The Haymaer

The bale of hay comes at me unexpectedly. I barely have time to face it and bring my arms up, let alone stop it from bouncing off my chest. I see Angela smile and hear, “Sorry!” through the hay dust. I see another bale lobbed up into the hay wagon and Angela turns to pick it up. I stack the one I have and turn to catch the next one she sends to me. I’m smiling too.

It’s a hot and sticky late July day. Perfect for baling and drying hay but hard on the body. Water seems to evaporate as soon as I drink it. Sweat is pouring off our bodies and after hours in the sun with only a few breaks in the shade, we are tired, thirsty, and hungry. An hour later, the last row is on the wagon as we head back to the barn to stack what we have. It’s after dinner when we finally put the tractor away and wave goodbye to Mr. Barrett, the farmer we work for. As he disappears through the screen door, Angela turns to me and asks if I’d like to go for a swim. There’s a swimming hole at the back of the big field, where the White River makes a sharp bend, and after years of swift water, a deep pocket in the river bed has formed. Big enough to make a shallow jump into. I say, “I’d love to!” partly because the water will be refreshing and partly because I like spending time with her.

I started working for Mr. Barrett less than a week ago. Angela has been here since early June and has his trust. She’s a hard worker, knows how to handle the tractor with implements, and even plowed a few of the fields in June. I am reminded that she has also built up muscle as I remember the bale that struck me with some force. She’s petite, beautiful, and has a mind of her own -- what’s not to like?

Once we reach the back of the field I can see the edge of the swimming hole. Angela takes off her clothes and runs to the river’s edge and leaps into the pool. I watch as her lithe and tanned body gracefully arcs into the water with a big splash. A very wet and playful Angela rises up and yells for me to “C’mon in!” I walk to the edge, strip, and jump in. The water is cool but not cold, warmed by the heat of summer. The current isn’t strong and it’s relatively easy to get a footing.

Angela points to my half visible chest and says, “I really didn’t mean to do that.” I look down and notice a light bruise where the bale struck me. I tell her, “There’s a price to be paid,” and make a dive for her. She shrieks and tries to run away but the water slows her down just enough that I catch her arm. She spins around as I try to get my footing against the current but we both fall over and go under. When I open my eyes in the greenish water, I catch her looking at me and very close. She reaches around my neck with one arm and pulls me close. An underwater kiss followed by a hand on the top of my head pushing down. She makes a break for shore where she flops down on the shirt she threw down. I follow her to the sun-dappled bank and lie next to her.

Grasping her wet hair with one hand I prop myself up on my elbow and kiss her again. This time she makes no effort to move away but instead leans into the kiss. Her lips taste faintly of something like rose water. Her hair feels full in my hand, her body is firm and taut from good care and a summer of hard work. Her hands grab my hair and lower back at the same time and I roll over on top of her. Her legs make room as my hips slide between them. She draws her legs up and with one hand reaches down to guide me into her. She is wet and her eyes do not look away when I look into them and feel head of my cock part her lips.

I slide into her and she exhales softly. I reach down with one hand to grab her hip and shove myself deep inside. Her hips rock gently as I pull back and do it again. She grips my shoulders with bits of grass from the bank sticking to them. We kiss again, tongues probing each other, lips softly biting, and our breath getting deeper by the moment. The tempo increases and I feel the buildup rising deep within my groin. Instinct begins to take over as conscious thought gives way to desire. My mind is filled with the sound of my hips striking her inner thighs, the smells, how she tastes, the heat, and breathing like a steam train with the throttle wide open. She reaches down with one hand and begins to rub her clit. I feel the edge approaching quickly and a moment later the trigger in my mind releases a week of built-up fantasizing inside her.

As my pace slows, her’s picks up. My cock still sliding in and out though softening, seems to be enough to keep her on the edge. Her fingers moving almost in sync with her breathing as her body begins to tense. I lean down to kiss and suckle her breast, and her breath catches while her body slowly winds up like a coiled spring. Suddenly she lets go a long slow and low moan, a train whistle in the distance but getting closer, and then her body snaps open. She tremors and shakes and within a few seconds she is done, little ripples, breathing heavy and fast. A few minutes later, I roll off her and we lie there. We don’t say a word but take another dip, laugh, and get dressed before we head back to our cars.

As she opens the door of her car, Mr. Barrett steps out onto the porch with some watermelon for us to take home. He looks at us both and asks, “Tomorrow?” We reply in unison, “Tomorrow!”