A Farmer's Son

Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you get some pleasure. Love Mica xx

I live in the depths of the dales. My husband had passed some years ago during the pandemic. We never saw anyone, we were in the middle of nowhere, yet he still caught it and died. His dead body lying in my spare room for two days before they came to collect him. Now he is just in a jar on the mantlepiece. I suppose I am pretty bitter about the whole experience, but what could I do?

My nearest neighbour is many miles away, Post comes occasionally, letters only, only small parcels, there is no such thing as home delivery for any shopping, so the only time I ever get to speak to someone who isn't the Vet or the various other farm visitors like the milk driver is when I go and get my essentials from town which is eleven miles away. Believe me, I don't do that very often.

Milk comes from my cows, I keep back about two pints a day, some I use for butter. Water comes from a spring up the hill along a long blue pipe that my husband installed many years ago. Have a box full of fittings that I use when it gets a leak, I usually just cut the pipe where the leak is and re-join it. I have electricity, that comes on poles over the dales, but disappears for hours on end during bad storms, sometimes I must milk using a generator when the main power is out.

I get a delivery of diesel occasionally when the tank is low enough to pay the cost for remote delivery. It is a gamble, how low can I let it go so that the tank is almost empty when they come. You never get a date when they will come, and it can be as much as ten days after the order goes in.

My only income is from the milk, which is hardly anything, a few pounds a day on average, and interest from the insurance after Paul died and a small widows pension. I kill a cow or a sheep occasionally, butcher them myself and that keeps me in meat over the year, stored in my old freezers. I have apple and quince trees, plenty of brambles and they all keep me in fruit, but it is seasonal. I grow potatoes, I have about an acre of well tilled soil, it is good for potatoes, and I feed it with manure from the beasts.

There is no telephone, they cut it off when they converted the exchange to digital, apparently, we are too far out. I do have an old mobile phone that we got when Paul was alive, I can use it to order diesel, call the vet etc. I have taught myself to maintain the vehicles, an old land rover, which I use to go to town when I have to, and a Massey Ferguson 465 tractor. It is old, but is very simple, all mechanical, no computers and things like that, so unless something physically broke, I could keep it running. In the barn I had an old welder that Paul had got, and I had taught myself to use it, and on occasions when bits broke, I could weld them back together. Functional, not in any stretch of the imagination, neat.

I barely see a soul, there are weeks when I don't see anyone but the milk driver, and he and I don't usually speak, he just connects up to the tank, collects the milk, and is gone.

It was a balmy day, temperature in the high teens, fluffy clouds in the sky, the cows lowed, and the sheep bleated. I grabbed my crook and went for a walk around my property. I have a favourite place to stop and rest, it is just on the sun side of a spinney down off the edge of one of our tracks. The grass here only grows to about four inches tall, the soil is nicely drained and is always a pleasure to sit on. I rested my crook on the fence, slipped off my wellingtons and took my jacket off and hung it inside out on a post. I pulled my shirt out of my jeans, unbuttoned it and added it to the post. Next my bra, although I don't know why I wear a bra, I am only a B cup, seems pointless somehow, but a bra does remind me I am a woman. I undid my belt and then my jeans and pulled them and my panties down, stepping out of them and adding them to the post.

Naked I sat and then lay back looking at the sky, feeling the grass on my back and between my legs. A finger traced around my left nipple, I felt the hardening and smiled. My other hand traced around my navel and down through the neat forest of my hair. I used to shave, but these days, with only me, there was little point. I just keep it short. Being blond it wasn't hugely apparent anyway.

In the forest I find my hidden jewel, the little button of pleasure at the top of my valley. I widen my knees, allowing the soft breeze to waft over me, feeling the kiss of the wind at my entrance. Gently I circle my button, my breath holding as the pleasure waves dance. I slide my finger down, the valley between my lips open and are slick as if I had a valley stream. My lips fold around my finger, encouraging my journey to the core of my essence.

My finger circle and my legs widen, naturally opening and inviting me to enter my entrance, I dally and gently touch my opening, the muscles relaxing, encouraging me inside, I need no encouragement. Two fingers descend my depth, tickling my hymen scar, bumping my ripples and ridges, each a tickle of pleasure.

My fingers are as deep as they could go, my palm flattening my lips, spreading my valley, my slickness increasing, everything becoming slippery. My fingers slowly move back, curling within me, enlarging, widening, ready.

I leave my warm chasm and slide along my wet valley and come back to my button, a gentle throb inviting attention. I rest my finger on my button then slowly I press, then release, my body cries out, I stroke, I touch, my pulse grows, my temperature rises, and my throbbing intensifies.

I know I am close, the grass tickles between my thighs, but I don't notice, my button commands my attention, throbbing, pulsing, demanding release. I touch it. Electricity flows through my body, an eruption of pleasures shoots everywhere and then pangs of pain as my overloaded nerves react. I rise, my back arching as my muscles contract and my mouth screams as my orgasm releases.

