Countryphile

Jennifer had always wanted to live out in the countryside, away from the hustle and bustle of city life. She often dreamed of sitting on the veranda of a homestead, looking down into the valleys on late afternoons when the cool breeze would refresh the land.

She had discussed this with her husband on many occasions, only to be told "You're dreaming, girl. We can't make money out there, in the sticks. And what would we do for jobs?"

Jennifer wasn't easily deterred though, and soon enough she found an advert in a national newspaper advertising a job vacancy for a live-on-site mechanic on a sheep farm out in the countryside.

"Look, David, isn't this property near the area where you go on your annual hunting trip? This could be our chance to live our dream!"

"Hmm," her husband replied, not so excited. David was a fitter, not a qualified mechanic. Though he did have a good understanding of engines and cars in general.

Jennifer was determined. "I don't care what you say; I'm sending in your CV."

David's CV was current; he had been through three jobs in the last six months. He wasn't what you would call an energetic employee.

A couple of weeks went by and they heard nothing, not even a rejection letter. After breakfast the next morning, Jennifer decided to take another look at the job advertisement clipping that she had cut from the newspaper, to ensure she had sent all the required documentation for the job application. There was an email address at the bottom, so with nothing to lose, she sent an email asking if there were any problems, and could they at least have an interview to express their passion for the position.

Jennifer, being a housewife, waited at home, anxious, for most of the day, checking each hour for a response to her email. As the morning turned into afternoon, still there was no reply. It was getting late. David would be home soon, so she decided to start cooking dinner.

Jennifer was going to cook David's favourite, hoping to put him in a better mood. With his current job not going so well, it hadn't helped things much in the bedroom department, on top of many other problems that seemed to be draining his enthusiasm between the sheets. Jennifer was finding herself masturbating more and more often since David had lost interest in sex. She knew it wasn't her fault. At the age of thirty, she had an amazing body, and kept herself fit by being active around the house for most of the day.

As she prepared dinner, she cursed the damn company for not responding to her email. She and David needed this more than ever. They needed a change of surroundings, a change of lifestyle. Their marriage would fizzle out and die if they carried on like this, here in the big city.

Sure enough, on the next check, the email was there. Jennifer was too scared to open it at first, not knowing how she would cope with a flat rejection.

When she finally plucked up the courage, it read: Please call the below number tomorrow at 10.am sharp.

They wanted a telephone conference with David. Jennifer was breathless with excitement. Could David really pull this off?

Two weeks later...

The married couple arrived at the farmhouse early on a fine September morning.

"Can you believe it, David?" Jennifer beamed. "We did it! We actually did it! Look how beautiful it is. Smell the fresh air..."

David wasn't quite as enthusiastic as Jennifer. Looking around he noticed a lot of run down machinery. And the smell of animal shit hung heavy in the air. The place was a complete dive. He couldn't believe he'd let his wife talk him into this. He'd be getting the sack from here as soon as possible.

"Hello, there," a voice boomed in a Norfolk accent, startling the couple momentarily. "Glad you made it safe and sound. It's a dangerous climb up here, you know, especially in the wet."

It was the property supervisor Harold, wearing huge brown Wellington boots and thick overalls. The owners lived in Sydney, and only visited once a month to check over the accounts and things, so Harold ran the show.

Harold was your typical "farmer" type with a weather-beaten complexion and a bulbous pockmarked nose. His eyebrows were so bushy that they connected across his brow in a fuzzy strip and his unkempt bushy beard was made up of scraggly grey hair. Jennifer guessed him to be in his mid-fifties. Though he was short, with stooped shoulders, his potbelly made him seem stocker than he was.

Jennifer had spoken to him a few times on the phone, and he was just how she had envisioned him. She found herself warming to him immediately.

"Glad to be here, Harold," Jennifer smiled. "Where's our house so we can get unpacked. It's looking a bit overcast, don't you think?"

"Your place is down that south track, there, about forty yards away," said Harold, pointing. "Come in here and have a cuppa first. I've just put the kettle on so it should be ready now. Come on in here and have a chat with old Harold."

The married couple followed Harold into his quaint farmhouse and sat down for a cuppa.

