The party had been nice, mum really tried to make it as enjoyable as possible for everyone. After all, how often does your daughter turn eighteen?
And the college bash, that also went well, rather to script but that's how these things sometimes go.
So what now? 'A' levels done, just waiting for the results. Should be okay, I was able to study the subjects I wanted and they should be ideal for getting me into agricultural college.
However those are just the academic matters, things that seem so important to parents and teachers but nothing to do with what really matters: life, love, happiness and stuff like that.
Fortunately I loved farming and farm work, and as mum and dad owned their own farm I had plenty to occupy me until I knew what the future looked like.
So time to feed the pigs, milk the cows, bale the hay, shepherd the sheep and sow the seed. Well at least clean out the cowsheds, the pig pens and throw some seed to the chickens. Modern farming was quite mechanised and automated and although I knew how to do most things on a farm I only stepped in to deputise for mum and dad when I had to, like illness and vacations.
Wish I could say I was a pretty little thing in a cute frock and it was only a matter of time before Mr Right came and whisked me away to a new life in his castle. Reality is that I'm rather well built instead of being slim, the polite term seems to be pleasantly plump. I have a lovely smile and can get on with most people, so not unattractive, just unconventional.
Then there's the other thing, that I'll have to discuss with my parents sooner or later. Just haven't got round to it yet. No, that's not true. Neither is it true I haven't had the courage to tell them. It's just that I don't want to hurt them.
Not at all into respecting the previous generation for the sake of it, I believe people need to earn respect. But mum and dad have always been good to me, never pushed me to do anything I don't want, and treated me like an adult even when I was a kid.
Anyways time for the denim shorts, support bra (I'm very well endowed in the chest area), chequered blouse and trainers. Sounds rather corny but I'm a country gal born and bred and if there is one thing you need on a farm it's practicality.
Spring seems to have come early this year and the warmth of the weather brings out the warmth in me. Sun soaks into my skin, feel my face glow. Okay it's rather round and chubby just like the rest of me but plump girls can glow as well.
So chickens first. Cleaning the coops, the feeding area and generally tidying up their habitat. One of the first things to learn about a farm is keeping the place tidy. Not in a fastidious 'spick and span' way but maintaining the environment for the animals in a way that enables them to live and thrive as healthily as possible.
Getting rather hot now so glad I brought the large bottle of water, just stick in it one of the storage tanks and that keeps it cool. So chickens all neat and tidy and off to the pig pens now. Same again, mucking out the pens, raking out the old hay and bedding and replacing it with new, topping up feed and water.
Sweating quite freely, blouse comes off and I drag out the old hay to the tractor ready for composting. Mrs Foster walks by en route to have her daily chat with mum: 'Hi Carol, pigs keeping you busy?' The Fosters run the farm next door and are good family friends, also terrifically nice people, Mrs Foster especially, as she happens to be one of my fantasy figures, mature experienced woman an' all that. She also happens to look remarkably like Pam Ayres.
'They sure are Mrs Foster, a healthy pig produces no shortage of work for a farmgirl and these pigs are as healthy as they come.' I see her glance at my boobs momentarily but make sure she doesn't know I saw her, but push my chest out just that little bit and a teensie weensie flush of excitement flows through me.
'Well I'm off to have a cuppa with your mum so I'll see you later Carol.' We say 'bye' and I watch her walk away as her very huggable bottom sways majestically from side to side.
One good morning's work done and it's time for lunch. Blouse back on, don't want to embarrass my parents. Quick wash and look in the mirror and I'm glowing like a ripe peach in the sun. 'Carol, you sure are gonna make some girl happy one day' I think to myself, rather unmodestly. Well at least some girl who likes 'em curvy and rounded.
'Just in time dear, it's very hot so I thought I'd do salad today. Dig in everyone'. Mum always says that and it's just the three of us. But it's sort of reassuring and cozy and I'm definitely hungry after a morning's work. There's no shortage of food on a farm and a full table is something I've known since childhood. The salad almost grows out of the bowl, eggs mayonnaise looks like small boobs with yellow nipples floating in a sea of mayo and the sliced tomatos arranged together remind me of...well... Shit, I need to get laid soon or I'm gonna explode.
Everyone has had their fill and the next hour spent digesting and chatting. Time to excuse myself and clean the cowsheds: 'Already done sweetie, why don't you relax this afternoon, remember the Applesfield Farmer's Dance is tonight' says dad. How could I forget? 'So why don't you take the afternoon off, you need to look your best if you're to catch that special guy.' I grin (grimmace) politely but appreciate the thought. Mum also refuses help with the washing up.
