I’m continuing to highlight some of the stories I have in anthologies as they don’t usually get as much exposure (if you’ll pardon the pun) as my single-author stories. Here’s an excerpt from my story, Farm Hand, which appears in Xcite Books anthology The Look of Lust, which also contains my story, Spa Daze, under the name of Louisa Harvey. Enjoy!
As Ramona made her way down the gravel track, she spotted some farm buildings. Glancing down at her map, she nodded. Her route would take her right through the farm yard and then the public footpath continued over a stile into the adjacent field.
She just hoped she didn’t meet any hostile dogs. Or geese. She shuddered. Geese could be vicious creatures.
As she drew closer to the yard, Ramona could see someone hefting bales of hay off a truck. She sighed with relief. At least the farmer would be able to control any unruly animals.
As he turned to place a bale on the ground, Ramona saw the man in profile. He was younger than she’d expected. Much younger, in fact. As his powerful body moved beneath his clothes, Ramona watched, open-mouthed. All thoughts of scary dogs and geese were erased from her mind. She was still drawing closer to him, though her steps were stealthier now. Ramona didn’t want him to know she was there just yet. She was enjoying the flex of his muscles far too much to want to disturb him.
By now, Ramona was close enough to make out his features. Mmm, she thought, he is absolutely not your typical farmer. This guy is hotter than the surface of the sun.
Stopping, she stood at the end of the lane, still within the cover of the trees and hedges lining it. The farmer continued working, his big body heaving the hay around as though it were feathers. It didn’t look as though anyone else was around. He unloaded the lorry without pausing. The only telltale sign of his exertion was the sweep of his sleeve across his forehead, mopping up the sweat that threatened to trickle down his face.
Ramona was in danger of some trickling of her own, only much lower down. Then, just as she thought she’d better get on with her walk, the farmer stopped. Ramona froze, thinking he’d seen her lurking in the shadowy lane. He hadn’t. It appeared the beating sun and his workload were getting to him.
Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he tugged it up over his head, then balled it up and tossed it into the cab of the truck. Ramona suppressed a lusty moan. Hotter than the surface of the sun had been a completely apt description.
The farmer’s long lean body tapered down into narrow hips, from which hung loose combat trousers. They were slung so low that she could see the line of dark hair running from his bellybutton southwards.
Completely oblivious to his appreciative audience, the farmer carried on with what he’d been doing. Now he was moving the bales into a nearby barn. Ramona drank in his every detail: the dusting of dark hair on his broad chest; his muscular arms; handsome face and ohhh – she bit her lip as he bent over – his tight arse.
Any minute now and his wife was going to come out with a cool drink, Ramona was sure of it. There was no way a man this attractive hadn’t been snapped up. She waited. Nobody came.
By now, she was getting really rather agitated. Her lusty behaviour meant the gusset of her knickers was wet. It stuck to her skin, and her pussy ached. She stuffed her hand between her thighs and squeezed them together, hoping the friction would provide some relief. It didn’t.
Across the yard, the hard-working hunk wiped his brow again, then glanced at his watch. A surprised expression crossed his attractive features. Ramona checked her own watch. Lunchtime.
There were only a few stacks of hay left sitting on the concrete to be taken into the barn. Ramona could see what was going to happen. He was going to put the last few bales away and head in for lunch, leaving her there, insanely horny and with no chance of relief. She wasn’t even half way through her walk, so it wasn’t as if she could rush home to stroke herself to climax.
Ramona’s brain whirred, flicking through a multitude of devious plans, none of which seemed plausible. The sweaty sex god was now walking out of the barn once more, having deposited his last load. He moved in the direction of the farmhouse.
Ramona’s hormones took over and forced her brain into a quick – probably quite reckless – decision. Stepping out of the shady lane, she pretended to turn her ankle and went down with a loud yelp, her map slapping down on the concrete next to her.
Turning at the sound, the farmer couldn’t help but see her hunched on the floor, clutching her ankle. He ran over, muscles pumping and flexing as he moved. Ramona swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth. She was going for damsel in distress, not drooling mess.
‘Hey, are you OK?’ Stupid question aside, the farmer’s deep, seductive voice made Ramona hot. She wanted him. If he turned her down for whatever reason, then fine. She’d just have to go home and wank herself silly. But she was going to give it her best shot.
He crouched beside her, hands already reaching for her “injured” ankle. He wore no wedding ring. Adrenalin pumped through Ramona’s body and her heart fluttered in her chest. Then she mentally shook herself. That didn’t mean a thing. He probably didn’t wear it for work in case he lost it. Or perhaps he had a girlfriend, but wasn’t married yet.
When he touched her, Ramona’s brain promptly disengaged from that thought process.
‘Ooh,’ she moaned, then remembered to sound uncomfortable, rather than aroused, ‘ouch. I turned it on a stone or something.’
Want to find out what happens next? Grab your copy of The Look of Lust here. It’s a bargain, and you get five other sexy stories, too! Even better, one of them’s mine, and another is by Victoria Blisse! 😀