Five Years Later - Hunger



Five years later.

I can’t believe I own a farm now, thanks to my doting husband.  After I gave birth to our second child, Brendan, John insisted.  He said it was a baby gift, although it’s far beyond anything I could have anticipated.  My eyes went wide when he handed me the deed.

“John, you shouldn’t have,” I breathed, looking at the piece of paper in my hand.  My name was on the certificate, and it said I was the proud new owner of Hemsworth Farms, Inc.  “Other people give strollers and cribs, but you bought me a farm!”

My husband merely leaned forward to press a kiss to my forehead.

“And you absolutely deserve it,” he growled in my ear while nuzzling the lobe.  “This is the best way to make you feel secure, and I want that for you, Brit.  I never want you to feel like you’re going to go hungry again.”

Tears squeeze from my eyes as I press my lips to his gratefully.

“But John, you could have gotten me a gift card to ShopMore, or maybe built me a greenhouse on our terrace.  A farm is too much!”

My husband was adamant.

“No, it’s not too much, honey.  You deserve this.  You’ve been a wonderful mommy to our children, and I know you put your career on hold to look after Brynna and Brendan these past few years.  Now, I want you to enjoy being you, and to have your own thing.  You’re more than a mother and wife; you’re an amazing woman with so much to share, and I want to be sure the world knows it.”

With that, I threw my arms around his neck, peppering his face with kisses and happy tears.  It’s been wonderful these last two years.  The farm is up and running, and I inherited a large staff with the purchase.  I have a foreman who knows everything, and he’s really shown me the ropes.  I don’t have to worry about the day to day operations and can really focus on the bigger picture.

But today, I’m in one of the outer pastures, tending to our tomatoes.  I’m far from the rest of the farm, and I savor this quiet time alone, digging in the dirt and enjoying the aroma of fresh-turned sod.  The tomatoes are lovely this summer, lush and ripe with deep orange skins ready to burst.  The vines are tall and thick, and they shade me from the bright summer sun.  We’re going to have an amazing harvest.

Suddenly, there’s a rustle in back of me and I sit up sharply.  There’s been a rabbit outbreak recently, and we’ve been working hard to investigate techniques to keep the animals from getting into our produce.

“Shoo!” I cry out in an effort to startle them.  “Get away!”

But instead of a small brown hare, instead my huge husband steps into view.  He grins at me.

“Any luck with those rabbits?” John asks with a quirk of his mouth.  He looks gorgeous as always, dressed in a t-shirt that highlights his broad chest and muscular fame, as well as casual jeans that drape from his hips.

I sit back on my heels and press my straw hat back.  My face is probably flushed from the heat, and I’m wearing nothing but a tiny tank top and short shorts.

“No, they’re still around,” I say ruefully.  “Nothing we do seems to work because let’s face it:  they’re rabbits, so they multiply like rabbits.”

My husband laughs, and bends over to press a kiss to my sweaty cheek.

“Well, I can call animal control if you want,” he offers.

“No!” I say sharply.   “We’ll handle it.  I don’t like what the SPCA does.  They’re inhumane.”

John grins.

“Except that they used to be known as the ‘Humane Society.’”

I nod and smile up at him with serious eyes.

“Yes, but their methods today are just so …  I don’t know, barbaric.”

My husband presses another kiss to my cheek, helping me stand.

“That’s why I love you,” he whispers into my ear.  “You’re so loving and caring, Brit.  You even care about the pests that eat your veggies.”

I giggle lightly as his hand trails over my tummy.  It’s still poochy from being pregnant, and I don’t think the softness will ever go away.  But John loves my curves, and as I sigh, leaning my head back against his shoulder, his hand trails lower over my tummy and into the waistband of my shorts.

“John!” I gasp, titillated.

“What?” he murmurs in my ear.

“We’re outdoors!  And people could see!”

He merely laughs low in his throat.

“No one’s around, Brit.  We’re two miles from the rest of the farm, and no one’s going to see.  Besides, I rather like the idea of taking my wife hard and fast in nature.  Could be fun.”

