A fantasy from the past rekindles the flames of passion for a lonely farmer’s wife.
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“The Bullman Part 1” A 26 min 8 sec recording.
When I was a teenage girl growing up on the farm, I often had time on my hands to daydream and fantasize. It was a lonely existence sometimes. Whenever a caller came to the house it was a big deal. On our farm, at a certain time of year, the AI man used to come. He would look after artificially inseminating the cows that, for one reason or another had not been bred by the farm bulls.
Dad used to call him “the bullman”. You have no idea the kinds of images that used to conjure in this teenage girls head, minotaurs and extremely well hung men.
I was a shy girl, I used to hide in my room, safe behind the net curtain, watching to see him, to catch a glimpse. It was so thrilling. The fear of him looking up and seeing me. I even took a few photos once with my camera, but they weren’t very clear through a net curtain. I used to fantasize about being left alone with the bullman. I dreamed of going down to the barn to bring him something, and being taken by him.
Nothing ever happened. I was a teenage girl and he was a mature married man. I think him being married was part of the attraction. But maybe it was simply that he was one of the few men that called to our house. I used to think he looked a little bullish himself, somewhat brutish. He had this little tuft of hair on his forehead.
I have no idea how many times I came masturbating while dreaming about him. I used to climax so hard looking at a few hazy blurred photos of him in his navy overalls.
Years drifted by. Fantasies changed. I grew up, and got married. To a farmer. It’s a busy life, time for daydreams and fantasies in short supply. I love my husband Doug very much, he’s a good man but…
Well he’s a farmer, quite frankly he can be very chauvinistic.
Despite trying for a baby since getting married, we never concieved. We never sought medical help, he was very much of the opinion that “if it happens it happens.”
We had a good life. He’s a caring and hardworking man. But sometimes I was left wanting, craving affection.
I desperately wanted children, and we still had time, I was only just thirty one years old. But it irked me that he didn’t much like to talk about it.
As it turned out, in the end, we had plenty of time.
It was breeding season on the farm when fate conspired to change my life. The AI lady was due to call. (Yes, a lady, times had moved on quite a bit, even if Doug hadn’t). He usually wanted to be around when the AI person called, but today he made a last minute decision to offload some cattle at an auction. It was a couple of hours drive away.
Shortly before he left for the auction, I received a call from the agency to tell us our usual AI lady was on sick leave and that a replacement would be sent.
I went about the day doing my usual chores, and my husbands, feeding the livestock, preparing dinner. Cooking, cleaning, washing, oh what fun.
It was almost 10:45 when a knock came to the door. I opened it to a man who looked very familiar. The familiarity took me aback. I couldn’t place who he was though.
“Hello mam, I’m the replacement AI man from the agency” he spoke slowly, his accent local. He was well built and young, mid-twenties I guess. He was handsome in a rugged way. He didn’t look too long out of college, yet he still looked somewhat filled out weather-beaten, very masculine.
“Oh” I said, a little flummoxed, for a moment I was that shy awkward teenage girl again. I was still trying to place him.
“I’m Mary. Mary Waters.” I held my hand out to him.
“Mike Conway, at your service” he responded with a warm smile. His grip was firm and warm, for a brief moment crushing.
He let go of my hand.
“Let me show you where the cattle are, give me a sec, I’ll just grab my coat and boots.” It’s not always glamorous being a farmers wife.
As we walked down the laneway toward the cattle shed, we chit chatted, but my mind was elsewhere. I was still trying to figure out how I knew him.
I felt a growing sensation of anxiety, and unease. The farm is such an isolated location. Here I was, all alone with a young stud and my husband conveniently away for the day. I don’t think I’d ever happened to be in this position before.
After showing him around I left him at the shed to get on with his work.
As I walked back to the house it suddenly occurred to me, the bullman who used to visit my house was Conway too. It slowly dawned on me, the source of my recognition. He was the image of his father, a man I hadn’t seen in about 15 years.
The realization slowly began to sink in, I felt strange, a growing sense of unwellness and a strange arousal.
I returned to the warmth of the house. Immediately I went upstairs. We had a junk room full of stuff that we really didn’t use but didn’t want to throw away. I went in and began rifling through boxes until I found what I was looking for. A graying shoebox that looked the worse for wear. Inside were old photographs.
I started leafing through them, my fingers thumbing through the glossy prints with nimble dexterity. There, near the back of one of the envelopes were the pictures I wanted. Pictures of the bullman.
Even through the net curtain, the resemblance was uncanny. I felt shock. A sudden faintness came over me clouding my thoughts. I walked to the bedroom. I wanted to get into bed and sleep.
I took off my jeans, and climbed under the duvet.
