A Virgin Farmgirl Taes to Breeding

Mary had just finished tenth grade when the fire happened and she lost both her parents. It was devastating to lose them – and almost as horrifying to think of what she would have to do to live without them. The only option she seemed to have would be moving across the state to live in the big city with her elderly great-aunt, Aunt Goody, who had always shown so much disdain for Mary's hard-working, country parents. The few times she had come to visit, she had barely concealed her view of them as white trash.

For this reason, Mary was exceptionally grateful when her father's best friend, Jack, had offered to take her in. Mary could come live on Jack's farm, only a few miles away. Jack and his wife would take care of Mary and help her until she could finish high school and get a start in college. They would try to give back some of the family Mary had lost, and Mary's aunt – after much hesitation – finally consented.

It was supposed to be a new start, the friendly couple opening their doors and helping Mary to heal from her grief. Unfortunately, only more grief came. Jack's wife died within the year from a stroke, and Jack was pitched into a mourning as deep and consuming as Mary's. It had been a childless marriage, and so Jack was now just as alone in the world as poor Mary.

As the years went by, the two lived with their grief daily, acting out the day's routines with grim determination: Mary rose early, made coffee for Jack and oatmeal for herself, got ready each morning on her own and drove her dad's old truck to high school. Jack would drink his coffee in stern silence while Mary ate her oatmeal, then he would set out on his tasks at the farm. In the evenings, Mary did as many chores as she could, finished her homework and Jack watched the news on TV before going to bed early. Every night. On the weekends, Mary might go to a movie with friends, but always came back before dark so she didn't make Jack worried.

She was grateful to him for taking her in, and she felt somehow responsible for the loss of his wife. She tried to be as little of a burden as possible. Initially she had tried to help him around the farm, like her father had taught her, but Jack was very traditional and urged her to look after the chores in the house. He was grateful when she cooked, did the laundry and ironing, cleaned up the dust, and kept things cozy. "This house needs a woman's touch," he would say wistfully, in the rare times when he spoke much to Mary.

At the time of Mary's graduation from high school, the mood at the farm lifted slightly. Mary was excited about college, although sad to leave the last vestiges of her family by leaving Jack and life at the farm. She had enjoyed working on the school yearbook and was planning to go to the state university and possibly study journalism. She thought she might like being a reporter. She thought that maybe by reporting on agriculture or issues in the rural areas, she could still feel close to the land.

Even with her college acceptance and state scholarship in hand, Mary still felt scared to leave the only hometown she had ever known. More than that, she felt worried about what would happen to Jack without her – a widower, a farmer living in solitude, now he would truly be completely alone. Her heart quailed to think of him eating dinner by himself – dinner he would have to make, so probably a warmed-over TV dinner or can of beans – and then having no one to say good night to him each night. Mary had never told Jack how grateful she was to him, but she knew he was her benefactor. She felt that she owed him something for all of his generosity over the years.

One night that summer, over the usual silent dinner, Mary cleared her throat and flipped her long natural blonde hair over her shoulder. "Jack, I've been thinking, " she started. He looked up at her. His grey eyes were set in a finely lined, deeply tanned, lean face – the face of a man who lived and worked outdoors. He spoke slowly. "Yes, Mary? What's on your mind?" He looked scared of what she might be about to say.

"Well," she paused uncomfortably and looked on the verge of tears. She was just about to turn 19 that fall, and had not quite lost the baby fat in her face. She had large brown eyes, soft cheeks, and very full and pouting lips. Her face was the only babyish thing about her, though. Under Jack's very eyes, she had grown from a tow-headed country tomboy into a very voluptuous young woman. She attracted plenty of male attention, even if her clothes were ill-fitting and not very fashionable, coming from the cheap department store two towns away. Her breasts had grown fully in only the last part of high school, and all of her tops were now too tight in the chest. Similarly, her hips were somewhat wide for her build. She was no thin city fashion model, but was a healthy size for her height. As a result, her clothes were tight in the hips and rear also. She felt a little embarrassed that she had developed too quickly for her wardrobe, and had tried to do extra chores to earn some money for new clothes before college, but it had not been a good year on the farm and clothes had to take a backseat so they could have food on the table.