By now, he’s lifted up my shirt so that the material’s bunched up above my breasts.  My giant orbs hang out because I didn’t wear a bra today, and he pinches and squeezes my nipples.  I arch my back, luxuriating in the sensation as he molds them with those big hands.

“Mmmm,” I murmur breathily.  “That feels good.”

My husband merely chuckles deep in his chest, while snaking his hands down to my shorts.  In seconds, they’re off and he’s stroking through my wet folds.

“No panties today, sweetheart?” he murmurs in my ear.  “My, what a bad girl you are.”

I giggle slightly, even as my breath catches.

“It’s hot,” I gasp as he holds my folds open to get at my clit.  “I knew I was working outside today, so I skipped the … oooooh!”

My husband chuckles as I moan and squirm, gushing into his hand.  He pinches my clit hard, and I squeal again as hot sparks run through my pussy.  “Mmmm!”

But John likes things a certain way these days, and as he strokes my pussy, he catches my female dew on his hand, only to drag his fingers up to circle my back hole.

“Can I have this?” he whispers in my ear.  “Your butt is always so tight, Brit.”

I squirm as slowly, he edges the tip of his thumb into my asshole.

“Yes,” I breathe.  “But make sure you get me lubed up.”

I can feel the low vibration of his chuckle in his chest.

“Of course, sweetheart.  I would never take you dry like that.”  His hand departs for a moment, and then it comes back, slick and wet.  I know he’s covered his palm in pre-cum, and he’s now rubbing it all over my tight pleats before inserting two fingers into my ass.

“Oh,” I moan deliriously.  “Fuck me!”

He grins and pushes my back down so that I’m almost touching the dirt floor with my hands.

“Certainly, sweetheart,” he rasps, scissoring his fingers in my ass to stretch me out for the coming penetration.  “I’m only too happy to.”

With that, he pulls his fingers out, and I feel the huge, hard helmet of his penis rub against my back pleats.  The sensation is delicious and I let out another low moan as my breasts dangle.

“Fuuuuuuck!” is my wail.

He chuckles again, although now there’s a raspy sound to his voice.

“Of course,” he murmurs, nudging that head in.  “Relax, sweetheart.  Let me into your butt.  Give it to me.”

I squeal more as his head works its way inside, the pressure and fullness intense.  I can’t believe this is happening.  I’m nude, bent over outdoors, and taking my husband’s cock in my ass.  It’s so taboo and forbidden, and yet I love getting my anus stretched whenever John feels the need.

Sure enough, he pushes harder then, and with a pop, my sphincter opens.  His enormous shaft slides in all the way, and I jerk up, my ass stuffed so full.

“Fuuuuuck!” I wail again.  “Oh god!”

John merely huffs and pants behind me.  He pulls back, and then thrusts in again, and I can imagine what it looks like from his vantage point.  My big, creamy moons, spread open for his pleasure, his huge shaft penetrating the small, dark hole that belongs to him.

“Give it to me,” he rasps in an unsteady voice.  “Let yourself go, Britney.”

He does a few more pumps, and then I can’t take it anymore.  Backdoor stimulation is my downfall these days, and my anus clenches on him. 

“Fuck!” I scream.  “Unnnh!”

He pumps a few more times before gripping my hips and exploding deep into my bowels.

“Fuck is right,” he heaves, virile semen jetting all over my anal cavern.  “Shit!”

But John isn’t one who likes to waste sperm.  At that last moment, he pulls out and buries himself in my pussy, ejaculating the last of his load into my steaming cunt.

“John!” I scream.  “I’m not on the pill!”

“I know, baby,” he moans, even as hot pulses spill into my wet folds.  “I want you to have more babies.  I want to keep you full of my babies because you look so good, pregnant and huge.  I’m so hungry for you, sweetheart, and it’s the caveman in me that wants to keep you barefoot and expecting.”

I merely sigh and smile, even as my pussy pulses, absorbing his sperm.  After all, I have a secret.  I’m already two months pregnant, and I just haven’t found the right time to tell my husband yet.  But now, with another pussy full of semen, I smile to myself.  After all, once upon a time I was hungry for food.  But now, I’m just hungry for my husband’s love … and his virile seed.




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