The Meadowlar's Song

Story edit by Romantesist

*****

Across the wide flat land, Lars recognized his pickup coming down the road trailing a plume of dust. It meant that one of his twin 18-year-old daughters was on her way to the field. The truck was a couple of miles away, so he finished the circuit, and headed the tractor to the gate in the fence. Jane arrived about the same time as he did and parked waiting for him to come over.

After climbing off the 4010, he used his ball cap to knock the dirt off himself before opening the passenger door. "Hey good lookin'" he said as he climbed in, "What'cha bring me?"

"Sandwiches," Jane replied, handing him a bag from a cardboard box containing his lunch.

"Hope you brought me sump'un sweet too!" he grinned in a sly way.

"I did," she answered, "a piece of pie."

"Umm, I was hopin' for that exact thing." Lars said, beginning to eat his ham sandwiches and occasionally taking swigs of tea from a mason jar. He looked out the windshield at the expanse of ground he had been working. He thought he probably was less than a third of the way finished planting the sorghum.

While he ate, Jane sat quietly watching a meadowlark perched on the top strand of a barbed wire fence.

Hungrily, Lars gobbled down the sandwiches and then began crunching on some celery sticks. He washed them down with the last bit of iced tea. He sighed, fishing two Winstons from a pack in the pocket of his chambray work shirt, and handed one to her. "Let's have a smoke," he said, taking his zippo out of his pants pocket.

Jane accepted the cigarette and leaned towards him for a light. He then turned the flame to his and took a long drag.

"Reach under the seat and see if you can find my bottle of whiskey," he said while expelling the smoke.

Jane rested her cigarette in the dashboard ashtray and bent down behind the steering wheel to feel around with her hand. Grasping the bottle's neck, she pulled it from beneath the seat.

Lars took the bourbon from her, unscrewed the cap and tilted it back to take a swallow, watching Jane as he did. She drew on her cigarette and turned to exhale out the open window. Sunlight caught her face and Lars could see the freckles across the bridge of her nose. She had combed her hair so a ponytail lay along the left side of her face and hung down the front of her blouse. The light reflecting off the blonde strands made them appear pale as straw.

"I've been thinking about you this morning," Lars said, giving her a sideways look. Her bosom was swelling snugly against a blouse that had fit well the summer before.

"Oh?" Jane said, in a disinterested tone.

"Yes, I was hoping you'd be the one who came down to bring me my lunch."

"Why was that?" she asked flatly.

He uttered a rough laugh, "Sitting on that tractor seat for hours vibrates my balls...makes my dick hard."

Jane knew where this was going. She opened her lips slightly and inhaled the smoke back up through her nose. It was a habit of her father's that she had unconsciously copied. Breathing out, she said acidly, "What doesn't?"

Jane stubbed out the cigarette and left it with the other butts in the tray. She peered over the steering wheel her eyes in a blank, unfocused stare.

Ignoring the sarcasm, her father said, "There's something about you...a quality that's kinda hard to describe...but, you've got it."

Jane glanced out the window at the meadowlark still sitting on the wire. "What's wrong with Joan?" she asked.

When Lars didn't say anything, she looked back at him. Offering her the bottle he said, "Want a snort?" Jane shook her head.

He took another swig, then answered, "Nothing's wrong with her looks...hell, she's your twin after all. No...she's cute enough. Too passive maybe. Doesn't have your fire."

Jane studied the chipped polish on her fingernails, waiting to change the subject. "Aren't you going to eat that pie?" she asked.

"Why don't you take off that shirt instead? I'd like to see those pretty tits of yours."

She turned to look at him. Momentarily a flash of anger crossed her face. In response, one corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk as he tapped ashes out the window.

What Jane resented most was that they both knew she would do exactly as he wanted. That was the way it had always been. For almost as long as she could remember, he had controlled her and her sister. They had always been afraid of him, afraid of his volatile temper, and afraid of the strap he sometimes used on them.

Lars had taught them that they weren't to say what went on out at the farm—that they must never tell. Jane and Joan had to pretend that their father was good and kind. They sat at their school desks, looking at the other girls in their class, wondering if their fathers did "things" to them too.

In trying to cope, the sisters created a façade to hide their shame and angst. They learned to lie in both their words and actions. They went to church, wore their nice dresses and prayed that God would still love them, even when they lied and did naughty things.

They fooled most people. Still, some suspected that things were not right. Despite their efforts to keep their dark secret, the twins still felt the taint of rumors. Whispers reached them that "ol' Lars was breaking in his daughters for marriage."

Jane developed a cool and aloof persona, using her biting wit to shield the fragility she felt inside. It was harder for Joan to act other than the way she felt. If she let down her guard, the haunted sadness showed in her eyes. Some of it was from the loss of her mother—the other was the burden of guilt.

Jane called it their "paradox life." As if, in their world, having a sociopath for a father would make him caring and loving. As far as she could tell, the only thing he loved was having his ego stoked and using the little bits of flesh that made them women.

Now Jane pulled at the lapels of her western blouse. One at a time, the snaps popped open and then Jane shrugged off her shirt and lay it on the pickup seat. Underneath, she was wearing a little beige bralette that was nearly transparent. It showed the blush of her nipples as they pushed out tautly against the thin cloth. The bra didn't provide any support, although at her age, Jane really did not need it.

With no intent to be provocative, she arched her back and reached behind to undo the catch. As her chest rose, her ribs stood out above her navel and lean stomach. Knowing he'd be mad if she tried to cover herself, Jane stretched one arm across the back of the seat, and rested the other on the windowsill.