"Yes, Mary?" Jack asked again patiently. He was slowly weighing her with his eyes. He knew that when she left for college, he would experience a yawning emptiness. But he was also proud of her, and hoped to help her realize her dreams.

"Jack, I don't feel quite ready for college," she said a little too quickly. "I'm worried about you here, and I think maybe I should just do online courses for the first year until I feel ready to move. I just don't know about going so far away!" Her voice quivered a little.

Jack kept his eye on her. She had edged up close to the table, and her large breasts her straining against her blouse as she choked back a sob. Her beauty was not lost on Jack, who had been with no woman since his wife died. He tried not to look at the beautiful, heaving bosom in front of him.

"This isn't about some boy, is it?" he demanded sternly. "I won't have you throwing your future away over some fool country boy. You're too good, Mary. You'll make a fine wife to some lucky man, but no one within 100 miles of here deserves you."

Mary blushed. Jack rarely paid her any compliments. "No Jack," she said softly. "I had one boyfriend before Mom and Dad died, but that was just puppy love. It meant nothing after I lost them." Her tears started flowing more freely now. "I just feel like you're my only family. I...I just can't lose you too, Jack." She closed her eyes and her words dissolved in sobs.

Jack had never seen Mary this upset. He thought she was like him, stoic, with a stiff upper lip. She had not cried over her parents or when she came to live at the farm. She had always done her duty without asking questions. Jack was moved and upset by her tears.

He got out of his chair and knelt down beside her, wrapping his arm around her. He brushed his hand up and down her upper arm, as if to warm her. "Mary, Mary, there's nothing to cry about," he soothed awkwardly. "Please stop crying or you'll make me cry."

She laughed a wet giggle. His arms were still around her, an unfamiliar feeling. They had never spent this long in physical contact. His face was close to hers, and from his position, he could smell the fragrance of her hair, and could just see down her top, where the full round breasts made a deep line of cleavage against her too-small shirt.

Jack felt himself getting hard as he breathed her in, held her in his arms, and gazed at the unfamiliarity of her womanly endowments. Mary, meanwhile, was intoxicated by the muscular strength she could feel in Jack's grasp of her. The strong hand on her arm was deeply veined and masculine. She could feel his strength, and had never had him grasp her so tightly, so –intimately – before. His face was near to hers, and she could almost feel the scrape of his five o'clock shadow against her forehead. She blinked back her tears and turned her face up to his to thank him for being so strong and caring.

As she did, Jack acted instinctually and lowered his mouth to hers in a kiss. He was so overcome by her youth, beauty and vitality – those big, luscious breasts – that he completely forgot himself. His mouth descended on hers with a passion he had restrained for untold years. His lips met hers and he wetly kissed her, aggressively parting her lips, finding her tongue, and licking deeply into her gorgeous, pouty little mouth.

Mary had hardly kissed a boy, and never like this before. She was so taken by surprise, she couldn't think to resist. She parted her lips with abandon and felt herself swooning as Jack's warm mouth filled her with a wet, delicious feeling like none she had ever experienced. She felt warm all over, and she could feel her nipples starting to poke out against the fabric of her blouse. Her insides seemed to melt and she knew she was wet between her legs as Jack extended the kiss and let his tongue lap against hers with great purpose.

Finally, he withdrew. "Oh Jack," Mary mewed incoherently. She didn't know what to say. Jack pulled back to look at her, and his face darkened. He could not believe what he had just done, and he could not forgive himself for violating Mary in this way. He turned away from her abruptly and left the house. Mary sat with her hands in her lap as she heard his truck start and him driving away. She didn't know where he could possibly be going at this hour, except maybe the one bar in the next town over. Mary felt like all life had gone out of the room when Jack left. She stared at her half-eaten dinner and felt the tears start to flow again from her eyes. Fighting them back, she rose to clean up the kitchen and to make sure everything would be perfect when Jack got home. She hoped he would feel like talking to her then.

