Law of the Farm

The next day, after we had breakfast, and once the renters quietly packed and left without a repeat or hint of yesterday's indiscretion, I set about cleaning their room. Gerianne kept a beautiful property. The concrete floors were covered in luscious rugs from Kazakhstan. In one corner was an old sagging leather couch, in the other corner, a small pine table and two chairs. There was some old takeout boxes, probably Indian, in the trash. I wiped and swept and bleached out the sink that ran to a grey water cistern. The little bathroom had a few tissues and dental floss in the trash while the sink held onto a single bead of old toothpaste from the night before. They were pretty clean people.

The second story loft had a thin foam mattress. As I climbed up, I could smell the sex. That warm, wet smell. The copper scent of a pussy in bloom. And the thick musk of a man sweating naked on top of the covers. As I pulled off the sheets I noticed a little wet spot and held it to my nose. I could smell her pussy and my cock quivered again. I thought about her smooth body leaning back on the bed as she smiled and spread her legs. I thought about her nipples bouncing underneath me. Sweat from my body dripping down her ass and into the bed. I was hard again, so I took off my pants to enjoy just standing there with the hot air on my skin. I took another wiff of the fabric and started to stroke. My hand pulled down uncircumcised skin and then pulled up the hood back up over my crest. For just a few minutes, this is how I liked to edge. Free.

Then I stripped the rest of the bed and the pillowcases off the pillows and tossed them over the loft railing onto the couch below. A little box caught my eye under the desk lamp that served as a reading light. Condoms. The foil made a glistening sound as I peered inside. There were a few left, I hope they didn't need these for tonight. I pocketed the unopened wrappers before crushing the box and adding it to the trash bag. You never know. With the vacuum and the trash bag in hand I stepped back out into the yard and I could see a new, silver SUV in the driveway. Her friend must have arrived.

Two figures, the farmer and the guest were already crossing the yard towards the other rental. They were walking behind the grape trellis and I couldn't see Angela's face but she had a spry step, even younger looking than Gerianne. Not what I expected.

I thought I had some time to myself for a quick cool-off in the shower, just long enough to let the well water rain down on my hot chest and head. Once naked, though, with my body standing tall and sweaty in the mirror I got a little touchy with myself. I watched my scrotum rise up from the Cremaster reflex as I stroked my thigh. Slowly I held the base of my soft dick and pulled back at my foreskin. It grew in my hand ever so slightly. I thought about the two guests rutting in that bed and the smell of sex they left behind and I was harder still. I pulled my foreskin till it gave that pleasurable release all the way down my shaft. Then I drew it back up and back down again.

The door knob rubbled, turned, and the wooden door banged against the frame. I jumped in surprise, expecting to see Bill barrel through, but the lock caught the weight of whoever was on the other side.

"Sorry!" I heard on the other side. It was a sweet voice. And much younger than either of the elderly farm couple. "Sorry," she said again.

"Occupied," was all I could shout out before hopping into the shower. As I washed I heard them making lunch which I didn't expect. Clanking plates, clinking spoons, occasional laughter-- who was this friend.

I finished, turned off the water, and dried off with the towel. I hated to put on clothes when I was still damp. Gerianne and Bill didn't mind a quick dash through the first floor in nothing but my towel but given that I didn't know this new guest and didn't want to embarrass anyone, I at least put my t-shirt back on then wrapped my towel into a skirt. The droplets on my back immediately clung to the fabric. I could feel cold wet patches sticking to me. So uncomfortable. With my pants and underwear tucked under my arm I opened the door.

The two woman were eating quiche and little buttered rolls at the main table. For a minute I thought they would silently allow me the grace to scoot by. Until Gerianne called out, "And here is our farmhand for the month, Asher. Asher, this is Angela."

I paused and turned to see a much, much younger woman than I expected. Angela looked my age, sitting there in leggings and a tight sports bra with a tanned chest and shoulders. She had a tall pointed nose, a high and immaculate forehead with hair pulled into a bun. Two sets of hoops hung from her cartilage piercings in addition to little black onyx studs. She had dark wing tip eyeliner but otherwise a minimalist, just-rolled-out-of-bed amount of foundation and make up. She turned her stong and elegant jaw toward me and smiled all the while her deep brown eyes betrayed a flicker of embarrassment on my behalf.

