Maggie's Farm - Sex Stories

Maggie's Farm

... what you sow’ is true.” She looked up at me and shook her head. “I learned that the hard way.” “ You did? What do you mean, the hard way?” She took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “Well, a little over ten years ago, a bunch of friends, my husband Richard and I decided to get out of the system and grow our own food and live together communally. You know, share everything. We were idealistic and thought we could make it work, but after getting off to a gang-busters start, it didn’t take long to see the romantic notion of living off the land turn into hard work. My dad sold us this farm, mainly because he was glad I was back in the area and not hitchhiking around the world with Richard…whom he never liked, by the way.” I listened, nodding, slicing the onions, my eyes tearing, fascinated by what she was saying and how she was the only one left on the farm. “ See, I grew up on a farm and knew it was hard work, but they all grew up in the city and most of them came from well-to do families and got whatever they needed with little effort. I’ve never had it that way, and I think that’s why I’m still here and they aren’t.” “ Yes, but you said you and your husband are squabbling. He wants to sell the farm and you don’t.” “ Right, and there’s no way I’ll sell this farm and leave it. I’m determined to do what I have to do to stay here. I’ll never leave. Never!” While she spoke, I thought about my first impression of Maggie when I stopped to get some fruit and was captivated by how ...

... sexy she looked in her tight cutoffs and skimpy shirt, how seductive she seemed when she asked if I wanted something wet and juicy, then got me stoned in the barn before we fucked like wild animals. I also remembered her saying how hard it was not having a man in the house, how her needs were not being met and wondered if she was luring me into her life. But now I was seeing a determined, serious woman who was not only sexy, but smart and was intrigued by the duality, and how she was revealing another side of herself. I had never met anyone like her and found myself attracted to her complexity and wondered if this sudden taking off on an adventure was leading me to some place dangerous, or someplace where I might find a buried treasure, or perhaps both. I didn’t know. During our delicious dinner, we continued talking, learning about each other, sharing stories, listening, nodding, asking questions. She told me again how she grew up on the farm but couldn’t wait to leave and go to college, travel, live in the city, experience other cultures. She related how she and Richard had traveled to Europe, staying in hostels, camping, working on farms in the south of France, where she learned the method of farming she uses, how they went to Woodstock and rejected the whole bourgeois scene. I thought she must be older than she looked because Woodstock was over forty years ago. I was in my late twenties when that event happened, and she seemed too young to have gone to it, but when I asked ...