Wife Not Wife
by Publandlady
Copyright© 2026 by Publandlady
Romance Sex Story: 1913. An abandoned wife discovers love, happiness, and fulfilment in an unconventional new life.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Farming Historical Sharing .
I am ashamed to tell you this but my husband left me. Don’t think badly of me.
At the same time he took with him the three months’ rent that was due on the farm, as well as the young barmaid from the ‘Charlton Inn’ in Charlton Marshall. I thought that the sinking of the Titanic had been a disaster but this was far worse because it was my life that was changed. Not so much the loss of Mr Yeo, or Emily Eves for that matter, but having to leave the farm that my parents had held for so many years, and where I was born, was a grave heartache.
Even after selling nearly everything that I owned, including Mother’s furniture and her little bits of jewellery, I still couldn’t raise enough money to convince the landlord to let me stay on. Besides, he doubted I could manage the little farm on my own; he was probably right. So, I sold the few sheep that we had, the pig and the chickens too.
I heard that the Charlton Inn needed a replacement barmaid so I got myself a tiny room in the village and took the job.
The change of fortunes would have been bad enough but the gossip was worse. People wondered why, after twenty-five years of marriage, Joe Yeo felt so dissatisfied that he had to run off. They felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for Emily. He was a brute of a man; intimidating, cruel and insanely jealous. He blamed me for everything that went wrong on the farm, including the fact that we’d never had children. I can’t say that he actually ever really beat me but he did make me feel worthless and unloved.
For most of my life I had felt worthless and unloved. My teachers let me know that I had little to offer the world because I was a girl. My trusting nature only made things worse. So many times I believed that people had my welfare at heart only to find out that this meant only if it furthered their interests. The result was that I found it hard to get close to anyone.
It came as a great surprise to me to find that I was quite good at my new job; and not just in the pouring of drinks. A young barmaid can get by with just having big tits but a more mature one, shall we say, needed to possess a rarer skill; they needed to be a good listener.
Women can easily talk to women yet men don’t often share their feelings with anyone. But get a few pints of ale inside him and a man will open his soul to the mother confessor standing behind a bar. I soon learned to tut gently at the way they were mistreated at work, or at home. At the lack of joy in the marriage bed (or sometimes a wife who demanded more than a husband could ever give alone). I heard about every trial that could befall a man.
The exception to this was the ‘Apple Man’. The Apple Man rarely talked about himself, he just asked about me. About my life, my hopes, my fears. He listened to my answers with those kind compassionate brown eyes. He knew little of my past. He never judged me. He just listened.
The Apple Man took a room at the inn every Thursday and Monday night without fail. I never saw him at any other time.
In answer to my query, the landlord’s wife told me that he was called the ‘Apple Man’ because he grew apples up in the north of Dorset and sold them to the rich folk over the border in Bournemouth. Using a horse and cart, he made the journey there and back nearly every week. At about the midway point he stayed here at the Charlton Inn.
He smiled when, armed with this inside information, I asked him, “Why do you make such an arduous journey?”
Eventually, after a little thought, the Apple Man replied, “Well, most people in the north grows Cider Apples but I grows Eating Apples, sweet delicious Eating Apples. For some reason the rich folk of Bournemouth can’t get enough of ‘em.”
“Don’t they grow apples in Hampshire?” I asked.
He chuckled, “Not like mine, Maidy, not as sweet and delicious as mine.”
Feigning a little offence, I smiled, “And where do you get off calling me Maidy? I’m well over forty and you are younger than me.”
“A tad, maybe,” he said.
“A lot,” said I.
“But you are still marriageable.”
“Now, don’t you be so cheeky. Everyone knows damned well that I am married and that my husband ran off and left me. So I can’t marry anyone,” I scolded, a little embarrassed.
“I’d still marry thee.”
To cover my blushes, I disappeared into the back room.
The following week, as the bar grew less busy, we spoke again.
“Have you paid any mind to my proposal?” he asked.
“Proposal, what proposal?”
“Why, marriage of course.”
Stunned, I spluttered, “I don’t even know your name and I couldn’t be your wife if I did.”
“But you could be my wife not wife, as it were.
“And if all that’s holding thee back is a name, it’s Nat, Nathaniel.”
I turned away saying, “Don’t be such a fool!”