***

Jack didn't get home until late. Mary had fallen asleep reluctantly, somehow full of adrenaline and unknown longings after the passionate kiss. She didn't know what she wanted, but she felt like something In her was about to burst. She had drifted off picturing Jack's strong body above hers, but doing – what exactly? She was a virgin and did not fully know how these things worked – at least not with people. She had seen plenty of breeding on the farm, but she knew it would be different between a man and a woman. She just didn't know how.

Jack had indeed gone to the bar and sat stiffly on the stool while a pool game went on and football played on multiple TV screens. The bartender was Maude, a self-proclaimed "redneck with a heart of gold" who could spot a heartsick man from a mile away. "Jack Carter, you look like a man who needs some whiskey. Can I get you anything else?" Jack shook his head from side to side and spilled some of his pained thoughts. "No, Maude, I need – I need to leave here. I don't think it was right that I've kept Mary at the farm this long. It's not good for her. Not safe."

Maude cocked her head quizzically. "Not safe? What do you mean, Jack? She's been safe this long and I hear she got a good offer at State. What's going on down there?" She eyed him shrewdly. "Has someone got their eye on Mary that shouldn't have?" Jack flushed to the roots of his hair, and Maude took in the entire situation. "Oh Jack," she admonished in a low voice. "Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Jack looked up sharply. "What do you mean?" he said carefully, looking her in the eye. Maude lowered her gaze. He went on. "Nothing's happened and nothing's...going to happen. I just need to leave here so Mary can feel good about going to college. She told me tonight that she wants to wait a year because she's...she's worried about ME." His voice broke a little.

Maude nodded, understandingly. "Well, what is the hurry? She's a smart girl and knows herself best. And what will you do without her, Jack?" Now Maude became audacious again. "I think you know we all thought you would marry that girl the day she turned 18, anyone can see that she's head over heels in love with you. She may not know that's what she feels, but it's plain enough to see. And you're not so old yourself, so why not?" Maude stretched her hands out in exasperation. "What are you, Jack, 50? You've got a whole life left ahead of you."

Jack shrank back from Maude's frank speech. "I'll be 51 next month," he spluttered, "and I don't see how you can say such things about poor Mary. I am practically her father, and if she loves me, it's because I'm doing right by her real father's wishes. You can't violate that trust." He looked stern, but inside his heart was racing. Did Mary...love him? He took another shot of whiskey and left Maude with a terse "G'nite" and walked purposefully toward his truck. He drove around the fields for a long time, savoring the summer breeze in the moonlight. His mind was far from made up, but what part of his resolve was left was made incapable by an additional six-pack he picked up at the county's only liquor store.

When Jack stumbled into the darkened house, it was just after 2 a.m. Mary had been asleep for hours, and Jack was elaborately quiet coming into the house, hoping not to wake her. He walked up to her room and gazed through the cracked door at her sleeping form. It was a hot night, and her body was mostly on top of the covers, to catch the breeze from the window and the ceiling fan. Her pink nightie was very feminine and delicate, and he could see her large, unrestrained breasts straining the fabric up top, while at the bottom her twisted legs stretched the dress wide. A pleasing hump met his eye where her pubic hair would be, the fabric taught across her hips. Mary's full lips were parted in a light snore, and her chubby cheeks glowed like alabaster in the moonlight. She was sleeping heavily, and Jack was glad that he hadn't woken her.

Suddenly, she moaned a little and cried out. "Jack," she said. "Jack, please, please, Jack." She was speaking softly and urgently. Jack was riveted. He could not breathe. He listened intently. "Please Jack, just..oh Jack, yes! Yes, Jack!" Mary was moving a little in her sleep, and the words were indistinct and muttered, but they were clearly indicating some kind of momentum. She moaned inarticulately.

Jack, drunk and horny, could not resist coming closer to hear her words. He bent down next to the bed and put his ear near the parted lips, so he could make out what she was saying. As he did so, his eyes were filled with the sight of her body moving slightly in her sleep – the heavy breasts jiggling, her small hump of a tummy rising and falling with breath, and the hips twisting insistently. Jack felt like he could smell her arousal, but was he just drunk? She kept moaning and Jack reached down toward the bottom of her dress.

