Verse 1: There once was a farmer

Sweet violets, sweeter than the roses,
Running all over from head to toe,
Covered all over with sweet violets.

The young farmer was sitting on his front porch, watching the sunset, and thinking. He could see the barns, and the fields -- currently bright green and growing well. Sounds filled his ears -- the soft lowing of the cattle, the tramping hooves of the horses, even the creaking of the buildings as they cooled after the warm, early summer day. The scents of the farm surrounded around him, and he enjoyed them all, even the ones other people might find objectionable -- such as the smell of manure. The smells meant home to him. The most nostalgic scent was the smell of sweet violets, a memory from his childhood, and from the funerals of his parents and grandparents. Now, the farm was his.

A few years earlier, he had earned a Bachelors degree in agriculture, and last year completed a Masters in business; those gave him the mental tools to handle the farm. He had worked on the farm for years, first under the eyes of his grandfather, then his father, and finally on his own after they both were planted in the little cemetery behind the house; that gave him the physical tools to run the farm -- his body was tall and strong and he could handle the chores and livestock easily. Sharp investments by his grandparents and parents had paid off the mortgage long ago: after that they expanded the acreage and improved the buildings and equipment, as well as keeping a good amount in bonds and stocks; that gave him the financial tools to run the farm. What was missing was the social part of the farm -- he had no family.

Since he lived in a small town, there were not many eligible females near his age. Even fewer were interested in the life of a farmer's wife -- too many early mornings and late nights, and too much physical labor kept them from knowing the splendors of the sunrises, the tastes of really fresh foods, and the feelings of a completed and fulfilled life that the efforts and surroundings produced.

Most of the girls moved to big cities -- or at least bigger towns -- as soon as they graduated from the tiny high school. The ones that stayed were usually engaged before they graduated high school, or already pregnant. There remained either the ones who were too lazy to move away, or the ones who were willing to move, but got in trouble and had to come back home. Trouble did not always mean pregnancy; often kids felt that leaving home meant there were no restrictions and they found out that the world imposed harsher penalties on misbehavior than families.

So, the farmer thought, I need to find a young woman, and teach her about the joys of being a farmer's wife. She needs to be strong; tall would help, too. A good mind is important, but most of those have been ruined by education or sheer laziness. And, pretty wouldn't hurt, either. He set out his goals and the steps he would have to take to reach those goals.

There once was a farmer who took a young miss
In back of the barn, where he gave her a...

"Kiss! Please kiss it! My boob, harder. That's it! Bite the nipple." Miss Michelle Anthrope was whispering intently into his ear as he teased her breasts. "God, I'm so hot! If I hadn't promised Daddy that I was saving myself for marriage, I would let you rip my panties off in a second and just do it right here."

'Right here' was a carefully tended lawn behind the barn. The whispers were solely because she was outdoors and feared that someone would hear her moaning words. The lawn was enclosed, but she could see the blue afternoon sky and knew her voice might easily be heard.

The back of the barn made a windowless wall for one edge of the lawn. The other three sides were each composed of a long, narrow bed of purple flowers, backed with a wall of head-high hedges and a row of shade trees behind them, and a solid board fence almost eight feet high outside the trees. The fence was joined tightly to the barn wall. There was only one opening through the hedge, on the side opposite the barn, and it led to a gate, which was currently latched shut. A door into the barn, also latched, allowed entry from that direction. The shaded grassy area was used for croquet and other lawn games. Right now, Michelle and John were playing a very old lawn game called sex.

John McGregor had promised to show her around his farm. Michelle thought is was funny how he asked -- "Come with me. I'm going to show you all the great things about my farm." But she went with him. He had found her at the center of their social world -- the country club. The words he spoke to her were surprising and she did not move until he took her hand and pulled. She really didn't want to make a scene, so she climbed into his pickup and sat quietly as he drove away from the dance pavilion and the tennis courts, over a few paved roads, and then down the long dirt road that led to the tiny farm house. She had just left her tennis lesson and was wearing sneakers and anklets, tight shorts, and a cotton pullover shirt, all in white. But somehow, she had ended up almost naked on this lawn, the scent of the purple flowers filling her brain, feeling her fair skin dappled with shade and afternoon sunlight, with him kissing and touching her and the sensations making her body go crazy and her mind stop working.