In the cold light of day, I was rather glad that I hadn’t been allowed to keep the farm; the farmer’s life is hard enough when there are two of you but a woman on her own...?
Still, it was the only thing that I really knew much about. Right from a child, farming had been in my blood. I thought that it would be something that Nat and I had in common, something that we could talk about other than his crazy notions.
You may wonder why I kept talking to him. I did so myself when he wasn’t there but as soon as I saw him it was just something I was drawn to do. A sort of magnetism, you might say. If I am honest with myself, I liked him. He was the first man that was ever interested in me as a person.
“So, how is it running an apple farm on your own?” I questioned.
He laughed, “I don’t. I don’t have a farm, I has an orchard.
“I’m not a farmer, I’m an orchardman; although some folks call me an orchardist, but that do sound a bit too fancy for me.”
I laughed, “So, how is it running an orchard on your own?”
“I don’t.”
“What! You have a wife?” I said, not hiding my surprise.
“No, gawd bless you no, I has two younger brothers.
“But since you have asked, it’s a darn sight easier than running a farm. At least I think so.
“The trees don’t get upset if you turns up late to milk them. They just expects you to prune them and keep the pests away. Mind you, the harvest is duced hard work. You has to store all the apples in the barns wrapped snugly in straw. That way there are plenty for the folks in Bournemouth for the next year long.
“But as you are concerned at my lack of a wife not wife, perhaps you’d care to fill that role, Maidy,” Nat concluded.
“Mommet!” I said.
He laughed.
“I grant you, she is not bad looking for her age but she must be a cold fish in the bedroom. Otherwise why would Joe feel the need to run off like that,” I overheard the landlord say to his wife.
The anger rushed through me but I controlled myself. It wasn’t true; the bit about being a cold fish in bed, anyway. In truth, I quite enjoyed some of the strange things that my husband did to me but I knew that he didn’t do any of them for my pleasure. Although I didn’t care much for some of the other things, particularly the times when I was tied up, hurt or humiliated.
No, Joe left me because he wanted a new younger body to make use of. That was the truth of it.
What angered me most was the fact that I couldn’t defend myself. To do so would mean telling what went on behind closed doors. No woman could discuss that, let alone admit that she enjoyed any part of sex at all.
From that day I made up my mind that the only escape from the gossip was to escape from the village.
Am I being unkind when I say ‘typical man’? When you don’t want them to talk about something, they don’t shut up. When you really need them to start a conversation, they talk about anything but that.
Nat asked me about my childhood, about the farm, what I liked to eat, anything but the wife not wife thing. Obviously, I couldn’t bring the subject up, could I? I wasn’t sure about it but I wanted to know more.
Finally, after two and a half weeks Nat asked me if I was happy.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“You know, with your life here behind that bar.”
“It’s not behind the bar that bothers me. It’s what is said behind my back that riles me.
“You’d think that they’d have something better to talk about other than if I was a dutiful wife in the bedroom!” I exploded, saying more than I had planned.
“And were you?” he asked gently.
I hesitated before saying, “I was, since you have asked.”
“Did he appreciate it?”
“No, he just thought of me as his rightful possession.”
There was a pregnant silence before Nat said, “I wouldn’t take you for granted if you came home with me.
“I would love to have you as my wife not wife.”
I smiled kindly before asking, “How exactly do you think that would work then?”
“Well, I know that I would have no hold over thee, neither would I want it.
“You would be free to say yes or no to any part of it at any time. Not just the tupping but anything in the home too.
“The orchard is far from anywhere so the gossip’s words would count for nothing.”
I asked, “I would have to do the household things?”
“Of course, that is if you don’t mind?” he answered.
“What about the far ... I mean orchard?”
“No, but there is a kitchen garden that Gabe and Zeb tend. If thee wishes, you could help with that. They would still do the heavy bit but you could decide what they plant and when depending on what you likes to cook. Thee can cook, can’t thee?” Nat asked, as if he’d suddenly realised that perhaps he should have asked it sooner.
“Yes, I can cook,” I laughed.
“Thank goodness for that, none of us can.
“I would make sure that you have all the groceries that you need and I would let you have a little pin money for your own bits and bobs,” Nat added.
I tutted, “I’m not after your money, I have my own that I will bring with me.”
