Buying the Farm

This is a story of fiction. The places exist, not the people. The story contains sex; oral, vaginal, fisting, and anal. If you can't take a story with those elements in it don't read this story. They are in this story because they assist in telling you about the characters in the story. The story also includes payback, betrayal, trust issues, and consequences.

Driving home at three in the morning isn't my idea of a good deal. That being said, I have done it for years. My wife talked me into living in a beautiful rural community in southern Washington. We found a great log cabin big enough for us and even a kid, if one came along. She even found a job in Trout Lake. I needed to keep my job in Portland. Portland is a three hour commute... one way!

Somehow I was convinced, by her, that this would be great. I would live in a tiny studio in Portland all week and drive home after work Friday night. On Monday I would drive back to Portland in time to be at work at four in the afternoon.

For the first six months it was sort of fun. I would leave work at just after midnight and by three or four in the morning I was crawling into bed with a naked, horny woman. We would spend Saturday and Sunday having fun in bed and in the countryside and then I would make the trek back to work. Charlene was a good looking country woman. Someone's first look didn't say "Good looking woman," it said, "Good looking country woman." She worked on a farm. She wore western clothes. Jeans more often than any other outfit. The jeans always looked like they were tailored for her body. The western shirts were always tight and she had just the right stuff to fill out the shirts in the right places. Her hair looked brown when she stood in the shade or the evening outside. In the sunlight it showed red highlights. We went to grange dances, hiking, swam in the White Salmon river and we even went white water rafting in that river.

In the second six months two things happened. The first was weather. In dry, clear weather the commute was about three hours. One night in early fall it was raining when I got off work. At six in the morning I inched across the bridge between Hood River and White Salmon. At eight-twenty I parked my truck in front of our cabin and walked into a bigger storm. It was Charlene. She was frantic with worry over the thought that I had been in an accident or hit by lightning. I wanted to sleep and she wanted to talk. She talked and got really angry when I fell asleep on the couch.

By the end of that wet, gray weekend changes had been made. First, I would get a cell phone so Charlene could call me while I was on the road. Second, if the weather report forecasted a storm in the gorge I needed to stay in Portland. That way she wouldn't worry so much. During the wet, gray weekend she stayed naked most of Sunday day and night. She woke me Sunday morning with her mouth around my cock. After breakfast we went back to bed and had slow, sensual sex while the rain tapped on the metal roof of our cabin. Charlene had made a big pot of stew on Friday so we ate well all weekend. I woke Charlene Monday morning with my face in the "Y". Her wake up orgasm was a screamer. Her second was inspired by my cock in her bald pussy and my finger on her clit. Then I showered, dressed and was on the road back to Portland.

I was two hours late for work. The boss and I talked and he gave me a cell phone. He wanted to be able to find me and stay in communication now that the weather was starting towards winter. I was smiling when I left his office. I didn't need to buy a cell phone. Charlene would be happy with how quickly I had obtained a cell phone. I called her the next morning and scored big points by being so prompt.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday the weather was colder and clear. I found myself watching the weather on TV every day. At work Thursday night the forecast was for a storm to hit the gorge from Portland to Pendleton Friday evening. I knew that the odds were that I wasn't going home. The boss gave me extra work over the weekend so if I couldn't go home I at least could make some extra money.

I called Charlene. She had been watching the forecasts too. She sounded disappointed that I wasn't coming home. I didn't mention the extra work or extra money. With the extra money in the next check I bought a bigger TV for my tiny apartment, and I put some money in a savings account.

