Jeannie Boyd sat on the porch in the early morning and sipped coffee and
looked out over the farm.
My farm, she thought. All mine.
She felt a mixture of emotions: pride, a sense of accomplishment and, most of
all, a feeling of contentment and satisfaction. She felt, she knew, that she had
made the right choice in coming to the farm and settling down.
It had not been easy.
Six months before, she had been living in the city, pursuing a successful
career. Then, fate had stepped in, as it often does. She received the news that
her uncle had passed away and left her his farm.
Why her uncle would bequeath her the farm was a question Jeannie couldn't
answer with certainty. She hadn't been particularly close to her uncle, and she
hadn't lived on a farm for years--not since she had left home after high school.
She supposed it had something to do with the fact that she was her uncle's only
living relative.
When Jeannie had arrived at the farm, she had been overwhelmed. It was a
medium-sized spread; actually, it was a combination farm and ranch, and Jeannie
had thought: No way; no way am I going to be able to manage this. But she had
found that it was manageable--thanks to Stumpy. He was a little old wizened
bantam rooster of a man, and he had been her uncle's manager and overseer for
decades. And he more than knew his stuff. The farm-ranch was a going concern;
crops as well as livestock were produced for market, and a number of workers
were employed. Stumpy managed and oversaw it all with efficiency, and Jeannie
quickly understood that she should leave things as they were. Stumpy would be
the real manager of the farm-ranch; she would only be the owner. That didn't
mean that she could sit on her tush though; far from it. Jeannie had quickly
found that, day in and day out, there was a lot of work for her to do.
And she had done it. She had become a real working owner of a farm- ranch.
And as the months went by, she found herself growing more and more attached and
connected to the farm; so much so in fact that she wondered how she had ever
been happy and fulfilled working in the city.
Now, after six months, she could sit on the porch and feel real pride and
accomplishment and, more importantly, contentment. She knew where she belonged:
right there, on the farm-ranch....
A dark movement near the barn caught her attention. She looked and saw
Stumpy's dog Buck coming around from the rear of the barn. She watched as he
sauntered along. Buck was a big black dog, of uncertain breed, short-haired and
stump-tailed. He was husky, bigger than a Doberman; and as Jeannie watched him,
a fizzy feeling rippled from the pit of her tummy to her chest and a warm knot
formed in her throat. She recalled seeing Buck the day before, or rather
watching him as he topped another dog. She had watched as Buck pumped his penis,
jamming it hard and fast into the bitch. She recalled that his penis was
pink-red and smooth, slick and wet.
She let out a heavy breath and gulped and wiped her dry lips with her tongue.
A sigh escaped her as she stood and walked into the house.
She walked to the bedroom, aware for the first time of how warm she felt and
how a fizzy tingling was rippling up and down her tummy.
Without thinking of why she did it, she undressed and got on the bed.
Jeannie was a young woman, not yet twenty-five. She was one of those women
who are attractive but who give the impression that they are unconcerned with
their looks. She usually wore jeans and an untucked shirt. Her honey-colored
hair was tousled; her blue-green eyes matched her peachy tanned skin--devoid of
make-up.
She lay naked on the bed, absently stroking her tummy. Her body tingled. She
slowly moved her hands up to her breasts and slid them over the firm, full
mounds. A warm delicious feeling radiated from her breasts. She began stroking,
running the palms of her hands over them. She let out a sigh of pleasure and
stroked harder, rubbing and kneading her warm throbbing tits, running her thumbs
over the rubbery erect nipples. She was breathing hard now, almost gasping and
panting. An image suddenly flashed in her mind. The image of Buck on the back of
the dog, his big black husky body on top of the bitch, pumping his penis in her,
jabbing his smooth slick wet pink-red prick in her.
Jeannie slid a hand down and raised her legs and drew them back. With one
hand she squeezed a breast and with the other she rubbed between her legs. She
gasped and panted as hot wet shafts stabbed and shot through her body.
Again the image of Buck came to her. She slid a finger into her pussy and
rubbed her clit up and down as she pictured the big dog's dick pumping in and
out of the bitch.
She lurched upward and cried out in passion as a mini-climax swirled and
rippled through her cunt....
She opened her eyes and sighed and felt a letdown. The masturbation had felt
good, but it was so momentary, so fleeting, and it was a substitute. It wasn't
the real thing. Jeannie sighed again as she realized how long it had been since
she'd been fucked. Six months. Since she had left the city and come to the farm.
In those six months, she had stayed busy, and there was also the simple fact
that she was the owner of the farm-ranch; she didn't come into contact with any
males very often.
She slowly got off the bed and without dressing walked through the house. She
stood naked before the screendoor, looking out onto the porch.
She saw Buck. He was now lying on the porch. She saw that the dog was licking
itself, running its tongue over its penis.
He's got a good-sized dick, she thought.
The dog suddenly looked up, rose to its feet and walked to the screendoor. It
stood, looking at Jeannie, then it raised its front legs and landed them on the
screen. She looked down and saw the dog's pink-red prick, sticking up, firm and
slick and smooth.
She slowly opened the screendoor, and the dog entered.
It pranced around her, sniffing at her legs and rump, then it halted in front
of her and sniffed between her thighs. It nuzzled her pubic hair and then moved
its muzzle down.
Jeannie breathed out huskily with the sensation of the dog's nose and muzzle
on her pussy. She opened her legs and the dog dove in. It began licking her cunt,
lapping it with its big thick wet tongue.
Umm, ah, she breathed out heavily. The dog's tongue was so thick
and wet and its breath so hot on her pussy.
She suddenly realized that it could be even better if she didn't stand up.