I found the clearest photograph and looked closely. I was drawn in to a bygone world. Old habits came to the fore. I reached down inside my panties and found my slit all wet. I began to think very graphic thoughts. Thoughts of the bullman throwing me down in the hay-barn, thoughts of him whipping his jeans down, and launching himself between my legs, penetrating me with his big cock as I struggled beneath him.
It felt good. I pushed a couple of fingers into my drenched snatch, thinking of the bullman.
I found myself alternating between dozing sleepily and masturbating. In a dreamy blissful slumber, I’d start touching myself and bring myself almost to the point of release. Then I’d doze off again.
It was like I was under some sort of spell. Intensely aroused and yet exhausted all at the same time, somewhere between dreaming and awake. I had visions of being plugged tightly by the bullmans big cock.
I stayed in a stupor for quite some time, captivated, unable to release. My pussy felt tortured with lusty desires.
When I finally arose I wasn’t thinking at all. I was on some kind of autopilot mode. I imagine this is how it might feel to be hypnotized.
First I changed my sopping panties and put on a matching bra. I grabbed what I’ve always though was a flattering wrap dress. It was a dark Navy color, satiny fabric, V-necked to show a little cleavage, and cinched in at the waist showing off the swell of my hips and the round of my tummy. Very risque for a farmers wife, let me tell you.
I checked myself in the mirror. The lace trim of my bra peaked out a little from beneath the cover of my dress. Mmm, that might catch his eye. And I still had an attractive figure, even if my hips and bum were slightly larger than they used to be.
I had no plan of action. I went downstairs and put on my boots and coat, which I left hanging open. I proceeded directly towards the cowshed where he was.
As I walked down, I had no idea what I was going to say. How would I go about a seduction. I didn’t really know how.
I knew what I wanted though, what I needed. I wanted to fulfill my horny teenage fantasies. I wanted the bullman to fuck me. I wanted to be used by him, to be cummed in. I felt propelled, spellbound, my lust a supernatural force.
With each step I took the tension grew inside me. I was trembling. The sky seemed to darken with every stride.
He heard me approach and looked up from what he was doing.
I walked over to the shed gate, which was opened inwards. I stood just inside, but a few metres from where Mike was working. I leaned back, lifting my right foot and placing it on the second rung of the gate. My dress billowed in the wind, the wrap first unraveling, then blowing back between my legs, moulding like a second skin against the curve of my mound. How unladylike-like. I can remember it so vividly.
He was watching me intently, staring as he approached. His eyes were a drill boring into my belly and mound. It was obvious what he was thinking. It thrilled me, I was positively tingling.
“How’s the inseminating going?” I asked, quietly, with a hint of humour.
He stood close, in front of me, stony silent as he removed his gloves, the wind ruffling the tuft of hair that he’d inherited from his father.
He seemed unsurprised at my being here. Evidently, he was accustomed to farmer’s wives throwing themselves at him. De he expected it? Perhaps an occupational hazard.
“Let me show you” he answered.
He reached across, placing the heel of his thumb across my belly button, palm flat against my tummy, his long fingers directed downwards. I closed my eyes and moaned softly.
At the same moment rain began pelting against the corrugated iron roof. The noise was loud amplified by the acoustics of the shed.
I felt his hand move, his fingertips drifted slowly down, worming into the split, and through the wrapped layers of my dress, finding their way around my thigh. His touch was delicate, barely perceptible. It glided gently along my crotch, followed by the firmer grope of his palm. His hand moved right in underneath my cunt, the tips of his fingers touched the cheeks of my ass, as his palm pressed against my pussy. My fresh panties were sopping wet.
His hand began to move slowly in and out, fingertips trailing along the fabric of my panties. There was ozone and electricity in the air, a storm brewing. I was breathless from his touch.
He continued stroking, making my cunt weep as he began unbuttoning the front of his overalls. He started below his ribcage and worked downwards, only exposing his midriff.
“You dirty cheating bitch, you’re craving my cock aren’t you?” His tone was knowing, rhetoric. I responded with a whimper.
Both of hands moved quickly underneath the skirt of my dress. He yanked my panties down.
I lifted my left foot out of my panties, but left them dangling about the right ankle, not moving my foot from the rung of the gate.
He took both hands back and unbuttoned his pants. He drew the zipper down and then he slowly produced his cock.
He was hung. I mean seriously hung. I had never seen anything like it, at least not on a man. I didn’t know they grew so large. One thing was for sure, “the bullman” was a most suitable name for this guy.
I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to accommodate him, but seeing it made the dire ache in my cunt even more insistent. I sure as hell was going to try.
He reached over to me again, this time taking hold of the belt that tied my wrap. He tugged sharply, freeing the knot.
My dress fell open and revealed my nakedness beneath, “al fresco” on this chill blustery day. It was dusky dark outside, and the heavens poured.
He stepped a little closer, between my parted legs.
His cock brushed against my inner thigh. It felt it, scorching hot in contrast to the chilly air.