It was a wet Fall. In October I made it home twice. In November I was home for Thanksgiving weekend only. It snowed in Trout Lake on Thanksgiving. Winter had arrived. On Sunday morning after Thanksgiving it snowed hard. By noon I was thinking I ought to head for Portland or risk missing a week's work. Charlene gave me a quickie blow job and sent me down the road. The drive took nine hours. It was dark long before I was in my little apartment. I called and Charlene sounded relieved that I made it "home safe." I didn't see my apartment as home. December was a series of storms and accumulated snow. When I got home the second weekend of December there was seven foot of accumulated snow around our cabin. I spent a good portion of Saturday with a shovel in my hands. I spent most of Saturday night with Charlene's various body parts in my hands, arms, and touched by lips, tongue and cock. She took me into a hot shower and scrubbed me both clean and hot. Her skills at taking my body to wonderfully joyful places were the best that weekend. After we got out of the shower we dried each other and went in by the fireplace. I had her walk in front of me because I love watching her ass as she walks. As she spread a blanket on the rug in front of the fire I was hard from watching her move. She grasped my cock and guided me to the blanket. We embraced and kissed. Charlene put me on my back and sat on my hips. She pinned my cock between my hips and her pussy and rocked gently against me. I watched her breasts as she rocked and soon I could not resist holding her breasts and touching the areolas and nipples gently. I love seeing and feeling them tighten from my touch. Charlene shifted and I was inside her. She rocked against me, grinding her clit against my skin. I lifted her and slid her up and down my cock.

Seconds before I couldn't hold back anymore Charlene grunted once and went stiff. Her head went back; her back arched and a low growling sound came from her. She shook for long seconds and then she spasmed and almost fell off me. I held on to her hips and waited until she started to calm down. I had cum with her but I was still hard.

"Oh Nick, that was so good!"

"Oh yes! I've never seen you cum like that!"

"You're still hard!"

"You make me hard! I want more of you!"

"My pussy is almost raw. I want to take care of you. You get to choose: my lips or my ass? You can have either."

"Get on all fours. I choose your ass."

"I want to see you when you cum. Let's do it this way." She put a pillow on the floor and lay herself on it, using the pillow to elevate her hips and angle her self so I was facing her open pussy and ass. I stroked into her pussy enough to wet my cock completely and then moved the tip to her pucker.

Charlene took a deep breath and said, "Slide into my ass Honey! All the way in!"

I pushed and she relaxed. I slid in, slowly. She moaned and held her legs open and up against her shoulders. I love the way a woman looks when she is in that position. I stroked all the way in and all the way out. Again and again. She was wet and oh, so tight but I wasn't going crazy. The urge to cum wasn't rising quickly. It was rising but I felt like I could go hours.

I don't know how long we actually went but it wasn't hours. Next morning she was sore all over so she made French toast and gave me a promissory note for my next visit. I figured two weeks at the most and I would be redeeming her promise.

The second change that happened in the second six months was called Bill. Bill owned the farm where Charlene worked. He was ten years older than me, married, and had three kids. He drove around in a Ford F-350 four door pick up and always looked like he was posing for a movie. Bill decided that he and Charlene ought to be doing more late night business conferences, long lunches, and getting improved communications between management and support staff.

On the occasions when I did get home Bill was neither seen nor heard about. Charlene was mine on my weekends in the country. In January I was home once. In February I was home once. I wanted Charlene to move back to Portland where we could act like we were married. I said so.

Charlene showed me her last pay stub. She had gone from $9.50 an hour when she started in April to $19.00 an hour! She was doing quite well in her new job. Not only that but she was getting between ten and twenty hours of overtime every week! I was doubly surprised when she showed me a brochure for a vacation she thought we might like. She wanted to know when I wanted to go. We decided that late May would be good. I'd never been to Alaska on a cruise. Now we would have a week of sun, scenery, and a small cabin for fun!

In March we had some really bad weather and for two weeks the road was washed out and the drive would have been eight hours longer to get home. I didn't go. I was home one weekend. I was starting to see a pattern. I was married two days a month and celibate the rest of the month.

The weather cooperated in April. It rained some but that only added an hour or so to the commute. I was home the first weekend in April. On the following Wednesday I got a call from Charlene just before I headed for work.

"Hi. How are things in Portland?"

"Lonely, but the weather looks good for this weekend."

"That's why I'm calling. I need to go to a conference this weekend for the farm. Mary was going to go but two of her kids have chicken-pox. You can come up if you want but I'm going to be gone."

"I can't say I like the idea of you going out of town but I'll come up. If the weather holds I can get a couple projects done."

"That would be good. Maybe you could clean up some of the winter debris in the yard?"