Lars shook his head watching her breasts as they rose and fell with her breathing. He looked longingly at her erect nipples and the areolas puffed out and swollen-looking. He was constantly pestering his daughters to let him see and feel their breasts and always rubbing, pinching and squeezing them at every opportunity.

"Jane, glorious Jane. My, my, aren't you fine!" he said.

Her heart throbbing, she stared back at him. Although they had played out this scene countless times before, she still felt like a baby cottontail caught in the claws of a hawk.

"Scooch on over so we can cuddle up a bit," he said. Jane slid across the vinyl bench seat close to him so he could put his arm over her shoulders. He turned his face around and bending down slightly, began kissing her and plumping her breast. The stubble of his beard rubbed painfully on her soft skin.

Jane tasted the vile combination of whiskey, tobacco and mustard in his mouth. Willing herself not to retch, she kissed him back. His scarred hands on her breasts were hard and rough as a cob. Even when washed, the grime remained under his nails and was etched in the cracks and whorls of his fingers.

Lars soon broke away from her mouth to begin sucking, biting and teasing the nipples making them hard, even more distended. Jane lay her head back against the rear window of the cab and closed her eyes.

Whenever he touched her, she kept her body still, trying to resist the effects of her arousal. However, she could not stop her body's reaction to him twiddling her nipples. It always sent a shock right down into her womb. Lars knew this and often kept it up bringing her to multiple orgasms. This time before he brought her to climax, she felt his hand scrape down to her waist and his fingers curl under the top of her jeans. He tugged on the metal button, making it come open.

Jane was afraid he would catch her pubic hairs in the zipper and pulled away, saying, "Let me help." He released her and she reached down and pulled off her cowboy boots and socks. She unzipped her jeans and pulled them and her panties down removing them both at the same time.

When she was completely nude, he clamped her body close once again and put his tongue deeply in her sweet mouth. At the same time, Lars repeatedly ran his coarse thumb across a pliant nipple. Compressing it to one side, he then let it rigidly spring back sore and erect. He pulled back from her lips and, holding her ponytail so her head wouldn't move, offered the middle finger of his right hand to her mouth. "Suck on this honey," he said.

She put her lips around it tasting dirt and tractor grease. Obediently, she sucked on it until it was wet with her saliva. Lars drew it from her mouth and, slipping through her dark blonde pubic hair, began to probe between her legs.

"What the hell is this!" he swore, staring down at her crotch. He could see a white tampon string dangling below the nest of soft hair.

"I'm having my period," Jane answered.

"No you're not," he shot back, irritated. "Don't you think I know when you two are on the rag?" he said, his face reddening. "Even if you were, do you think that would stop me?"

"Get that damn thing out of you," he ordered. Grasping the string, Jane removed the unstained tampon and dropped it on the floorboard. Angrily, he pinned Jane against the seat kissing her while mercilessly swirling his finger around inside her pussy.

Despite her revulsion, Jane's body was reacting to her father's crude foreplay. With the tampon removed, wetness seeped as Lars stroked her inner labia and teased the bud of her clitoris. His crushing mouth muffled her moans and cries.

With his erection aching and straining against his pants, Lars opened the pickup door and pulled her out into the sun. Gripping her wrist, he led her barefoot through the plowed ground to the back of the truck. Jane tried to disassociate herself from what was happening but it was no use. He pushed her, bending her down at the waist, so she could lay her forearms on the open tailgate.

Lars dropped his pants and underwear and pushed her legs wider apart so he could rape her from behind. He rubbed his cock against the glistening and swollen labia wetting his glans with her fluids. He pressed his cock against the small opening of her vagina and then began stretching it wider as he pushed inside her. Lars gripped her slim hips, thrusting deep and hard into the tight sheath. Groaning, he slammed himself against her ass time and time again.

Even though his weight was grinding Jane's elbows into the metal tailgate, she was oblivious to the pain. All she could think of was his huge dick savagely punishing her. The pummeling went on and on and she cried out. Jane closed her eyes and clenched her fists trying to endure his pounding cock.

She felt herself blacking out as sparks and points of light flashed inside her skull. At last, from far away she heard him gasp, "Aaahhhh!" Jane reawakened as jets of hot cum shot deep in her womb. She fought to resist the sensation, but still shuddered when he came.

The sun beat down upon them in the open field. Panting from their exertions, father and daughter rested with his cock still embedded deep inside her. Finally, Lars pulled out and she felt a gush of cum seeping down her legs.

He stood up, "Ho-lee...Jane, you've got the tightest, sweetest cunt I've ever had!"

Lars watched as Jane slowly stood up and gingerly made her way to the pickup's cab, crawled inside, and lay on the seat.

"I guess lunch is over," he said.

Lars turned, and with his back to the wind, urinated, the stream carving a dark muddy hole in the soft-churned soil. When he finished, he tucked his still wet cock back in his jockey shorts and pulled up his pants. He walked to the tractor and climbed back up and onto the seat.

Jane lay with her knees drawn up, her arm across her face. Close by, the diesel engine was started and idled for a minute or two. Then came the sound of gears engaging and the noise of the tractor pulling the drill, moving away, growing fainter as he drove into the distance.

Alone with her thoughts, she heard the high clear notes of the meadowlark warbling, "tee-yah, tee-yah...chupp-teedle-yah."

-End-