He leaned in to kiss me, as the tip of his tongue danced with mine, so too I felt the head of his hot blooded python brush against the bare skin of my stomach.
He bent his knees and grasped the base of his cock, sliding the tip over and back along my slick juicy slit, lubing his helmet in my copious wetness.
His cock exuded energy. I felt close to coming, the external contact alone was utterly sensational.
Eventually he stopped sliding and pushed a little way into my cunt. The tip went in but the wide bell of his cock wasn’t quite inside me
I’m not sure if it was his girth or the angle of penetration that denied him entry.
He wasn’t giving up though. I felt short pumping thrusts. He adjusted his angle of entry, applying severe and rhythmic pressure against my front vaginal wall.
Even though he wasn’t penetrating me, I felt an orgasm welling up. It was almost like something was pressing against my clit from behind, from inside.
He watched me, waiting for something. He knew it was about to happen. The storm was rising outside.
The pressure increased. His searing pumping thrusts accompanied by a flash of lightning. My pussy exploded as the thunder roared.
I’d never felt anything like it, a squirting orgasm. I ejected onto his overalls and cock, soaking him completely.
He grunted his approval, and without waiting thrust his cock up, this time the angle straighter. It slid inside my spasming orgasming cunt.
I was shaking, overcome with sensitivity as I felt feeling his vastness driving into my writhing bucking body.
He kept working, thrusting, getting deeper with every stroke.
Thunder rolled and lightning flared as he drilled into me. Every sense was utterly alive.
His cock felt radiant inside my cunt, internal sunshine made me glow with blissful happiness.
The nervous cattle lowed loudly, the rain hammered on the roof, the smell of electricty, of ozone, of him. The storm raged outside, the wind ravaged us.
And he fucked me, with his big bullman’s cock, injecting swirling ecstasy as he tortured me with pleasures.
Words fail me. It was incredible. Divine lengths.
As the driving rain beat down, harder and harder so too he fucked me harder and harder.
His movements, his timing in subconscious harmony with the elements.
All the while my euphoria increased. I was multi-orgasming, each peak higher than the one before.
Such intensity was not meant to last. I almost blacked out.
By the end I was screaming. I felt his cock balloon inside me.
Then he was spurting, squirting his abundant load, ejaculating in me.
I bore down fervently onto his sputtering cock. In that same moment I squirted again, my body racked and distressed.
Purely by instinct, my cunt hungrily milked his twitching cock.
As the gushes subsided, so too the downpour from the heavens began to ease. The sky began to brighten.
I gasped breath-fulls of cool fresh air into my burning lungs.
My body twitched, as did his cock. I felt like a puppet, impaled by my master.
Heaven slowly relinquished it’s grip on me, returning me to an earthly plane of being.
When he was finished, he grunted and pulled out. He was difficult to read, I wondered how it was for him.
Showing me no respect, he wiped his cock on the inside of my dress, then zipped himself up.
I stood for a moment, watching him, leaning against the gate, legs still parted.
Following his lead, I leaned down and pulled up my panties.
I wrapped my dress around me, and tied the belt, covering my modesty once again.
We both looked at one another, without talking. He was waiting for me to leave.
As I turned to walk away, I became aware of wetness against my hip, the place where he had just wiped his cock now wet and icky against my skin.
I became suddenly conscious of sensations still rife within me.
I knew he was still watching me.
I felt tingly, a swarm of fury bees were coating my body, buzzing beneath my skin.
I turned back to him.
I moved quickly, walking to him, catching his forearm.
“Won’t you come up to the house? My husband Doug is away. He wont be back for a long while.” I asked awkwardly.
“Thanks Mary, but I best get back to work.” He wasn’t what you’d call the expressive type.
“Please, I’ve never felt that before. I need you to….”
“….to make me feel like that again” I begged.
He didn’t answer.
“Is there anything I could do? Anything you like? Anything? Please.”
He glanced down, staring at the ground, frowning. Perhaps he was ashamed, of his kink.
“Will you wear what you wore for your husband on your wedding night?” he asked, without looking up.
I was relieved, having not not known what to expect. I smiled and kissed his cheek.
“Give me a few minutes then follow me up to the house” I answered. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
The rain had stopped, but it was still very gusty. I turned and began the walk back to the empty farmhouse. I was already craving to have him inside me again…
johnnytee is my favorite author I have done recordings for. He contacted me years ago on Literotica and we have had many stories recorded since he wrote. He is very talented and I always love his works. Here are links to his pages on Climax Connection and Literotica.
Climax Connection – johnnytee
Literotica – johnnytee
The above story was written by another author I have done recordings for. I did not write it, nor do I claim to. I asked for permission to post it and was told I could for others to enjoy it. No one else has permission to copy it or post it unless the author gives it to you.