"Sure. I'll put that high on my list."

Charlene told me she would miss out special time and promised to make it up to me.

On Friday I bought some things in Portland that I thought I may need in Trout Lake. When I got off at midnight I gassed up and headed home. At a little after four I parked next to Charlene's car and went into the cabin. She must have driven with someone to the conference. I sacked out alone and slept until lunch time on Saturday. I drove to the gas station and got gas and since the only burger place is part of the gas station I had lunch. I had been unseen around town for most of the winter so the four people eating burgers didn't know me. I listened as they talked, especially after I heard one woman mention Charlene.

"You know Charlene is gone this weekend?"

"Really? Bill must be tired of screwing her at her place. Where did they go?"

"Bill was telling the office staff that there was a conference in Bend for equipment he thought we might need this summer. Darlene told me he had her book two rooms in Bend."

"I wonder if either of them will actually go to the conference?"

"I saw them in conference last week in the big barn. Seems Charlene was on her knees examining something Bill had in his pants."

"I've seen that same conference out in the drying barn."

These young people were telling me that Charlene was messing around with her boss, Bill! Damn! I wondered if it were true, and how I could verify their story. I needed proof! I finished my lunch and went back to our cabin. Using my cell phone I called Bend Chamber of Commerce and asked where the conference for farming equipment was being held. I called that hotel and asked if Charlene Peterson was registered. They said "No." I asked if any rooms were registered for Green Leaf Farms. They confirmed that two rooms were registered for the farm.

I called a friend that worked for the same company as I did, but in our Bend office. After a conversation with him I emailed him a picture of Charlene. Three hours later I had a return email of five pictures my friend had just taken of Charlene and Bill at the hotel. Two of the five were of them kissing. One showed Bill holding Charlene's ass while they stood in the elevator. I was convinced that the story I heard was true. My wife was screwing her boss! Now the question became what to do about it.

I started a couple small projects around the house and finished them as I thought. One thought was about Bill's wife. Did she know? Did she care? I had no idea where they lived in the valley but figured I could find out fairly easily. I drove over to the tiny post office. Trout Lake doesn't have delivery. Everyone in town goes to the post office to get their mail.

Once at the post office I spoke to the postal worker. I told her that I was thinking about buying a cabin and spending part of the summer here. The more we talked the more I learned about Trout Lake the community. In the fifteen minutes I was there eight women came in to check and pick up mail. I asked if men came in too. She told me that one man always picked up his own mail. Bill. Seems his wife didn't get out much. Word was that she was shy. Lived in a big brick house just out the north side of town. She had a car, a black Ford Expedition that she used to transport kids to and from school. We talked a couple minutes more and I said I'd be back as soon as I found a suitable cabin.

I drove out north of town and saw the brick house with a black Ford SUV parked in front. A woman was out in front using a hoe on the flowerbeds along the fence. I drove up near her and rolled down the window of my car.

"Is this where Bill Stevens lives?"

"Who's askin?" She leaned on the hoe and looked me over. I looked her over too. Bib overalls can hide a multitude of sins but these seemed intent on allowing her breasts to escape. She wasn't overweight to my eyes but, she was wearing bibs. About 5'5", maybe 135 ponds, brown hair cut short for comfort and ease of care. That was my two second assessment.

"I'm Pete Peterson."

"Charlene's husband?" Her eyes widened. She looked around.

"Yup."

"Drive three quarters of a mile down this road to a small sign that says CR-18. Turn right and go about two hundred yards. Wait there. I'll be there as quick as I can. It may take me half and hour. Now, go." She went back to work with her hoe. I drove off.

"She knows," I said, out loud. When I saw the sign for County Road 18 I turned. Two hundred yards later I stopped at a small clearing. A picnic table and one of those camp stoves the forest service uses were there. I got out of my truck and sat on the table. Twenty minutes went by.

A black Expedition parked behind my truck. Mrs. Bill Stevens got out. She looked around and then walked to me. Twice she brushed her hair back.

"You came to see if I knew, didn't you?"

"Yes, among other things."

"OK. I know. I can't prove a damn thing and Bill says nothing is going on, but I know he's lying!"