Spent, I lay on the grass, once more aware of the grass as it absorbs the juices that flowed from my body in my arousal. I sit up and listen to the nature around me and then slowly I dress and walk back to my house.

I had been home from my walk for a couple of hours and had just finished milking when I heard a car pull up. This is such a rare occurrence; I had to stop and think what the noise was that I could hear. I opened my door and looked out.

"Jack," I cried, what a lovely surprise.

"Hello mum. Can I come in?"

"Of course baby."

I hadn't seen Jack for months, he popped over for my birthday with a gift of chocolates and welding rods. But that was ages ago. I went into the kitchen and waited for him to follow, he wasn't long and had a bag with him. Interesting.

I put the kettle on, this deserved a warm drink and then turned to face him. His face looked 'set', not quite grim but certainly not full of warmth and happiness that I usually see.

"Mum, look, the thing is, can I come and stay for a while?"

"Of course you can baby, what's up, is Sue okay?"

"We have split up mum."

"Oh baby, that is sad." I didn't ask for details, he would tell me what he thought I needed to know in his own time. He just looked lost.

"It needed to happen mum. Anyway, I have just bought a few clothes with me, in case it was awkward, I need to go back and get the rest of my stuff it that is okay though."

"Of course it is my darling. You can have your old room, the bed isn't made up, but the sheets and quilt are in the ottoman at the foot of the bed. I will go and get some meat out of the freezer, I tend to eat meal by meal, so I just need to think a little in advance now."

"Thanks mum. I will call at a supermarket and buy some easy food, like pasta, it just needs bringing to the boil and perhaps rice. I don't know, but stuff that is easy and has a good shelf life."

I am pretty much used to just potatoes, boiled, mashed, chipped, and so pasta will be an interesting change.

"Okay baby. I was about to do my tea, let me do you some tea, it will be lamb chop and boiled potatoes that you can mash with some gravy, if that's okay." I decided he could have my tea for tonight and I would just have some bread and butter. I wasn't that hungry anyway.

I boiled some potatoes, put the chops in the oven in a small tray, and then cut and buttered some bread for me. I saved some of the potato water and rinsed the drippings from the meat pan and whisked them with some flour to make a gravy, I added a little browning, and served him his tea.

"Where's your mum, was this your tea?"

"Oh baby I am not hungry and I had already decided I would leave it until tomorrow, so yes it was my tea for tomorrow, I'll just have some bread and butter so that I can keep you company."

"Still making your own bread, I see," he said.

"Yes baby, and my own butter."

"Cheese too?"

"No baby, too fussy."

"Okay mum, this is delicious, thank you."

He ate and then I cleared away and washed up. We sat in the sitting room on my old sofa, a glass of ginger beer each.

"It was just getting worse mum," Jack said. "Neither of us really doing anything wrong, but we just picked faults all the time. In the end it was easier to leave than to stay. Luckily the house is rented, so, Sue can take it on her own, or just give it up. I just want my clothes and things."

"Oh baby, perhaps you have done the right thing, moving away for a while, it might allow you to regroup, perhaps get back with Sue."

"There will be no getting back mum, the affection and tolerance are gone."

"Oh baby. You will find it a bit hard here, we don't have internet, well as far as I know we don't, I have no way of using it if we have. We eat what we grow and that is about it baby, but you can stay as long as you need and as long as you can put up with your fussy mum."

"Mum, it'll be fine. I'll just go wash up."

"Water is cold baby, hot water on Sundays when I light the wood burner."

"I know mum, I will be fine."

He went upstairs and I heard him making his bed and then washing in the bathroom. He would be naked, he needed his space, I left him to it. Hot water was something I used to enjoy, now I need it rarely. I have a wood burner that Paul installed some years ago, but chopping and drying and cutting to size the wood needed for the wood burner is quite a chore, and as I move on through life, I chose the chores, and so, I heat the water on Sundays and can then bathe in warmth. The rest of the week, it is a cold flannel wash by the sink. A kettle of boiling water is enough for cleaning dishes. The logs are also needed for the log burner on those cold winter days, I didn't need to deplete the stock with unnecessary uses.

Jack would cope, he is a big boy now. He came back down after about thirty minutes just wrapped in a towel. He sat next to me on the sofa, he had a clean smell to him, and I could see he was physically more relaxed. It was as if he had just let out a big sigh.

I lay against him, my head on his shoulder, my hand resting on his leg. The most intimate I had been with anyone since Paul, oh my, that was so many years ago, too many years ago. We didn't say anything, I was just glad that he was here, I was surprised how much I enjoyed some company, and I guess he was just happy not to be in a confrontational situation.

After I while, the light was going and the shadows began to fill the corners of the room.

"Bed time," I said, "up at dawn for the cows."

"Okay mum, yes."

