Chapter 4

I walked into my neighbor’s house feeling like a lamb walking into a lion’s den.

Big old Rick, Amy’s dad, my buddy and business partner, looked at me with burning eyes as he stood up from the table.

Amy’s Ma, his good wife and my long ago girlfriend, sat and sobbed into her hands, unable to look at me.

Amy herself, my young fiancé, sat still, with mixed emotions.

Well, she’d told them then.

Told them I’d proposed to her, half my age, their only daughter. That I’d asked her to marry me, and that she’d accepted.

Rick stepped towards me.

He was only slightly taller than me, 10 years older, and tough as nails. Rick was a quiet man, slow to anger, but the kind you just didn’t mess with. He was my match for sure, and a fight between the two of us, on any level, would be a terrible thing.

“You son of a bitch! He said loudly, “I can’t believe you’d propose to Amy without even talking to me about it first.”

“Well Rick, it was kind of spontaneous.” I said guardedly, checking my footing, readying myself for whatever my big tough neighbor was about to throw at me.

Rick spread his arms wide; “This is the best thing to happen here in 20 years! Give me a hug you bastard!”

“I can’t believe it.” Eliza sobbed, “Our daughter is going to stay!”

“I canceled my flight.” Amy confirmed, sounding just a touch nervous.

“I knew everything the second I saw that ring on her finger.” Eliza said, pointing at my first wife’s ring on her daughter’s hand.

“Come on into the living room, Ken. We have to talk about a few things.” Rick said, taking a couple of beers from the fridge.

I followed him into the other room and we sat down opposite each other.

“Look Ken, I know I’m a bit old fashioned, but I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you and Amy don’t ... see too much of each other before you’re married, know what I mean?”

Rick was no fool; he must have been aware that something more than sincere looks had gone on between Amy and me already. Of course he wouldn’t know that his blue eyed girl knew more tricks than a Nevada hooker, and had been practicing them on me since coming home for a visit a month before.

“I get you Rick.” I said non-committal; but I knew I’d have to agree. After all, he wasn’t trying to kill me, which would have been within his rights in these parts.

“Does Amy know about you and Elisa?” he asked.

“Hell, Rick, I forgot you knew about me and Elisa. Anyway, that was a long time ago.”

“We never talked about it, but I always felt a bit bad about taking her from you.”

“Hey rick, that was almost 30 years ago. And when Helen and I moved in next door, you and Elisa were as welcoming as any neighbor could hope for. Anyway, I told Amy about it.”

“So have you guys decided on my dowry?” Amy asked, coming into the room.

She was so beautiful, she took my breath away for a second. I felt as though I were in a fog; could this really happen? Young fabulous Amy, settle down with this old farmer?

“Your dad wants 20 cows, but I told him I ain’t going back into dairy.” I told her, “Besides, I want it Asian style, Rick has to pay me for taking you on. I’m angling for his new JD bailer.”

“You can take my daughter, Ken, but there’s no way I’m ever letting go of that bailer!” Rick laughed, which was a rare thing, and I knew we were going to be ok.

I had to keep working, but I had an overwhelming longing to spend my time with Amy.

And that was no problem at all, because she felt the same way, and just hung around with me as I repaired some machinery in the shop or rode around the fields looking out for anything untoward.

We had sex a couple of times, hidden in the cornfield like kids.

It was weird to think that the last time I’d had sex in a cornfield was 30 odd years earlier, with Elisa; Amy’s ma.

There was something about it, the need we both had to do it together; to seal our betrothal, to make sure our passions weren’t fading.

My cock felt right when it was inside her strong fertile body; her firm breasts against my chest, her long legs wrapped around my hips, her lips on my mouth as we came together in the fresh air made up for our many differences.

Dinner every night was with Rick and Elisa, one big family. And it was as if it was perfectly right. Amy seemed to grow more beautiful every day, the stress and worry sliding away from her. I could only hope she’d feel the same way in the years ahead; that she’d be content here on the combined family farm instead of the chic Mediterranean beaches and villas she’d been enjoying. Content with me, healthy but uncultured, just a simple and honest farmer, when she’d been living with all kinds of fancy folks when she was in Europe.