He had started the tour leading her by her hand, but with each place they visited, and each sight he pointed out, he had touched more and more of her. Up her arm, across her shoulders, down her back and just grazing her butt; she barely noticed, but her body responded and she began panting. Each breath filled her lungs and brain with the scent of the flowers, planted almost everywhere she looked. The touching moved to her head, and face, and then started down her front. Each new touch heated her skin and burned its way up her nerves to her brain. Each communication was a command, "Come," "Look," "Turn," "Stop." And she obeyed.

That was another thing -- she never obeyed anyone. Her father complained all the time about her not obeying. Her mother always looked disappointed because she had broken some rule. The professors in college had written her scathing notes about following process and procedures. Even her tennis teacher told her, often, that she needed to listen and obey in order to improve. But John gave her no choice -- she was led; there was always his large, gentle hand guiding her, not allowing her to turn the wrong way or back away from some sight.

About the fourth stop, he had also kissed her. By the third kiss, she was returning them. When she began kissing him before he even leaned over, he knew she was ready.

Then John had promised to show her something special. He led her through the gate, behind the tall fence, into the shady area, and shut the gate securely. A tug on her hand spun her slowly, so she could look around, and she saw the barn, the fence, the gate (now closed), the trees shading the space, the tall hedge, the purple flower border, and the lawn! The lawn was composed of the smoothest, greenest grass she had ever seen.

He said it felt even better than it looked, and told her to take off her shoes and anklets to feel the grass with her bare feet.

She did, and her eyes closed with bliss at the sensations. Then he kissed her cheek, and then her lips. When their lips separated, Michelle inhaled and the force of the flowers' perfume almost knocked her over.

He held her arm, keeping her still, and directed her to lay down so she could feel the grass on her legs. Before she moved down, he pointed out that the lawn was protected by the high wall and that no one could see her -- she should shuck off her shirt so she could feel the wonderfully soft, sensual grass on her back as well.

For several seconds, there was no movement, but it took only a slight lift with his hands on the bottom of her shirt for her to continue the motion with her own arms and remove the cloth entirely. His large hands helped her lie down and stretched her body out on the soft, sexual, scented surface. His warm voice promised that her bra covered everything safely. Then his lips stroked hers again -- she was dizzy from the feelings, and dizzier because the flowers' scents were even stronger at ground level.

Now the grass stroked her back and the backs of her legs, and his lips met hers again. "That feels great, doesn't it?"

Michelle had to agree, but was unable to form any coherent words; her mouth was blocked by his, and his hand was stroking her bare skin. There was nothing she could object to, but he was touching her skin, and the grass was touching her skin, and it made her brain buzz. Between the blades of tender grass caressing her back and his lips and hand moving across her front, she didn't even notice when his other hand popped the waist button and slid the zipper down on her tight tennis shorts, disclosing her little bikini panties.

"Roll over and feel the grass on your stomach, too." John whispered, then kissed her again. As her lips pressed back against his, he lifted one of her shoulders and pulled his lips away from that side of her mouth; rather than lose his kiss, she followed his motion and found herself prone and his body leaning on her back. Now she could feel the grass stroking her thighs, stomach, and one side of her face, and his lips caressing her shoulder. The intense feelings blocked her brain and she did not notice when her bra was unhooked and pushed to the side, the straps moved softly off of her shoulders.

The stroking continued, and the bra straps were moved over and off of her arms. "Lift just a little, and you will feel the grass even more." He whispered. A strong hand pulled her left shoulder up and another tugged the loose bra from under her body. The motion caused the grass to stroke her breasts and the passionate sensations blossomed even more. "Isn't that wonderful?"

The hands were sliding warmly down her back. When they reached the waist of her loosened shorts, they continued down, dragging that garment with them; still she did not notice that her thong back panties were all that remained of her clothes. When the hands reached the ends of her legs, they threw away the empty shorts and started back up her steaming body.

"Sometimes I come out here and take all my clothes off, just to feel the grass all over me. At night, I can watch the stars. During the day, I feel the sun heating me on one side and the softest grass in the world on the other."

Michelle felt his hands touching her skin and his lips on her face -- the side which was not in contact with the grass. She soaked up the warmth of the sun above her and the coolness of the grass beneath her. She positively reveled in the sensations of his skin stroking hers, from her neck down to her toes and back. And, she felt herself becoming even more aroused.

"One more time -- turn over. You will feel the grass on every part of your back. It is so extraordinary, so sexy. You will love it." Again, his strong hands guided her and her body obeyed. She rolled over, baring everything to him except a small patch covered by her thin panties, and they were becoming more transparent by the minute as her body responded to the sensations, wetting the thin fabric.