“No, I knows that and I’m not after no dowry neither but a woman needs things that a man don’t.
“When thou says ‘that I will bring with me’, does that mean that the wind is turning in my direction?”
“The Apple Man is giving me a lift to my new employment, he is going that way,” I announced to the landlady as I was seated alongside Nat, with my solitary trunk in the back of the cart.
“Don’t you wish to leave details of your whereabouts in case anyone asks after you?” she enquired, bitterly.
I just laughed as I said, “Who on earth would seek me that I would want to be found by?”
We headed northwards.
As the cart trundled onwards we talked and we laughed. We laughed and we talked.
“So, exactly what age are you?” I asked.
“One and forty years.
“And if I may be so bold as to ask, how old are thee thyself?” Nat replied.
“I suspect that you will be bolder than that at some point, Nathaniel but I am forty-five,” I answered, with a grin.
He smiled, “A good age but I would have said younger.”
“And your brothers?”
“Gabriel is twenty and Zebedee, a bit younger.”
“Oh!” I said, “I rather thought that they would be closer to your age.”
“No, Gabe was born two years after father left. Mother said these things happen sometimes. Zeb followed eighteen months after.”
Avoiding a more obvious question, I asked, “Has your mother been gone long?”
“We lost her about twelve years back,” he answered, sadly.
“So, you’ve had to bring the boys up?”
“Yes, I’ve been an older brother, mother and father to ‘em,” Nat said, with a little pride in his voice.
“Mother not mother,” I laughed.
“Aye.”
“And Father not father,” I added.
“As you say,” he chuckled.
Something deep inside made me feel that I could put my trust in a man like this.
I’m not sure what I expected but I didn’t expect the house to be so perfect. Not too large but large enough and set in the centre of a vast well kept orchard. The barns that Nat had spoken about were set at a distance to the left. With the kitchen garden at the rear of the house and a clear fast flowing stream beyond that, the contrast to our old rundown farm was striking.
To be fair, the three brothers owned the orchard while we only ever rented the farm so their commitment to the property was understandable. Nevertheless, their love for the place shone in every detail.
Inside, the home was spotless. Somehow I had expected housework to be low on the priority list of men living with no female hand to guide them.
I was desperate to control my nerves as Nathaniel introduced me to Gabriel and Zebedee but I could tell that they were as nervous as I was. Politely, each of them shook my hand. It was obvious that they had been recently instructed on this unnatural, to them, formality. I can’t imagine that, living so far from the nearest village, either of them had been called on to greet anyone in this manner before.
Gabe enquired, “What would you like us to call you?”
“Judith will do for a start but I will answer to most things if you’re not comfortable with that,” I laughed.
The two young men chortled at the joke which cracked the ice quite nicely.
“Now if one of you will show me what there is in the larder, I shall see what I can muster by way of a meal.
“When I’m about that, perhaps you fine looking gentlemen will unload my trunk from the cart and take it upstairs?” I said.
Nat looked pleased with the way things had started. He said, “Whilst you are doing all that I will see to the horse. He needs to eat too.”
Never in my life had I seen such a well stocked store room. It had all manner of dry goods as well as fresh fruit and vegetables. There was milk, eggs, butter, pickled vegetables, game and two flitches of bacon not to mention a huge hunk of aged beef and a great wheel of cheese wrapped in a cloth. Plus jar upon jar of clear honey in various shades of gold.
By early evening, we were enjoying, if I do say so myself, a fine rabbit pie.
The men admitted that they had tried to make pies before but each of them had been a disaster. I was pleased, pastry was one of my strong suits.
They all ate the meal with relish, which I took as a compliment. I liked both of Nat’s brothers but I could sense that they were reserving their judgement on me. Don’t misunderstand me, they were polite; almost too polite. I knew that I would have to work hard to gain their complete acceptance.
Once the meal was over, the three brothers sprang into action. The table was cleared and they commenced washing up. Like a well oiled machine, each went about his task. I tried to help but Zeb simply took me by the arm and eased me into an armchair. Placing a small glass of sweet cider into my hand, he said, “You have played your part, it is time for us to play ours.”
Never in twenty-five years of marriage did Mr Yeo ever wash up; or do any sort of housework for that matter. It wasn’t until everything was scrubbed clean and returned to its proper place, the floor swept and the range restored to its gleaming blackness that I was allowed to move.