"Do you live alone?" David asked.

Harold went on to tell them that he lived alone now, since his wife left him some time ago.

"No loss!" Harold exclaimed. "She was an 'orrible bitch anyway; and as ugly as sin. Good bloody riddance." Harold sat down at the table with the married couple and handed them their tea before continuing. "It's gonna be nice having a pretty young girl round here to brighten up the place," he said, leering intently at Jennifer, his eyes roaming over her chest. "We don't get many young women round these parts, but I'm sure we could find a thing or two for you to do, if you fancy earning yourself a few quid."

"I'm up for anything, Harold. I'm just so happy to be here, I could kiss you," Jennifer beamed. "I'm not afraid to muck in and get my hands dirty; I'm not scared of a bit of hard work."

Harold went silent, the friendliness fading from his face, becoming a serious stare. His eyes turned to the floor, locking on to Jennifer's flip-flop clad feet, then travelled up slowly, drinking in the exposed flesh of her smooth legs. "What about a bit of hard cock?" he murmured under his breath.

Jennifer and David glanced at each other then back to Harold, "Sorry, we didn't quite catch that."

Harold shook his head to regain his composure. "It's going to be pretty isolated up here for the next few months," he went on, the friendliness returning to his face, his eyes back staring at their faces. "Shearing has just finished for the time being. It's during the shearing season when this place is booming, people everywhere. I'm glad it's over for another year. It's during this off-season when I get very lonely, though. Still, it won't be such a lonely spell now you two are here to keep me company."

David smiled. "So my job will be keeping these old machines well oiled and maintained, I take it?"

"Yes, that's right. As well as a few other things, but I'll show you the ropes as we go along. We wouldn't want to be talking about the running of this old place in Jennifer's presence; we'll end up boring the tits off the poor girl."

The couple had to stifle a giggle at old Harold's brazenness and Jennifer's face flushed red like a beetroot.

David quipped, "Oh, don't worry about Jennifer; her tits could do with all the attention they can get at the moment, whether it be boring or otherwise.

The sinister look returned to Harold's face, his eyes again roving over Jennifer's large bust beneath her summer dress. "Mmmmm, tits," he whispered.

Jennifer became aware of his eyes burning into her bosom and felt her nipples harden in response. Harold's eyes widened as the tiny nubs protruded noticeably under the material of her dress.

David became aware of the tension building between his wife and the old man. Jumping to his feet and gulping down his tea, he said, "Okay, we best be off then. We really need to get unpacked and settled in."

Harold snapped back to reality. "Oh, okay, I'll see you out. Do you have a beer, David?"

"Sure do," David replied.

"Come over by yourself when you've finished unpacking, and I'll have a cold beer or two waiting for ya. We'll have a few jars and talk business."

The couple said their goodbyes and strolled slowly back to the car, ready to get unpacked and begin their new life.

"Penny for your thoughts, David," Jennifer asked, walking beside him and linking her arm through his.

"He seems great. And he likes a beer, which is a bonus. " David thought for a moment. "But I couldn't help noticing the way he was ogling you. Your chest and feet seemed to take up a lot of his attention."

"Oh, don't be silly. He's just a lonely old man. He's probably not seen a pair of tits in the flesh for donkey's years. He's just desperate. And my feet do look awfully sexy in my new flip-flops, don't you think? You can't blame him for having a good stare. He's harmless, David. Besides, if keeping Harold happy is the key to us staying here, then he can ogle me to his heart's content."

A concerned expression creased David's forehead.

A month later...

They soon settled in to their new environment, and all seemed to be going well for the married couple. David enjoyed his work, though he was never seen without a beer in hand. He and Harold had become great friends, with David spending the occasional evening over at Harold's house discussing "work" as they called it.

It was awfully strange, but Jennifer would notice a real change in her husband's libido whenever he returned home from Harold's after a night on the booze. He would stagger in around midnight, drunk and sexually aroused, rip off her clothes and fuck her frenziedly, right there on the spot. Last time he had screwed her over the kitchen table and had even slipped a finger into her arsehole - he'd never done that before. It was a nice change from when they lived in the city, where the stresses of life seemed to drain her husband's sex drive. Whatever it was that Harold and David spoke about during their boozy evenings at Harold's place, it was certainly doing the trick.

