.

“I intend to stay here forever. This place is perfect; I love it. I love you, too. Wait, now what?”

“I’m going for a swim. Join me?”

“I have no idea what box my swimsuit is in.”

“I don’t know where mine is either, and I don’t care. We have complete privacy, and I plan to enjoy it. C’mon! I turned on the pool’s solar panels three days ago. The water is perfect.”

“It’s a good idea, but a part of you seems uninterested in aquatics at the moment. Let’s try out our new mattress instead, you horny devil.”

Three days later, they were back in the pool, sans suits as usual. It was about 4 o’clock on a warm afternoon, and they were playing and splashing like teenagers.

“Helloooo?” they heard, unexpectedly, and they both rushed over to hang on to the coping at the side of the pool, for modesty’s sake.

A middle-aged couple had come around the side of their house, wearing casual and lightweight clothes suited to the warm weather.

“I’m sorry to have surprised you. I’m Delia, Dee, and this is my husband, Bud. We have a small farm on the property opposite you; it’s the yellow house. We came by to welcome you, and we brought some fresh chocolate chip cookies.”

“Why, that’s so nice of you. I’m Jean; that handsome fella is my husband, Les. I have to admit, though, you caught us unprepared. We still, uh, haven’t found our swimsuits.”

“Oh, pish-tosh. Your predecessors here who built this pool never wore swimsuits, either. Up through their 70’s, Maggie and Leo were out here swimming in the late afternoons just like this, naked. Your trees block the afternoon sun. Both of them were pale-skinned and they didn’t want to get sunburned.”

“I guess they’ve passed; I was dealing with an estate for the property purchase,” commented Les.

“That’s right. We miss them; they were good people. Dee, should we ask?”

“Bud is a little nervous, but he and I really have the same question. Would you two mind if we asked you to reinstate Maggie and Leo’s pool policy?”

“Which was?”

“When they used their pool, they would call us to walk across the highway and join them for a swim.”

“You mean, a naked swim?”

“Yes, exactly. Please say no if you’re offended.”

“You’re welcome to join us, Dee and Bud. It will be fun! You are certainly changing my beliefs about small-town Indiana people. Sorry, I mean, Hoosiers. Or should I call those beliefs stereotypes?”

Their visitors started working their buttons and zippers.

“You’re going to find us to be a lot more liberal than you imagined. Bud, do my bra, would you?”

He fiddled with the four hooks in back, then groped her big boobs once they were set free. Jean heard her husband’s gasp, although he tried to suppress it. Les’s reaction didn’t surprise Jean, because Dee must have had “40-E” marked on the bra that was now down in the grass.

Under the water, she gave Les a reassuring little tug to show her understanding.

“Just so you know, we’re both 39. That’s actually 39, not a joke number. We met in high school, and we spent a lot of time after school getting naked together. We’ve just never liked to wear clothes, especially in the pool.”

“Well, Les and I are 32 and 31, respectively, and ... Holy Fuck!”

Bud had just dropped his drawers, uncovering a truly enormous tool.

“He showed you that in high school? Weren’t you scared?”

“No, Jean, because we were fearing pregnancy. He did fit in my mouth but only barely. Also, he’s crazy for tit-fucking. Bud, let’s get into the pool before you frighten our hosts even more.”