Sometimes, it seemed impossible; yet she appeared so happy here on the farm, where everyone loved her. Where we always would, no matter what.

That’s the thing, you see; Amy was young and beautiful. Those strangers over there, they might love her now, but what if that beauty were to fade? What if she were sick or broke? Would they all come to help her then? Because we would. We were family.

Amy’s ex lover Isabel came from Spain for the wedding.

“I can’t have that woman stay at my house.” Rick told me in private.

“Why not?” I asked.

“We never talked much about our beliefs, Ken. But she ... well, that Isabel was the one who led Amy into sin. You were man enough to agree to do things my way, so how can I let that woman stay under my roof with your fiancé? It just wouldn’t be right. Besides, our place is already getting pretty crowded, what with my sister here for the wedding.”

“Well, I guess she could stay at my place. I’ve got lots of room.” I said naively.

Elisa wanted to do some shopping it town, so she drove in with Amy. They spent the night there and drove back with Isabel the next day.

The first thing you noticed when you met the Spanish woman was her size; she was tiny, only reaching my chin. The next thing was her beauty; Now Amy is a beautiful woman, but Isabel had something about her that seemed almost otherworldly.

Her face had a shape, her eyes a bit bigger than normal, her skin seemed to glow slightly translucently. Her jet black hair swept back around her shoulders casually, yet even that was somehow utterly attractive.

This was the woman Amy had fallen in love with, and I could see why.

She looked at me, measuring me up. It was weird; like her eyes were weapons, at once alluring and dangerous, attractive and powerful.

Her mouth and lips, her high cheekbones, had that wild Latin beauty to them, like Penelope Cruz.

But she wasn’t young like Amy; the fine lines around her mouth and eyes betrayed her, she was probably near 40.

She smiled coolly at me as we were introduced. I shook her small hand, then lifted her bags from Elisa’s car and took them into the house.

Things were getting pretty busy; it was only a few days before the wedding by then. But I had a call from a horse breeder about ordering some hay from us. Elisa likes selling horse hay, we get top dollar in cash. So I went into the hay barn to check the stock, which we always did before selling to horse farms [horses are real sensitive].

I was just finished, when I saw 2 figures coming in the door. It was bright outside, and dark inside, so they wouldn’t have been able to see me. But I could tell it was Amy and Isabel. The light was shining through Amy’s tangled blond hair as she towered above the short actress from Spain.

I stepped behind a hay bail. It wasn’t like me, but somehow I wasn’t quite myself that week; stress you know.

They came in, talking quietly as they sat on some spilled hay against one of the bails.

“How can you marry that cowboy, he’s old enough to be your father!” Isabel was saying.

She had a sweet, musical accent. Not at all like Mexican.

“So? You’re older than me too. Besides, he’s totally hot.”

“Well, if you like the Marlboro man I guess he’s ok.” Isabel conceded, “He’s the one you told me about?”

“Yeah, I had a schoolgirl crush on him. I just wanted to have a little fun while I was here, but it turned into ... well, this.”

Come on, Amy; how will you be happy here in the middle of nowhere? Why don’t you come back to Barcelona with me?”

“I thought we were split up.” Amy said.

“We were split up and got back together before.” Isabel said. “Don’t you love me? Didn’t we have fun together? The parties, our friends...”

“Isabel, don’t! I’m getting married, you have to support me. You have to understand, I do love you, I did have a great time with you ... But this is my home. I love Ken too.”

“But why Amy?” the Spanish woman cried, “Sex with the guy next door I can understand, but marriage?”

“Because Ken loves me like no one else ever did.” Amy said quietly. “He has everything I need, and I have what he needs too.”

“But you have to move in your life, you can’t just stay where you happen to be born.”

