Maggie's Farm - Sex Stories

Maggie's Farm

... her how she could have gone to Woodstock, she seemed bewildered and disconcerted by my question. “Maybe I’m older than you think, but let’s not go there.” I was baffled by her statement, but let it pass when she suddenly grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go outside and look at the stars.” When we went out onto the porch, she took another joint out of her shirt pocket and we got high again. We had our shoes off and walked barefooted out onto the cool grass, and even though there was a full moon, the sky was brilliant with millions of stars. Neither of us spoke as we gazed into the universe, and I remembered a line from a poem of mine and recited, “ Something in me glistens at the hugeness of our insignificance.” She smiled and nodded. “Yes, we are, aren’t we—huge in our insignificance.” She looked at me then back up at the stars and sighed deeply. We were quiet and I watched her looking up at the stars, and though it was dark, she seemed radiant in the pale light of the moon with a faint silver glow on her hair. She smiled when she turned and gazed into my eyes before she said, “I’m glad you’re here.” “ I am, too,” I responded, loving the quiet and stillness and feeling amazed at how my sudden taking off earlier in the day had brought me to this place. She took my hand and pulled me into her arms and we kissed. I loved how she felt in my arms as we embraced. After several minutes she looked up at me. “I don’t know what will happen with us, but we have this night and that’s ...

... what matters.” “ Yes, one day at a time,” I said, pausing, thinking about her words, and then remembered an old song and, corny as it sounds, I sang in my not very good voice, the part of the song that described how we just have tonight and we may never meet again and how tomorrow may never come, for all we know.” “ I know that song, ' For All We Know.' I love that song.” She smiled. “It was in an World War Two movie from the forties.” While standing there, I looked over at the barn glowing in the moonlight and could see the dark outline of the garden and the fruit trees, the fence around the pasture and the small farm stand with the umbrella by the side of the road. We stood quietly, holding hands, and I loved the way it felt being there with her and wondered what was happening with us. Was I falling in love? Where would this end? Was this a dream? And again I thought, things like this don’t happen in real life and especially not to me. When we went back to the house, she opened a drawer in the cupboard and pulled out a deck of cards. “These are tarot cards. I want to do a reading for you,” she said and sat down at the kitchen table. “ So you know how to read tarot cards?” “ Of course, I’m a witch.” “ You’re a witch. Is that so?” I was completely surprised at how directly and simply she announced that. “ Don’t worry. I’m a good witch not an evil one,” she said, patting the cards. I looked at her and thought about the Salem Witch Trials and the toil and boil witches in Macbeth, ...