J. S. Bradley
The hog wives
Chapter 1
Dean Palmer got out of his dusty pickup truck, crossed the gravel to his back porch, opened the door, then stepped inside. It was at least ten degrees cooler in the enclosed porch them the outside, but he stood there and stripped off his clothes and shoes, then he went into the kitchen, leaving his dusty, chaff-covered garments in a heap by the washing machine.
Phyllis Palmer looked up from the sink where she was rinsing salad vegetables. She stared at the gray patches and smears on her husband's hairy body, then she shook her head from side to side.
"One of these days, Dean, you're going to walk in here naked like that and find yourself face-to-face with the Avon lady. Did you finish?"
"We finished Mac's, but we have that corner piece of our own to do tomorrow. That should just about finish it for the year. And what's the matter with my walking in here naked? Would you rather I'd dump my dirty threshing clothes on the bathroom floor?"
Phyllis was staring so hard at Dean's big cock that she almost cut her finger with the paring knife. She was thinking about how long it had been since she had played with her favorite toy; this was the fourth day in a row that the co-op had threshed from 5AM to 6PM, and Dean had gone to bed right after dinner each night and fallen asleep immediately.
"When you come in that back road, you never know whose car may be parked in front of the house," she told him, licking her lips as he shifted his stance, making his cock slap against his thighs. "We'd be the scandal of the county if you came prancing in here like that and ran into Mary Margaret Siebenthaler." Her voice was reprimanding, but mischief danced in her brown eyes.
"Fuck that old gossip!" Dean blurted out, walking across the kitchen on his way to the bathroom. "I'm one citizen she wouldn't dare do any talking about."
Phyllis turned from the sink to cross-examine him on his cryptic comment, but he had disappeared. She finished her trimming and rinsing, chopped the vegetables into the bowl, then leaned against the counter, thinking about how good it would feel to have Dean's prick slide into her cunt and give her a good plowing.
Her thighs squeezed together, forcing the lips of her pussy outward with the pressure. She could feel the dampness gather as she imagined the fullness of his cock inside her, expanding her hot tunnel and tugging at the cloak of her clit with each stroke.
The daydream carried her away, and when she heard the sound of the shower cease in the bathroom, she realized that she was panting and that her thighs were wet with the oozing juices of her excited cunt. She took off her apron and tossed it onto a chair, then started for the bathroom, unfastening her smock-like house-dress as she walked.
Dean's ass was toward her as she approached him. He was bent over, toweling his ankles and feet, his hairy thighs forming parentheses around the wrinkled bag of his scrotum and his balls swinging with the movement of his drying efforts.
Phyllis quietly knelt behind him on the rug. Her hand reached up into his crotch, and her nails scratched gently at the damp skin of his testicles. He straightened up swiftly, emitting a grunt as he moved. He turned around to face her. Phyllis grabbed the swinging pendulum of his cock and began to lick the length of its shaft, giving special attention to the purplish sheen of the knobby head.
"Good God, Phyl!" he groaned. "I have chores to do!" But his hands slipped down to cradle her head, his fingers running through the sleek darkness of her black hair and caressing her behind the ears.
She fastened onto the swollen head of his cock with her lips and gave it a few fast sucks. The stiffened shaft pulsed and the glans swelled even larger. She tasted a prematurely released drop of come as she let the meaty knob slip from her lips.
"No you don't," she told him. "I did the milking when you hadn't shown up by five, and then I fed all the stock. All you're going to do is eat dinner and go to bed… after you take care of your inside chore!"
She got up and took him by the hand, leading him into the bedroom. She bent herself over the edge of the big bed, shedding her frock as she moved. Dean saw that she wore nothing under it.
Her lovely ass formed a pair of sleek, rounded buns, golden brown from the sun and exciting to behold. She raised the quivering buns upward, and he saw the glossy hair of her twat cursing wetly in her crotch. The swollen lips of her cunt pouted thickly in the midst of the black forest, and jewels of moisture twinkled at him, telling him of her heated readiness.
He gave a hoarse cry and grabbed the rigid shaft of his prick as he stepped up behind her. The feel of her steamy flesh made him groan as he slid the head of his cock through the lacy curls and wedged it into the sucking mouth of her cunt.
"Yes! Oh, yes!" she cried. "Fuck it, Daddy! It's all hot and squiggly inside!"
He curled his hands around her hips and pulled her to him as he drove into her. The hot slickness of her cunt gulped at his prick; he could feel the velvet wrinkles of her sheath swallowing him as he plunged firmly into her depths.
"Oh, Jesus!" he groaned. The walls of her cunt were literally clasping at him, and he knew that she was worked up to a heat that she had seldom reached without considerable foreplay. He realized that he had neglected her for several days, and she must have grown extra passionate with the waiting.
"I've been… so hungry for… your cock!" she panted. "Oh, Dean… fuck me hard!"
He leaned over her and grabbed her right tit with his right hand. His left hand crept into her crotch and played in the soup of her oozing lubricant. He smeared it around, teasing the outer lips of her cunt with his fingertips, then toying with the hard bud of her clit until she began to moan loudly and buck beneath him.
The length of his strokes and the lateral movement of his ass combined to make her wild, and his teasing of her clit was adding to her excitement until she gasped and whimpered pitifully.
"Short fucks, Dean!" she pleaded. "Stay deep, Daddy… I'm almost… almost… OH-H-H-H!"
Her cunt tightened around him, and Dean drove into her all the way, sinking the fat head of his cock into the end of her tunnel. He groaned as his come gushed hotly out of him, hitting her ways in spasmodic spurts that seemed to drive her even wilder.
He had grabbed her hips again, and now he held her tightly as he spent his load inside her. She jerked and twisted with the violence of her climax.
She retained his cock as long as she could, reaching back of her to hold his withering cock as she whimpered out her finale. His balls were bathed in their juices; his knees felt as if they would start to tremble at any second.
Her hands slipped away from him, and he pulled out of her slowly. He cupped his hands under his cock, then went back to the bathroom to wash off. When he came back, she was still lying there in the same awkward position.
"I needed that!" she said. Her voice was almost a purr. Dean sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her sleek ass.
"I guess I did, too," he admitted. "After twelve hours in the field, I wasn't exactly overflowing with energy, but… say, you must be pretty tired, too! Doing all the chores and everything, then getting supper…"
"Not much work to supper tonight," she confessed. "I know how Grace feeds the threshing crews, and I don't want you to eat two heavy meals the same day. You get baked chicken, salad, potatoes, green beans and Jell-O; then off to bed!"
"I see. And is there time-before this 'light' meal-for a bit of liquid relaxation?"
"Sure," she said, getting to her feet slowly. "You make the drinks while I'm cleaning up, and we'll have them in the living room."
She hurried into the bathroom, and Dean went to the kitchen. He got out a bottle of bourbon, splashed it generously over ice cubes in two of their largest glasses, then watered it down a little. He grabbed up a pair of large coasters and took them into the living room with the drinks.