“I did move; and now I’m moving back. Isabel, don’t. In Europe I’m a fun young American girl no one takes seriously. I’m a farmer at heart, Isabel; and Ken is my future. “I want to have a kid or two, and that means I need a man I can rely on, and family.”

I moved over a little, until I could peek around the bail. I had my back to a dark area, so I would have been hard to see there, but not quite invisible.

There was my Amy, with her Spanish lover in her arms. They were kissing, but somehow it seemed harmless after what Amy had said.

Why was that, I wondered? If it were a man, I couldn’t have stayed quiet; I would have confronted them. But another woman? What could they do?

The kiss was light, feather light. Isabel was brushing her luscious lips across Amy’s mouth, fingers gently caressing my fiancé’s face.

“Tell me again how you love me.” Isabel said seductively. Who could resist her, I wondered? What man or woman could deny a voice like that, a face so beautiful?

Amy slipped into Spanish, her voice somehow softer and quieter in that language. And although I couldn’t understand the words, I could hear the strained passion in her voice.

“Then you must come home with me.” Isabel said.

“I am home.” Amy replied. “Maybe you should stay here with me and Ken.”

Isabel laughed; “I don’t think your husband or your father would appreciate that arrangement much.”

“Well, my dad might be a little uptight. Ken might be into it though! He has a kinky streak, he’s fantastic in bed Izzy.”

“Is that what it’s really about?” Isabel asked, “Are you sure you’re not being taken by a big cock?”

“He’s not that big, not like Justin or Marcel.” Amy said, “What Ken has is passion. When we do it, it’s different. The emotions don’t come from the orgasms, the orgasms come from the emotions. I’ve always had feelings for him; it’s more than sex, Isabel.”

“Shit.” Isabel muttered. “Are you sure it’s not just guilt about what happened to his wife? What do your parents say?”

“My mom caught me out when I came home after the first time Ken and I were together.” Amy confessed conspiratorially, “And she actively encouraged it. Mom thinks Ken is a saint. My dad is more conservative, he almost blew a fuse when I told him, he said he’d never allow me to marry Ken. Haha!”

I wondered if Amy had agreed to marry me just to get back at her old man. She’d never forgiven him for shooting her old horse after it caused the accident that killed my wife Helen.

“Ken is wonderful, Isabel, and great in bed too. He’d never betray me. Yes, I have to give up some freedom, but I get a lot more freedom Isabel. It’s clean here, I belong here.”

She leaned back, and Isabel was half on top of her. I could see Amy’s hands on the European woman’s back, I could see a tongue between their mouths.

“He’ll want babies.” Isabel argued.

“I already told you, I want babies too.” Amy told her friend. “And I want them here, with Ken as the dad and my Ma around. Don’t you get it, Isabel? This is not me running away. Europe was me running away. I’m more than a pretty face here, and that’s important to me.”

And I had doubt; could this marriage work? Even if we went through with it, would Amy stay faithful to me? I was a lot older after all, what would happen in 10 or 20 years, when I’d be 60, 70 years old, and Amy just 43? I might lose my strength early ... or I might not.

Although I couldn’t see the two women well in the dim light, my mind filled in the details of their beauty. I could see their hands moving across each other, I could see the kiss that neither wanted to break, I could see the passion that they shared.

My cock twitched; my instinct was to join them. My brain knew that wasn’t likely to work.

“AMY!” Rick shouted at the bright doorway, “Are you in there?”

“Shit!” Amy hissed, “It’s my dad!”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m here.” Amy hollered back, getting up quickly and brushing herself off before his eyes got used to the light.

“Everyone’s looking for you, your ma wants to fit your dress.” Rick said, walking in.

He looked from one of them to the other, and I could see he was angry. Rick might walk and talk a bit slow, but he’s no dummy.

“Good lord, Amy, you’re gettin’ married in two days!”

Amy looked guilty as she scurried out, her friend trying to look a bit more dignified as she ignored Rick’s furious glare.

When they’d all gone, I snuck out too, feeling like a creep.

I felt a bit awkward about sharing my house with Isabel after that [not that it seemed quite right before].

