As I sat on the red eye flight out of Vegas, the events of the day flooded my mind. The last words to my boss, Tony had been, "Fuck off." I had no idea if my job as a cocktail waitress was still intact and at this point I didn't care. I was tired of getting groped for free and being expected to stroke the egos of middle aged men with "sticky" fingers that always found themselves stuck to my ass.
I'd recently shed the latest of my "Vegasy, all about money" asshole boyfriends. So, my only thought after arguing with Tony and being given some "time off" was heading home to Iowa. Immediately after leaving the casino, I'd phoned my Mom. She had informed me that she and Dad were headed out of town on vacation but that I was welcome to stay. She'd said Stacy would come by and do some errands on the farm for Dad but that it needn't bother me. Stacy Miller and I had been on the cheerleading squad together and her farm was next to my parents'. I hadn't realized she'd been helping Dad but thought it would be a good time catching up with some high school friends.
I had packed my bag with some casual clothes and left behind my club hopping halters and leather and boarded the plane with a simple flowered sundress. I was heading home "small town girl" style. My long, layered reddish brown hair was pulled loosely into a braid at the nape of my neck.
Soon, I found myself safely on the ground and in a pint-sized rental car driving toward my childhood home. "I need this break," I thought to myself.
As I approached the long, gravel driveway that led to my parents' farm, I was surprised how much it had changed in my eyes. It didn't seem nearly as big after living in the always overdone, oversized City of Sin. It also seemed so plain and not flashy. It was exactly what I craved, simplicity.
I found the key my parents have hidden in the same place for more than 40 years. I opened the door and called out just to make sure Stacy hadn't hung around late. When I heard no response, I let myself fall into the worn recliner where my Dad always sat. The cool breeze was flowing in from the screen door. It was like I'd been in a time machine that had brought me directly from the hustle and bustle of Vegas to an older time.
After settling in, I walked onto the front porch and gazed at the fields stretched out in front of me. It was strange to see so much open land. I again felt the pleasant, calm breeze fall against my face. As I stood lost in the peace of it all, I noticed that my childhood tire swing still hung on the huge tree in front of the house. "You're 35 years old Rachel, get real!"
My mature logic lost out. Like a child, I found myself running for the tire swing as if I was trying to outrun my brother 25 years ago. I fought the tendency to yell, "Last one there is a rotten egg!"
Without a care for the state of my dress, I jumped onto the tire swing. I knew the black surface was probably leaving a stain on my yellow, short sundress and upper thighs, but I didn't care. I found myself letting my legs reverse under the tire and swing forward as it began to move. I was swinging higher and higher, my skirt blowing in the breeze. With the thin, silk panties I was wearing, I could feel the breeze tease my inner thighs and outer lips with each swing.
As I let go of more of the leftover stress, I found myself becoming aroused. "Nobody is here. Why not?" I thought.
I stopped the tire swing, propped a hand on the trunk of the old tree and shimmied out of my panties. I touched my pussy lips gently and could feel that the long forgotten feeling of arousal had surfaced again. I felt a wicked grin on my face as I murmured to myself, "Back to the swing!"
I sat down on the swing and grasped the chains with my hands. As I began to increase speed, I could feel the air tease my clit. Without full control of it, I started to moan, in an uninhibited way. I hadn't felt this excited in years. Holding onto the chain of the swing with one hand, I used the other to gently spread open my pussy lips. As soon as the air hit my moist inner lips and clit, I moaned in ecstasy.
Before I knew it, I had 2 fingers buried inside my pussy. I had eased off on the swinging and taken the other hand off the chain and it had involuntarily found my clit. The freedom of the situation was so stimulating. Here I sat, basically in the front yard, fucking my own hole and fingering my clit. My moans intensified as I began to rub more intensely and put more pressure on my pleasure bud.
As I felt my climax rising throughout my body, I put full pressure on my clit and moved my fingers in and out of my pussy more and more quickly. As sudden as an earthquake, I felt the rumble between my legs and came. It seemed to start at the tip of my head and move quickly throughout my body. After briefly stopping at my clitoris, causing a gushing of squirting cum to exit, the orgasm finished all the way to the end of my toes. An exhausted squeal of pleasure escaped my mouth.
At that moment, I sensed movement and looked toward the porch. Had I imagined the hand that was escaping around the side of the house? When I stood up to look there was nobody there. "It was just my imagination." I headed back into the house for a long bath and a good night's sleep. Stacy was supposed to come by tomorrow and I was sure we'd be hitting all the "fun spots" we'd frequented when we were in high school. I'd need sleep to keep up with her.
I awoke to the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen. I dragged my naked body to the rocking chair long enough to slip on a t-shirt and undies before heading downstairs. Stacy and I had so much to catch up on before hitting the local hotspots. I trotted down the stairs and rounded the corner of the kitchen grabbing a brown piece of warm toast from the toaster and spinning around. "Hey, girlfrie……"
I froze. Standing in front of me was not Stacy Miller, my childhood friend. In her place was a man. All I could think of was, "I'm standing half naked in front of a perfect stranger!"
"Who are you?" I yelled. The Vegas woman in me grabbed the closest thing, a yet unused frying pan.
"Hey, calm down," he said, moving toward me with his hands raised in defense. "No need to hurt me." He stuck his hand out in a greeting gesture. "I'm Stacy, your parents' employee, the man who runs the farm now."
I couldn't hide the look of confusion and disbelief. "Why hadn't my mother told me this? Or had she?" I had been so caught up in everything back west that I didn't remember the last thing my mother had even said to me.
Upon realizing my silly mistake, I began to giggle.
"So, I'm funny now?" he asked. He had an adorable, slight annoyed look on his face and the more I looked at him, the more I realized how stunning he was. He stood there in worn Levi's and a t-shirt. From the sleeves of the shirt, escaped two tanned and toned arms, obviously those of a working man. His brownish, bronze hair was a bit beyond needing a haircut and the bangs hung down on his brow. But what I noticed most were his sparkling green eyes and dimple-filled smile. He had that farmboy freshness, but he was a man. The stockiness of his legs and chest told me that.
Finally, I regained focus. "No, it's not you. It's just that when my mother told me that Stacy would be here to do some errands, I assumed it was Stacy Miller from the next farm, my high school pal. Thus, my running half naked to the kitchen for breakfast. I'm Rachel, by the way. I really should get a robe or something. Just stay right there."
I left before he could respond. I grabbed a terry cloth robe that I found on the back of my parents' bathroom door and ran like a schoolgirl back down the stairs.
"There, is this better?" I said entering with my arms outstretched like a supermodel.
"You look great, but I didn't think you looked bad before." He said it with such a serious face I couldn't tell if he was flirting or just stating a fact.
"Thanks," I said, suddenly speechless.
We finished breakfast in a comfortable silence. I began to clear the table.