But Jennifer couldn't help but be a little jealous that her husband was spending so much time with Harold. But since she was so overjoyed to be finally living the idyllic lifestyle that she had always dreamed of, she was content for the time being. Everything was just perfect. She was basking in a dream come true and had to keep pinching herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

Harold had visited Jennifer several times, mostly when David was out of the house. All indications looked good, except Harold's behaviour around her was a slight cause for concern. He would be gentlemanly and kind one minute, then rude and crass the next. He was an odd person, to say the least. And he most certainly had an inclination for Jennifer's tits and toes; he would stare at them with an almost hypnotic look, with ferocious intensity in his eyes, seemingly oblivious to his inappropriate behaviour. She was a married woman for heaven's sake!

Although she didn't yet realise it, deep down Jennifer loved the attention Harold gave her. She would always make sure she was barefoot when Harold came calling; it gave her a sexual thrill to know he was lusting over that part of her body. She would also wear tight tank tops around Harold, and would feel her nipples stiffen like two rubber bullets as soon as his eyes locked on to her chest. But Jennifer never realised she was flaunting herself; it was all done subconsciously, without her really being aware of the sexual tension building in the room.

Jennifer had showered and was ready for an early night. The owners were visiting the farm the following day and staying for the weekend. The married couple were told by Harold to keep to sober habits and get around looking busy, as the owners were stuck up and didn't appreciate the county lifestyle. He had also dropped a bombshell, telling the couple that the owners were unaware that he had employed David and had given the couple free accommodation as part of the employment deal. It was actually Harold's job to keep the machinery maintained, but he felt too old to do it all by himself, and needed help. He wasn't sure how the owners would react to the news.

Jennifer felt sick at the thought of being thrown out of the farmhouse and back into hectic and noisy city life. She would go to any lengths to stay firmly put, here on the farm, just where God intended her.

*

Harold spent most part of the weekend with the owners and the two days flew by without incident. Monday came and the owners left, leaving Jennifer in nervous anticipation wondering whether the owners planned to let her and her husband stay.

It was early evening and David had persuaded Jennifer to have a glass of wine to calm her nerves. Before she knew it, one glass had turned into two, and then turned into nearly a whole bottle. Jennifer was slightly drunk by the time Harold phoned the house and asked David to go into town and pick up some parts for the tractor.

The town was about two hours' drive each way. Jennifer thought it a rather strange request, having been for the monthly trip to the tractor shop just last week, so she decided to stay for a bit of quiet time and to finish her bottle of wine. After all, she could now celebrate; since David was being asked to run an errand for Harold, Jennifer assumed that this meant they were going to be staying on the farm - for the time being at least.

"Be careful on the road, David," she said, smiling and happy. "I'll have dinner ready on your return."

Shortly after David left, Harold called and asked Jennifer to come down to his house, to discuss the situation with the owners. Apparently, the owners had a few issues that he needed to discuss with her personally, alone.

Jennifer was panicking now, close to tears, assuming the worse, realising now that she would go to any lengths to keep her life at the farm. What had they done wrong? They had only been there a month. How could they go back to friends and family as failures, having been thrown out after just a month? How could they go home at all? They'd sold everything they owned to move here.

Arriving at Harold's place a short while later, Jennifer sat down anxiously, waiting for Harold to pour her a beer before joining her at the table to discuss certain issues. Jennifer was looking hot and sexy, wearing flip-flops, a figure-hugging tank top and a short skirt, exposing plenty of flesh and flaunting the curves of her luscious young body.

Harold had good news as well as bad. Looking contrite, he began, "Jennifer, after my discussion with the owners regarding my ailing fitness and my ability to work alone, they have agreed to allow me an extra employee to help me with my daily chores."

A surge of relief welled up within her and tears came to her eyes. Without realising what she was doing, Jennifer gulped down her beer, leapt out of her chair and pounced on Harold, flinging her arms around his neck and smothering his hairy face with soft kisses. Harold sprung into action, wrapping his arms around Jennifer's waist and pulling her bottom down onto his lap. They were both still for a moment. Harold was breathing heavily, becoming sexually aroused, taking in Jennifer's intoxicating feminine scent, holding her body perched across his thighs. Jennifer, still slightly drunk and a little startled, sat stock-still, feeing the old man's erection pressing against her firm backside as she nestled firmly in his lap.