I was used to living alone anyway.

But that night, as we walked back across the fields after dinner at Rick and Elisa’s house, something was different.

At first, I thought it was me. I resented her for trying to steal my bride of course.

But then I realized she was walking very close to me. So close, I could smell her expensive perfume in the clear cold night air. So close, our hands brushed together once or twice.

When a woman and a man are alone together, especially inside a house, there’s a tension. An unspoken awareness that they could do it if they both wanted to, and no one would know.

As we walked in and I turned on the light in the living room, I turned to find the small intense women still standing as close as during the walk. She looked up at me, her big dark eyes attempting to consume my decency. All I had to do was reach my hand forward one inch, and it would touch hers. All I had to do at that moment was reach for her, and I would be kissing those perfect lips that had been locked to Amy’s in the barn just a few hours before.

But I knew better. Isabel wasn’t interested in me, she was interested in my fiancé.

“Goodnight, Isabel.” I said, and took my hardon upstairs to bed.

“Goodnight Ken.” She answered, and went to her room across the hall.

Even if I hadn’t known it was a test, I was sure I would have passed it. Pretty sure anyways.

The wedding was a glorious affair; we had perfect weather, a quick service at our local church, then a huge barbeque at Rick and Eliza’s house.

Amy was resplendent; aglow in her sparkling white dress, closely fitted to her strapping young frame, her tight ass and big tits crying for my hands, mouth, and cock to consummate our union.

We tried to slip away a couple of times, but there were too many people around.

Denny Ventura was there, his young eyes unable to stay away from my hot young wife. I knew he’d had her just before I proposed, and I wasn’t too jealous. After all, I got to keep her. Well, hopefully.

Amy and I tried to slip into the hay barn, but there were some local kids in there smoking dope. I had to throw them out and lock up the place; Smoking in a hay barn! What idiots.

When we finally got home that night, we were both too exhausted to do much. But I did enjoy helping her out of that dress and, at long last, into my bed again.

“We’ve never slept together.” She pointed out as I turned off the light.

“Are you nervous?” I asked.

“You bet. You don’t snore, do you?”

“Of course not.”

I set my cock along the crack of her ass, wrapped my arm around her and put my hand on her tit. We slept as man and wife for the first time.

As always, I woke up early, as the dawn slowly lifted the sky.

In the bed beside me, my young blond bride slept.

I just looked at her for a while, with a mixture of love, lust, and nervousness. We did have great sex; there was long term affection between us, deep roots. But I’d seen her with Isabel; I’d seen her slip easily into the other woman’s arms. Could Amy be faithful to me? Her young face was even more beautiful in sleep. I thought of how she loved the land, her affinity for the growing crops. She’d given up good opportunities to be here with me this morning.

I got up and went downstairs. I made coffee and watched the dawn from the front porch.

Our pre-marital affair had been a bit clandestine. I had no idea what Amy liked in her coffee, or if she even took coffee in the morning. Did she like a full breakfast? It was all still to discover.

After a while, the caffeine had its effect, and I went up to the toilet.

I went back into my bedroom to find Isabel in bed with my wife.

They were just sitting there, side by side, talking. They were sitting half up against the headboard, and the quilt was up to their tits. Amy was naked, and Isabel wasn’t wearing much. A thin satin bra held her moderate breasts in place.

Their knees were up, and I couldn’t tell if they were touching. I could see Amy’s hands, but one of Isabel’s was under the quilt; exactly where, I couldn’t see.

“What’s going on?” I asked neutrally, as if we were hanging around the kitchen instead of the bedroom.

They would have heard me come upstairs, they would have heard the toilet flush. I hadn’t caught them by surprise.

“Isabel is jealous.” Amy said.

I sat down on the edge of the bed next to Amy, near her knees, facing the two of them. My stomach was wobbling a little. What does a man do when he finds an extra woman in his marital bed?

“I know how she feels.” I said, “Is there something I should know?”

“Isabel is having trouble letting go and accepting that I’m a married woman now.” Amy said.