I went up first and he followed, little point in walking around and locking up, just no point, we were so remote. In my bedroom I stripped off my clothes and headed to the bathroom to use the toilet, wash and do my teeth. I walked back to my room, the sounds of the house different now that there was an extra someone.

I lay on my bed listening to the house settle down for the night and dozed off, perhaps not fully asleep, but not fully awake. After a while I heard something, not sure what, it was on the edge of awareness, just a noise. I got up and opened my bedroom door. Jack was stood there, details hard to see in the darkness.

I held my arms out to him and he walked to me and we embraced, my arms around him, my breasts pressing against his naked chest, his down of hair tickling, and his penis hard against my abdomen. I took his hand and led him to my bed, we sat and then lay, his arms around me.

"Mum," he said.

"Hush baby," I said, ensuring his silence with a kiss. His mouth opened, receptive, taking my tongue, offering his own, a hand on my breast, finger and thumb rolling my nipple, squeezing, teasing, his penis twitched. I reached down and held it, pushing the skin down his shaft and then releasing it, allowing it to flow back and cover up his end.

I pushed a finger into the folds of skin and ran it around the hole at the end of his penis, feeling the wetness of his arousal, moving it around, lubricating, his skin now moving easier. Jack began to move above me, ready for the next act.

"Not yet baby," I whispered and moved down, my mouth now at his waist, and then at his crotch. I opened my mouth a little and surrounded his penis, pursing my lips I used them to push his foreskin down, and sucked his cock into my mouth, my tongue rubbing around his rim.

There was an appreciative buck from Jack and a murmur of approval, and I began to take him deeper. I lowered onto him, his penis sliding on my tongue, passing my tonsils and into my throat. I was out of practice, my gag reflex needed more control, and I remembered how difficult it was to breathe with a penis in your throat.

I bobbed up and down, breathing when he was in my mouth, holding and tightening when he was in my throat. I held his testicles in my hand, rolling his testes inside his sac, gently applying pressure as I used my mouth to shag my son. My eyes now accustomed to the darkness of a moonless dales night, could see his hands clutching at the sheet on my bed, his eyes the only beacons of white in the room.

I eased him from my throat and moved away, I did not want to bring matters to an early conclusion. He pushed me onto my back and I felt a mouth around my left nipple, suckling almost, chewing softly, and then the mouth left and my breast felt cold, abandoned. I felt his breath above my sex, gently blowing. His tongue dabbed at my button, my body reacting, coming alive at his touch, a touch not of my making. My vagina pulsed, I could almost feel my entrance opening up to be ready, my valley slick with readiness, my clitoris almost pumping.

I felt him slip off my button and slide down my valley, the roughness of his tongue sloughing off my smooth wet lips as he made his way to my entrance, running around my opening, his tongue pressing slightly inside me and then going beyond. My perineum, unused to such touches, awoke and sang to me, my whole crotch singing together as one, as a choir.

I wasn't sure if I could stop the approaching tsunami before the end game, but I was squeezing the mattress, pressing my heels down, holding my breath, and still the pressures increased, and the choir sang louder. His mouth surrounded my opening and I felt my insides expand, he was blowing, filling me, expanding me.

He moved back and as he lay on my side two fingers gently made their way inside, a small scratch at my scar and then gently easing in and out, me feeling every move, every stroke that they made.

He moved and hovered over me and his hardness nudged at my opening and slowly his penis made its way inside, part of him back where he started this journey of life. His skin pulled and held back, his rim pushing in, widening me, readying me for him, and I was ready, and I embraced the moment, my hands around his back, my fingernails digging in, and as he reached my depth my legs wrapped around his bottom, not allowing him to leave.

He began to move out and back in, almost leaving but not. My vagina relaxed and then clamped as he moved, I used my muscles to squeeze as hard as I could.

"Oh God mum," he gasped, "so good."

"Hush baby, no troubles here, just shag your mum. No worries here at all."

He began to pick up his tempo, he was moving faster and as deep as he could. I could no longer feel his foreskin as it moved, his speed was too great for me, my vagina hummed and my mons felt tender from his pounding, It would be red in the daylight, there was gasping and I realised it was me, my gasps adding to the slap of his love making, the unmistakable sounds of copulation.

He pushed hard and held, I knew what this meant and I squeezed him as hard as I could and I felt it. As I felt his release my orgasm erupted waves of intense pleasure shooting to every end of me, followed by tangs of pain as my nerves reacted. I must have really hurt him as my nails dug deep into his back, but he never moaned or complained, he just pressed deep inside me, his ejaculation flooding my womb with his seeds.

He gasped and relaxed.

"Oh mum."

"Yes baby."

"That felt so good, I needed that, I didn't know."

"A mother always knows her son's pain and how to mend it baby."

He slipped out of me and rolled to my side.

"Now Jack, cuddle me and go to sleep, I have the cows to milk in a few hours.