"Hi Asher," she giggled, "sorry I almost walked in on you."

"Oh, yeah, no problem. That's what the lock is for." I tried to keep going towards the stairs but Gerianne could not take a hint.

"Asher is a surgeon. He just finished his training and took a few months off. The two of you are quite the pair of educated professionals. It's really quite remarkable how much you two do for the community."

"I guess I should call you Dr. Asher."

I responded with humility and kept the small talk going, even though I just wanted to get out. That's the Midwest for you, "So, Angela, I heard you were a lawyer. That's a hard job. How do you like it?" But I missed the beat already and she had just taken a paritcularly jammy bite of roll right after I finished my question. A big drop of jam slipped off the roll and into her cleavage. She saw that and noticed then immediately grabbed a napkin to hide the spill and chewed vigorously to help get to her answer faster. A hand rose up to cover her open mouth.

"Ya." Crunch. Crunch. Swallow. "Yes, that's right. Out of law school a few years ago. Living the dream of being a small town lawyer. I like it a lot." Her cleavage parted and fell back together as she wiped away the drop of sugary spread.

"I met Angela in the gardening section of the big box store up the lane. She was trying to buy all these plastic cartons for her seedlings. And I intercepted her, saying you don't need to waste that money just come borrow my soil packer," said Gerianne, oblivious to the PG-13 moment we were having here as a towel hung loosely around my otherwise dangling and very interested privates. It wasn't even an erection, but just that little suggestion that one could be on the way that scared me. Standing there, I would be defenseless.

"Well, you probably want to get changed," said Angela, as if she were trying to help me out.

"Yeah, still a few more chores. Well nice to meet you. I'll be in the main house all weekend." And I bolted upstairs. Behind me I could hear Gerianne assuring her that she could ask me for any help she might need this weekend.

I left the door to my room to eavesdrop as I stripped off the towel and wet shirt. I could hear Gerianne giving Angela a few more instructions, explaining the outhouse situation, the bucket shower, where to find extra towels. Then I heard the scratch of pen on paper as she had Angela sign the no alcohol and drugs policy that was in place at the farm. Angela would be teetotaling just like me. Choosing to stay naked, I shut my door and laid down on the bed for a little rest during the hottest part of the day. When I woke, I dressed, took the condoms out of my pocket to place them onto my bedside table, then came down to see the farmhouse was empty. The two had driven off and Angela was nowhere to be seen though her car was still there. I went and grabbed the ladder then brought it to the orchard.

When I turned the corner past some still unripe pear trees I stumbled into Angela. She was doing yoga on a big plaid picnic blanket. We smiled and said hello. She watched me set up the ladder then take out a tube of sunscreen and apply it to my face, neck, and the back of my hands.

"Oh, that's a good idea, I left mine in the lodge. Could you give me some?"

She walked over and we stood eye to eye. Her hair was still up in a tighter bun and she was already sweating down her neck in the afternoon humidity. She was thin by any standard, but definitely weighed more than me by 25 lbs. With full hips and plentiful breasts. I gave a big white squirt in her hands and she giggled. "You better not tell my husband," and started applying it to her brow and face. I laughed and gave her some more when she reached out her palm. This, I realized soon after the fact, was for her back which she couldn't quite reach.

"Do you need help?"

She looked at me and smiled again. "Ok now you really can't tell my husband. He's the jealous type." Then she smeared the white lotion onto my own hand and turned around. I rubbed it on her upper back and the lower back where the crop top and leggings didn't cover.

She spun around with a "Thanks," then looked up at the trees before asking "When will the plums be ready?"

"Tomorrow, I think."

"Oh, I can't wait." She told me she was going for a run and before she sped off, I asked her to come to the main house for dinner.

"Oh, you don't have to. I brought ramen." But I insisted, and she said yes.

When she got back from her run, she entered the farmhouse through the side door. I was cooking up a storm and she surprised me.

"Hey, I ran by the gas station on the way back. Want some wine?"

"Did not expect you to be a lawyer who breaks a contract."