We spent a pleasant evening talking and joking. It was reassuring to learn that all three brothers shared the same sense of humour.
Eventually, Nat arose from his chair and started to turn down the oil lamps.
“Now off to bed with you two,” he said.
Both young men grinned at each other but did as they were instructed.
Finally alone, Nat said softly, “We have made up the small room for thee. My room is across the hall, give it time and come to me only when thee feels ready. There is no rush.”
“I think that I am ready now,” I replied gently.
“Good,” he responded.
Just like the rest of the house, Nat’s room was clean and tidy. It contained the largest bed I had ever seen.
“Room enough for two?” he enquired.
I laughed, “I could get lost.”
Nat sat on the bed and said, “It may be best if you got undressed now.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed, “Is my trunk in the small room too, I don’t see it in here? My nightdresses are in it!”
“That’s a shame,” he smirked.
I smiled, not knowing if he had planned things this way or not. As I started to unbutton my blouse, I asked, “Are you just going to sit there and watch?”
“Oh yes I surely am!”
I removed the blouse and then unfastened my long skirt and allowed it to drop to the floor. I stepped out and bent down to pick up and fold both items. I laid them over a chair.
The same thing happened to my underskirt and stays.
I soon stood in just my stockings, garters and boots. Middle class women wore bloomers, I know, but I never had.
Putting one foot on the chair, I leaned forward to unbutton my boots.
“Leave ‘em on!” said Nat, quietly.
“Leave them on?”
“Yes, they are so bright and shining and polished brown that it would be a pity to take ‘em off.”
Unsure, I said, “But I will have to leave my stockings on too.”
“Another shame,” he laughed.
I perched on the edge of the chair and waited, it felt slightly cold against my bare skin.
Slowly, Nat got to his feet, bent forward and undid his boot laces.
“Not leaving them on?” I enquired.
He just laughed as he kicked the boots off.
Slipping the bracers from his shoulders, he unbuttoned his shirt, removed it and threw it in the general direction that his boots had gone. The unbuttoning of his trousers made me draw a deep breath but their undignified removal made me laugh.
To add to the comedy, he swung them around his head like a cowboy from ‘Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show’ before letting the trousers fly into the corner. I laughed; as much at his cock slapping from side to side as his lasso work. I was relieved to see that he had no need for knickers either, I should have felt awkward if he had.
Now naked, Nat took me by the hand and led me to the huge bed.
“Lay beside me, Maidy,” he said softly.
I rested against him, my body in the crook of his arm. For minutes neither of us spoke or moved but then he whispered, “If you will be my wife not wife I will never harm thee or make thee do anything thou doesn’t care for.”
I replied, “As long as that is so, I will keep you as my husband not husband.” And so, with our vows exchanged, we turned towards each other and for the first time in my life I was kissed passionately.
Nat lowered his face to my breasts and licked my left nipple, oh so gently. He grasped the whole tit tenderly and licked the firm brown bud more firmly this time. The taste must have been to his liking because he sucked upon it, both gently but with ardour. I could feel his hard cock against my leg so I reached down to stroke it lightly.
I don’t know but it was as if this gave him permission to go further. Nat passed his hand over my stomach and pubic hair. As he teased a few strands between his fingers I spread my legs allowing him access to my fanny. Lightly, his thumb brushed over my intimate area and found the point where my buttocks began to part. Then he brought it upwards so that it sank into me.
Nat paused like that.
When he was content that I was ready, he began to work his thumb in and out with a gentleness I’d never known before. Sometimes deep but often just circling the outer regions. A whole universe of pleasure in such a confined area. I could have stayed in that wonderland forever but suddenly the thumb was withdrawn only to be replaced by two thick fingers.
What the thumb could do, the fingers trumped threefold. Deeper and wider but still with the same gentle care.
And then they found the usually secluded spot at the top of my fanny. The pressure was light but the explosion was mighty. I cried out as the lightning spread upwards, downwards and outwards through me, through my fanny and even through my bum hole. I shook like an Oak Tree in a hurricane.
“My God!” I cried, “Where did that come from?”
“It must have been hidden somewhere in thee,” Nat laughed, “still I’m glad it found its way out.”
I said, “So am I. Would you kindly fuck me now?”
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