So it's off through the meadows I stroll, toward the woods. Just love the trees and the grass and the flowers, feel at one with nature here, feel at home like I belong in the country. Rabbits scamper under cover as I pass, birds tweet in the branches and the sun heats everything to medium rare. Looking for my spot, my secret place only I and the grasshoppers know. A small round clearing among the ash and the sweet chestnut, the oak and the silver birch.
The soft moss is the perfect bed and I relax easily. Earphones in and I listen to Pink for a while but she's too excited for my current mood. Switch to K D Lang and hear her sing of love's yearning. Mind starts wandering, love and romance, kisses and cuddles, sex and...well...more sex.
Memories flow through thoughts like water through pebbles in a stream. Meandering round obstacles, trickling over rocks, splashing spray haphazardly without care for who or what gets wet. Finding myself attracted to other girls at school and hoping no one would see me looking, kissing Jenni Mack in the locker room when everyone else had gone, holding hands with Maria on holiday in Spain. Possibilities come and gone. What might have been, what could be, if only...
Too much, emotions too strong, feel the stirring within. I look at myself through the valley between my boobs, the slightly soft tummy and the full thighs between which I am already wet. Am I a freak? Getting turned on by my own body? Who cares. Undo button on shorts, zip glides down. Hand slides inside panties, legs move apart. Another fetish of mine, I keep myself smooth just to feel the soft smoothness of my lips which are so sensitive they quiver at the touch of my fingers.
After a few minutes of stroking my lips they are as swollen as possible and time for me to go deeper. I let out an audible little moan as my finger slides inside. I don't go any further at first, just let it play around slowly. Then a little deeper and I touch my clit, which explodes and so do I. It's a sensation a whole order of magnitude greater and my body melts in preparation. Another touch, the explosion expands, press harder and an earthquake starts.
Nothing more yet, just a constant light pressure on my clit while my other hand unbuttons my blouse and pushes up under my bra. Another shudder as my fingers find my nipple and the combination of nipple and clit produces another moan. I know they're going to get louder, thank goodness there's no one else around.
I usually also need some visual frame of reference when I masturbate and Mrs Foster pops into my mind's eye. What if she didn't just look at my boobs one day? What if she undid her blouse, removed her bra and I could see what I'd fantasised about for years. And then maybe she would lift up her skirt or let it fall to the ground and I could see her wide hips and gorgeous bottom, barely constrained by the tight white panties...
...that was it, the wave started. My fingers worked faster and my breathing increased to match. My boobs moved up and down and in and out and my fingers were soaking with the juice I was producing. The sensation was building and I knew all I had to do now was catch the top of the wave. Sometimes I miss it but this time I got it just right and my high pitched moan floated around the sunlit leafy glade as my climax filled me and carried me away to a place in some distant land where Mrs Foster's hands replaced mine and with one final shriek the wave subsided and I landed softly on my bed of moss as the birds stopped singing and the insects ceased their twitter and the trees themselves applauded me...well that's how it seemed anyways...
I lay still for a few minutes to return to reality. Another one of my fantasies involves someone finding me as I...but that's a different story again...
So a slow stroll back to the ranch and I love the feeling of being soaking wet down there. Even after a climax I still experience the sensuality I feel within my body and the thoughts it creates. A natural high that never quite subsides, always waiting there to be rekindled. 'Hi Mum' I greet her and take the offered glass of ice cold water.
'Nice walk dear?' she asks and I talk for a few minutes about the meadows and what flowers are out. I don't know if she can sense what I've been doing but she's too polite to mention it and anyway mum is really down to earth and she would probably be disappointed if I wasn't enjoying myself at every opportunity.
So it's time for a shower, epilating on legs, armpits and bikini area (long since past the pain threshold but it does take some persevering). Then hair combing for at least an hour, mine is blonde / light brown and halfway down my back. I tie it back partially and hold it with a clasp, suitable for most occasions.
Tea time is the main meal of the day in the farmhouse and the three of us have good appetites. Conversation usually revolves around the business on the farm, guesses about the weather and comments on the state of the herds and the crops - we farm just about everything so can adapt to changing economic and seasonal trends.
'Looking forward to the party tonight sweetie?' asks mum.