Yes, I am a farm girl; have been all my eighteen years. My life was pretty normal except for two things: First my mother, someone who hated the country life, up and left me and my father when I was a little over nine; Second was the morning my father caught me in the hay mow, my pants down and my fingers bringing me to climax. As I gasped loudly, I blurted out: "Oh, God, Don't stop Daddy, I love you." The next thing I knew was amazement to actually hear my father's voice in my fantasy. "I love you too, Nails." ("Nails" is his nickname for me. My name is Penny, but he says I am like an eighteen-penny nail, a new number for each year of my life). In an instant I knew I had been caught.
"Daddy," I shrieked, turning around to see him leaning against the wide door entering the stall where we kept a day's worth of straw or hay. "I'm sorry. Please don't be mad." I stumbled around on my knees to turn and face him, my pants down to my knees
"Chores done?" He asked in his gruff manner, his eyes taking me in from knees to head, and then his eyes digging deep into mine.
I nodded and told him they were, now unable to look up from the straw-covered floor. It seemed like hours before I looked up- hours with my heart beating in my throat while I waited for him to come unglued. The deep sound of the Combine told me that he wasn't in front of me any more, and that he was headed out to the corn field to get in as much corn as he could before it started to rain, which looked to start any minute.
The rest of the morning I went from checking the moisture content of the grains being dried to starting dinner for us. Several times I had to sit down and cry my eyes out, knowing full well that I disappointed my father. To me, having been born a female was the biggest problem between my father and I, but he had gotten to rely on me so much since mom left that I just knew I had broken his heart. I knew he had wanted me to go to college after High School but, for my own needs, I just wanted nothing more to stay and help him run this three-hundred and sixty acre farm.
It started to rain hard as we sat down to the dinner table. Even though Dad didn't say a word about anything, I found myself staring at the table, waiting for him to "bitch" me out. Finally, as he kept eating like he always did, and I poked at my food, he asked me if I wasn't hungry.
"What," I shouted, angry that he was dragging this out. "Will you please yell at me and tell me how bad I am?"
He looked up from his plate, an unfamiliar gleam in his eyes. "What? Did you break something again, Nails?"
"You know what!" I growled, slamming my fork to the tablecloth. "About you catching me out in the barn this morning."
"Oh, that? What about it?"
"Tell me, would it have been better if it was your son you caught out they doing himself?"
"Frankly, Nails, I would have been upset to hear my son telling me not to stop and that he loved me. Guess it sounded better coming from a female."
"You mean you're not mad? You put me through all this for nothing?"
"Mad about what? Damn, you're growing up. If I yell at you for that you going to yell at me?"
It took a minute for it to sink in what he had just said. I looked at him, my mouth hanging open as he went back to finishing his food. "You mean. . . No. You don't mean you do it, do you?"
Looking up at me, he smiled his crooked grin. "Well, looks like one of those, 'like father like daughter' things, doesn't it?"
I was in shock. Pure, total shock. He had caught me with my fingers playing over my clit, then had gotten a real good view on my pussy when I had hobbled around to face him, and now he was telling me he whacked-off too.
"Looks like it's going to rain the rest of the day," he said, sliding his chair back and lighting a cigarette. "Tell ya what, why don't you go slip on a dress and we'll go to town. Want to?"
"For what?" I asked, bewildered by the fact that this gruff old man never went to town unless he had to.
"Get ya some clothes. I think you need to dress a bit more like the young lady you are and less like the son you keep trying to be."
"Are you serious?" I asked getting up from the table and heading to my room before he could change his mind.
"Yes, make sure you wear good nylons," he laughed after me. "And no panties."
"What?" I gasped at the thought.
Dad got his way, as usual, and soon we were headed to town in steadily increasing downpour. He told me to listen to the radio if I wanted to, something he had allowed only a few times since I could remember. He was acting very differently then I had anticipated.
"You okay?" I asked, looking over at him as the radio played out the rock music just above hearing level.
"Yeah, sure," he replied, giving me a weak smile. "You know, I did a lot of thinking today about this morning. I guess I owe you a lot of making up."
"For what?"
"For being my daughter. It does mean a lot to me."
"You mean you're not upset because I was, Ah, playing with myself?" I questioned, looking at the window at the passing trees, their leaves all but gone.