He gingerly lifted the soft pink fabric and glimpsed the white cotton panties that Mary always wore. They looked damp, and Jack eagerly brushed just the tips of his fingers against where her pussy lips pouted against the white fabric. It was soaked. Jack took a deep breath and felt his mouth start to water. His cock had sprung to life the minute he saw Mary in her bed, but now he felt an animalistic need to pull it out and force it right into Mary's tight little virgin pussy. His breathing was ragged as he brushed the damp fabric again, a little more assertively, and he brought his finger up to his nose. He could smell her deep arousal, the rich scent of a ripe young woman ready for all the joys of womanhood. Jack felt unsure what to do. He needed to leave the room before he woke her, but his hesitation was fatal.

"Oh...oh...Jack? Is that you?" Mary muttered uncertainly. Her eyes weren't fully open, but she sensed a large form looming over her bed. She straightened her legs a little, feeling herself more exposed somehow than normal. She blinked into the darkness. "Jack, I was worried you weren't coming home. I'm so glad you're here." Her voice was soft and full of sleep. She raised her arm a little, as if to reach out her hand to him.

Jack's voice faltered. "Mary, tonight I realized something." He was too drunk to be doing this but maybe that was the only way he would ever be brave enough to do it. "Mary, I realized I love you. I love you too much, Mary. Mary, I want to be with you. I need to tell you this, Mary, so you'll realize it's okay for you to leave, that it's the right thing for you to do." His voice – normally so serious – was shaking and high-pitched as he said these words, and Mary woke more as he said them. Her heart started beating fast.

"What do you mean, Jack?" she felt bewildered and knew only what seemed natural. "Jack, come here. Come to me, Jack. I love you too. Don't worry," she scooted up a little and held out both arms from her position on the pillow. "Please Jack, just come here. Everything's going to be alright, Jack."

He bent down uncertainly and sat next to her on the bed. Bracing himself with one hand, he leaned over to caress her soft white arms, which were chubby and glowing against the pink nightie. "Mary" he whispered. It felt so natural as he stroked her arm to lean in closer and bring his hand gently across her chest, just barely grazing the fabric but clearly feeling the stiff nipple and his hand journeyed on down against the side of her body and pressed against her hip. "Oh, Mary, Mary," Jack whispered. His face was coming closer to hers and she was rising breathlessly to meet his caresses and his words. He leaned fully over and sealed his mouth to hers for the second time that night, this time in an equally insistent, deeply sexual kiss. His tongue played between her lips and tasted all her sweetness. She felt herself melting again.

The kiss broke, but Jack didn't stop kissing her. He moved to the side of her mouth, kissed along her cheek and then back to her lips, teasing her mouth open and plunging deep inside, kissing her so deep that she felt like she would drown. He kissed her eyes and cheeks and brought his stubbly face close to her ear, breathing and kissing the lobes so she felt lost in his breath and his heat.

While he kissed her, his hands were roving across her ripe body. First he grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted the hem of her nightie up. He pulled it up above her hips, roughly kneading her full buttocks as he yanked on the taut cotton fabric. He ran his hands over her hips, feeling where the elastic of the white cotton panties gathered against the small hump of her belly. He touched these with purpose, savoring delicate feel of her body, but not wanting to move too quickly. He kept the panties on. Instead he ran his finger down the front of them, gently outlining between her hot pussy lips, where the fabric had become soaking wet. He slid his finger just inside the seam of her panties and felt the delicious slippery inside of her pussy.

"Oh Jack!" she nearly shouted into his mouth as he kept kissing her. "Are you in love with me, Mary?" he asked urgently as he kissed her ear. "Mary, do you want to be mine?" She was breathing so heavy and her hips were thrusting against his teasing finger as it found the place no man had ever touched before. "Oh Jack, yes," she moaned, "yes, Jack, whatever you want. Oh Jack, Please make me yours. I want to be yours, Jack, I never want to leave you."

His insides burned with pleasure and desire hearing her confession. His cock was rock-hard as he plunged his finger into the slippery slit between her legs. He could feel her soft, full pubic hair – a virgin's natural state – as he eagerly worked his finger into the tight little slippery opening. "You're going to be my wife, Mary. In God's eyes, I will make you my wife tonight. Do you understand me, Mary?" He spoke commandingly and her eyes opened fully to take in his words.