Harold's hands began to wander, one up the back of her tank top, the other slipping up her loose skirt and resting on her bare thigh, just inches from her pussy. Jennifer was disgusted that the old man had an erection and had forced her to sit across his lap, right on top of his hard cock. She couldn't believe his audacity, fondling her body, treating her like a little slut. She knew she should protest, but she was momentarily dumbstruck, too shocked to move, immobilised by fear.

With his hands gripping her body hard to hold her still, he put his mouth to her ear, his bushy beard tickling her cheek, and whispered, "I'm sorry to get your hopes up, sweetie, but I'm not sure if you're the right people for the position. And since you're still in your trail period, the owners want me to make a decision - tonight."

"What have we done wrong?" she asked nervously, feeling him wiggle his hips beneath her, stimulating his erection against her firm buttocks.

"It's David," he snapped, squeezing the soft flesh of her upper thigh in his calloused hand. "He's a waste of space, shit at his job. And he's a drunk. And I've got to pick up his slack," complained Harold.

"Oh please," Jennifer snivelled. "I can make him do better, Harold. Please give us a another chance."

"I'm prepared to do you favours, darling, as long as you're prepared to return them in kind," he drawled in her ear.

Jennifer felt her mouth go dry and her face flare up in a bright red blush. Startled and embarrassed, she suddenly knew where this was going, yet still couldn't comprehend it.

"Harold, I can't. I'm not like that. I'm a married women for heaven's sake," she whined, but her emotions contradicted her words, for her growing excitement was evident.

His busy hands were becoming rougher and more insistent by the second, his arousal reaching a feverish level. "I'm not asking for sex, sweetheart. Just to play with those cute little tootsies and see you naked. You know, just some fun and games. It's not too much to ask, is it?"

But his actions betrayed his words, for as soon as he had said that, his hand slipped higher up her naked thigh, before resting between her legs and negotiating its way round the gusset of her cotton panties. She gasped and her body trembled when she felt a sausage finger glide along effortlessly over her wet pussy before penetrating the moist hole at its centre. Slick with her juices, the finger slid deep into her vagina, wiggling once it had sunk in up to the knuckle, sending shivers of arousal through Jennifer's young body.

The humility of it - this filthy old man was almost twice her age, nearly old enough to be her grandpa. It was dirty, unnatural, but her pussy wept and her body hummed with undeniable pleasure, a sexual pleasure she had only ever felt with her husband before now. Her feelings of guilt were easily pushed aside. After all, it was David's fault for being useless that had landed her in this predicament in the first place. But if David ever found out, she knew he'd be heartbroken.

"But what if David catches us?" she breathed, her tone softening, relaxing slightly as the finger moving inside her sloppy-wet hole sent waves of heat through her now docile body. She had subconsciously accepted her fate, wanted it to certain extent if it meant staying on the farm, though it hadn't registered in her mind just yet.

"He will be sent into town on errands, just like today," Harold growled lustily, his free hand making its way up her top, fondling her unfettered breasts. "Now, take your flip-flops off and put those sexy feet up on the table. I want to be able see them while I'm fondling your wonderful body. I've wanted to do this to you ever since you arrived. Come on, do as you're told, sweetie."

Sweating profusely and quivering all over, she kicked off her flip-flops and perched her dainty feet up on the table, complying with his demand.

"Wiggle those toes," he panted, his clammy hand mauling her tits roughly while the other grazed a ragged nail harshly over her clit and squelched in and out of her juicy hole. Then his hips bucked wildly back and forth beneath her bum, thrusting his groin, bumping and grinding his erection against her buttocks, working himself up into a sexual frenzy.

His long, dirty fingernails dug into her tit flesh and scratched the sensitive walls of her inner pussy as he mauled her private parts with his hands. It began to hurt; she couldn't take it any longer. "Oh, please be more gentle," she pleaded.