"Unless we can prove it we both stand to lose a lot by taking any action. What do you want to do?"

"Get the evidence and hang them both out to dry!"

"OK. I agree. I need to be able to communicate with you. Can we set a schedule and have you call me down in Portland?"

"No. Bill watches the phone usage like it meant his life. He even arranged that incoming calls are on our bill. You can't call me. And, don't write. He picks up all the mail and he reads every piece."

"I'm coming back next weekend. I will bring you an unlisted cell phone. Keep it off except when you can get away and call me. To be safe I will include a slip of paper with my cell phone number on it. Only the last two numbers will be two digits high. My number ends in 4725 but on the slip it will say 4747. That way if someone sees it they still won't have my number."

"How will you get the phone to me?"

"I come up in the dark Saturday morning before dawn. Before I go home I'll swing in here and put the phone behind that tree with the broken branch." I pointed. "Anytime after Monday morning you can come collect the phone, but you might want to just leave it here and only use it from here."

"That probably would be safer."

"I will be working on our problem and when we talk again I may have a plan."

"Good! I am so glad you finally found out, and I'm sorry you found out." Her eyes were full and one tear ran down her face.

"How long have you been suspicious?"

"Bill never used to attend conferences. He said they couldn't tell him how to farm. Suddenly, just before Thanksgiving, he said he was going to a conference. When he got back all his clothes were clean. Not even a dirty sock in his suitcase. Two weeks later I heard that Charlene had gone to the conference too."

"And?"

"And they have been at four conferences since. Bill hasn't bought anything at any conference. Two weeks ago they were gone on a Tuesday and Wednesday but the conference had been cancelled. When I unpacked Bill's suitcase there was a pair of yellow thong panties in the suitcase."

"OK. We know, but need proof. What do you think Bill will do when he gets caught?"

"If he gets caught by me, I'm probably dead. If he gets caught publicly he'll bluster and cave in."

"That's good to know."

"What will Charlene do?" "Either disappear or beg for forgiveness and blame Bill."

"OK. I'd better get back. I told my sister I thought I saw our dog. He ran away two weeks ago. Actually I think Bill killed him as payback for something I had done to displease him."

"OK. I'll wait here for a while and then go home."

I watched her walk to her Ford and drive off. I waited a while thinking about what we might be able to do, then I went home. As I walked in the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Honey?"

"Yup. How's the conference?"

"Boring. What're you up to?"

"Oh a lot of homeowner's to-do list stuff. There's a list of stuff I'll pick up in Portland and then I can finish some projects when I come back. Let's both pray for good weather and no conferences for next weekend."

"I'll pray for that."

"When will you be home?"

"We'll be leaving Bend at about noon on Monday. I figure we'll be back in Trout Lake by dark."

"I'll be thinking about you as we're both on the road Monday."

"I'll think of you too."

She sounded sincere. I was torn. What was going on? Would she plead the "I was lonely" defense? Would she accept fault or attempt to hand it to me? Over the next few hours at home I looked for and thought about how I could get the evidence we needed. I ate a straight-from-the-can dinner and turned on the TV. Trout Lake gets three channels, unless you have a dish. Two of the three are far enough away that the signal has snow year round. The third is based in Trout Lake and does craft shows, PTA meetings, city council meetings and such. A craft show was on. Five women were showing how they were making a double-wedding-ring quilt. The show was shot in the home of one of the women and linked to the valley transmitter.

When I went to bed I had a strange dream. I dreamed about people tuning in for the quilt show and seeing Charlene and Bill romping on the quilt on our bed. In my dream the phone lines buzzed and soon everyone was watching them fuck on Valley Public TV.

As I drove back to Portland, the dream started looking more and more like a plan. While I was at work I talked with the techies at work about how to do a remote transmission to Valley Public TV. They gave me a list of the equipment I could rent and how to set it up. One of them made a few calls and found the frequency we needed to broadcast on. By Thursday I had all the equipment I needed and had even tested it so I knew what I was doing. The techies even gave me a way to trigger the transmission without being anywhere near the equipment.