“She loves me!” Isabel blurted out, making no move to leave my bed or my wife.

“Is that true, Amy?”

She looked away for a moment, her usual self confidence momentarily defeated.

“I love you Ken.” She said, “Isabel and I split up two months ago.”

“We split up many times.” Isabel added, “But after you get enough of being with a man, you come back to me.”

“This is different.” Amy said. “I’m married! This is my home, and Ken is my man.”

She put her hand on my leg, which was reassuring somehow.

“American marriage, everyone knows how long that lasts.” Isabel sniffed.

“You don’t understand.” Amy countered, “You’re afraid of men.”

“You know that’s not true.” Isabel said.

“What happened to you wasn’t sex, it was abuse. I know you better than you think, Isabel. I know what you really want, but are too afraid to have. You always made me tell you every detail, didn’t you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Isabel said.

“And it got you excited.” Amy continued, “You even encouraged me to do it with someone you fancied, then made me tell you what he was like.”

Isabel was silent.

“You pretend to be lesbian, but you’re not.” Amy went on relentlessly, “Look Isabel, I do still love you; but you’re going to have to accept that I’ve made my decision. I’m not going back to Barcelona, I’m staying here with Ken.”

“He is too old for you.” Isabel spat out.

“Cut the crap.” Amy said, “I know you’re attracted to him yourself.”

“I am not.” Isabel said unconvincingly.

Amy sat up and twisted against me, putting her hands behind my neck. She twisted her head around to look at her girlfriend.

“Watch closely.” She said, then faced me again, and kissed me.

I remembered watching the two of them in the barn, the gentle sensuous kiss they shared. Now it was reversed, with Isabel watching jealously as Amy demonstrated her affection for me.

The kiss went on, Amy’s hands slipping under my tee shirt, stroking my back as I held her close, but not tight.

My wife pulled away; “Well?” she asked Isabel.

“Well what?” Isabel said

“Are you turned on? Watching me with my hunk husband; sex by proxy, that’s what you’re into, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Isabel said unconvincingly.

Amy got up on her knees beside me, her full firm breasts dominating the room as she pulled my shirt over my head and threw it to the side. She ran her fingers up my hairy chest as she looked over at Isabel, who was now alone under the quilt.

“Look at this body.” Amy said, “So strong, a bit hairy. Look at him and tell me you don’t think he’s beautiful.”

Isabel was just staring, her eyes wider than usual. I guess I was feeling the same way; fairly shocked, more than a little turned on, and quite unsure how I should respond.

I put my arm around Amy’s smooth shoulders and then let my fingers slide up into her hair. I looked at Isabel too. It was my turn now.

It would have been easy to like her; she was a lively, personable woman. And as I said before, a world class beauty. But she’d been trying to get between Amy and me, trying to steal my wife away. I’d been holding it down, staying civil because she was my guest. But the truth was, I didn’t like her. She was sneaky and manipulative, all the undesirable traits we country folk associate with the city people. She was trying to take my bride from me, and that’s just about the only thing I wasn’t willing to share. Not completely willing anyways.

“Take your shorts off, Ken.” Amy said.

“Huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to honor and obey me now?” She demanded playfully.

“They leave the ‘obey’ out these days around here.” I said.

“Come on, get ‘em off.” She insisted, “I want to show Isabel my new husband’s cock!”

“Jesus, Amy...”

“OFF!”

Well now; maybe I shouldn’t have done it, I don’t know. But I thought, to hell with it, I’m gonna show that dike bitch my thing, and she’s gonna see what Amy likes. She’s going to see that Amy is a woman who likes men. At least some of the time.

So I stood up and pulled them down. My cock bounced around between my thighs, taunting the two women with my manhood.

My new bride reached for it without getting out of bed. I looked at Isabel, but her eyes were fixed on Amy and my cock.

Look, I’m just a farmer; I only had a few girls before I was married to Helen, and only one after [Amy]. I didn’t know anything about this kinky stuff except what I read, and I suspect that’s all bunk.