"Well, you have to have fun on the weekend." She looked sweaty, in a hot way, with dark patches soaking deep into her bra. After placing the bottle on the counter she pulled out a cheap gas station corkscrew and with a little struggle we had two glasses of wine poured. After a toast to the plum trees we took long gulps. It was going to be twenty more minutes, I told her, so she took her glass to the bathroom and I heard the shower start to run. Fresh steam crept under the bathroom door until the water stopped. Angela soon emerged and though I couldn't see her from the kitchen, when I looked out the window I saw her walking down the lawn wrapped in a single wide towel and flip flops toward her lodge. For a second I thought about the binoculars, but stifled the thought and went back to cooking. Can't be a creep.

Angela soon returned in a thin sleeveless blouse and cargo shorts. She poured another glass of wine and helped me set the table. At dinner we were talkative, she started off with plenty of compliments on the meal I made: roasted cauliflower with a vegan tofu dressing along with leeks and beans. Her husband never cooks for her, I learned. If she was home late after a day at court they would only ever get take out. As I asked her about work I learned she had moved to St. Croix Falls right after graduating law school in Madison. Contracts and divorce were her specialty. She really loved what she did.

"Must be a lot of fighting over farms," I wondered.

"Yeah, crazy Boomer husbands and wives trying to kill each other for corn subsidies. It's juicy stuff, fighting over land their great-grandparents stole from Native Americans." As the conversation went on it was clear she was pretty political and that was pretty hot. Not a lot of progressives out in this part of Wisconsin.

We talked about farming and I asked plenty of questions about life in St. Croix Falls. Her husband, it seems, had scooped her up the last semester of law school. Super tall and super Republican, she never really expected opposites might attract like they had. He wanted to get into farming and purchased one hundred acres on her credit and her parents had paid for their wedding. The two got to work that same summer. She ran the vegetable garden between law cases and he started buying equipment for corn with big government loans.

"Yeah, I thought I was too cool for marriage. But the pressure out here is tough. Everyone does it."

"I know exactly what you mean. I was almost engaged to another doctor this past year in Detroit, an anesthesiologist who really tried rushing me up the escalator. She was baby crazy. Wanted to start trying before we even found a wedding venue." It was all to quick, and Angela agreed, sounding not at all surprised that I had broken up with her.

"We do all this schooling and we just don't get that much experience dating," she lamented. "I barely had time to date while getting into law school. Then suddenly everyone gets married right before graduation. I watched it happen to all my friends that I didn't even realize it was happening to me. Once you're engaged, everything goes on autopilot. The wedding planners run the show." There was a long pause. I filled it with another sip of wine. Then Angela asked: "So you're single now?"

The wine was getting to me now. "Yeah, taking a job in Minneapolis in a few months. Just vacationing stag for now until I move into my new apartment. Though I might hit up the bars later this weekend."

"Not much luck there, Romeo. You'll either find community college drop outs who've never heard of birth control or some of my horny 60 year old clients. Everyone in the middle is taking care of their kids."

"Well, I have condoms," I joked. "and I would love to meet an older women."

"You say that, but my clients would suck you dry. They sound like vampires out here. And when they come back from Florida they are crawling with syphilis."

"Isn't there some sort of attorney-client privilege you're not supposed to break?" I quipped.

"Oh, like you never joke about funny things at work?" Angela smiled a long smile. I told her about my time in urology and how they grade erections one through ten. A ten is so hard it hurts while a one is flop city. There are little dildo models as examples in the office. I told her how the old men insist on getting sixes and sevens and how their wives joke with the doctor about not having seen a five in years. She was cackling and soon the plates were empty. The wine bottle had just drops left. It was time to clean up. We bumped hips a few times in the kitchen but other than that the conversation stayed tame. I encouraged her to take plenty of water to her lodge else we were doomed to have a hangover. Especially since she planned on a big hike the next day.

For a brief moment, when I walked her to the back door, I thought we were going to kiss. She had paused and started to lean her neck towards me, ever so subtly. But before I could respond or even consider the ethics of kissing a married woman she seemed to snap out of it and turned back towards the living room.

"Does Gerianne have any binoculars, for my hike?"

"Yeah, right here," I said, to break the erotic tension. I fished them off the mantle and handed them to her. Thanks she said and whirled out the door and onto the lawn sparkling with fireflies.