Jollity Farm

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the sky was blue and mottled with fluffy white clouds; through her gingham-curtained kitchen window, Annie could see all the way down to the stream at the bottom of the hill, where a family of ducks were splashing about in the crystal clear water; another typical day at Jollity Farm.

However, Annie had no thought for ducks, or clouds, no matter how cute those ducks might be, nor how fluffy the clouds. Her attention was focussed on her children, Sally and Peter, blithely playing in the farmyard. Annie had no idea what game they were playing, but it appeared to involve running around shouting and throwing things at each other. Whatever they were playing, it wasn’t the game Annie wanted them to play. She sighed. How could she become a grandmother if her children wouldn’t fuck? Annie knew that Peter was ‘functional’, she had often stood outside his bedroom door, listening while he masturbated. And he was producing any amount of stained sheets for Annie to wash. She just wished he would work out what to do with his little tool, instead of wasting all that lovely jism.

Annie’s mind wandered, imagining her son’s erection; of course, she had seen his penis many times, but never in a state of arousal. If it was anything like his father’s it would be long and thick; but part of Annie longed for something different. Short and fat, or long and slender, a little variety would be nice. Annie longed to see it, touch it, taste it; but she knew her duty. Peter had to start fucking his sister. If he had anything left over for his mum, well that would just be a bonus.

Another thought crossed Annie’s mind. What if he just didn’t fancy Sally? No, that was ridiculous. At just twelve years old, Sally was a gorgeous little thing, with long golden hair (always in pigtails), plump little titties and a lovely round backside. Annie had often seen her husband looking at his daughter with a gleam in his eye and a bulge in his trousers. That was always a possibility of course; if Peter couldn’t or wouldn’t perform, then maybe his daddy would have to do it for him. But that had to be a last resort, mixing up the generations wasn’t a good idea, it could lead to all kinds of complications. Annie chuckled to herself. If she had a cock, she wouldn’t mind sticking it in Sally. Maybe she should get one of those strapon things?

Making up her mind, Annie wrapped a threadbare cardigan around her ample torso and left the house, heading for the woods where she knew her husband would be at this time of day. Strictly speaking, Farmer Giles wasn’t her husband, there was no way they could ever have married in church; but he had been rogering her since they were children, and they had lived as man and wife since Mum and Dad had passed on. Annie knew she had done her bit by bearing two healthy children, but like generations of her family before her, the urge to procreate was irresistible. She had to get Sally and Peter to carry on the line, otherwise who would look after the farm once she and Farmer Giles were gone?

Farmer Giles was exactly where Annie knew he’d be, up at the top of the hill overlooking the farm, sitting with his back propped against the trunk of his favourite oak tree. He stretched lazily, his big mouth opening wide in a huge yawn. He glanced down at the checked handkerchief beside him that had recently contained his lunch; only a few crumbs of bread and cheese remained. He had to give his sister credit, she never stinted on the grub. No one ever left Annie’s table hungry, and even a simple snack was like a three course meal by most people’s standards.

A big smile spread across Farmer Giles’s face as he thought of Annie. Her round, rosy-cheeked face, so like his own; those massive udders, tipped with large, pink nipples that were so sensitive; that big round belly that he liked to cuddle up to at night. But best of all, Farmer Giles liked to think of his sister’s fat arse, with her sweet-tasting cunny nestling between those big white buttocks. He couldn’t see past his own belly, but he knew there was a big bulge in his trousers. What a pity Annie wasn’t here.

Suddenly, there she was. Farmer Giles looked up to see his sister standing over him. “Well, bugger me, Annie,” he grinned up at her. “If I weren’t just thinkin’ of you!”

“Yeah, I can see what you were thinkin’, you dirty old bastard,” she retorted. “But you ain’t got time for that now.”

Farmer Giles’s smile evaporated. From where he lay, he could see up Annie’s thin cotton dress to her plump thighs. He could just imagine those strong legs wrapped around him.

“Cut that out, will you?” Annie’s voice interrupted his fantasy. “You need to do somethin’ about our Peter.”

“What’s up with him then, he’s alright, ain’t he?” Farmer Giles was concerned. Peter was his only son; despite nearly thirty years of daily fucking, Annie had only produced three children. Still, Farmer Giles was quite proud of Peter; only eleven years old, but he was pulling his weight around the farm, he could milk the cows and drive the tractor, what more could anyone expect of him?

“Well, I don’t know if he is or not,” said Annie, distracted by Farmer Giles’s hand sliding up the back of her leg. “He just, um, he don’t seem interested…”

Farmer Giles’s hand was creeping ever higher now, under the hem of Annie’s dress, and her mind strayed from thoughts of Peter. “No… look, you’m gonna have to…” she mumbled, thinking of that big hard lump in her brother’s groin. Forcing herself back to the matter in hand, Annie drew back her leg and kicked Farmer Giles hard in the side, making him groan as the air was driven from his lungs.

“Now, that’s enough, you randy old bugger,” Annie shouted. “You’ve got to talk to the boy!”

“What’m I gonna say to ‘im?” Farmer Giles wheezed, “if he ain’t ready, he ain’t ready, there ain’t nothin’ we can do about it!”

“Oh, he’s ready alright,” Annie retorted. “I do hear ‘im wankin’ his little piece enough, so don’t think he ain’t ready. An’ don’t forget, you was shaggin’ me senseless when you was only ten! Don’t tell me he ain’t ready!”

“Ah, alright, so he can get it up,” Farmer Giles got unsteadily to his feet. “But I don’t reckon he needs talkin’ to. I reckon we gotta show ‘im what to do.”

“You mean let ‘im watch us?” Annie chewed her lip thoughtfully. “That’s an idea,” she mused. Secretly she found she was aroused at the idea of Peter watching her being fucked like a dirty old sow. She felt a wet trickle in her knickers. Farmer Giles still had an erection. “Well,” she grinned, “I think you got somethin’ there. But you’ll have to practice!”

Her brother got the message. He chuckled as her lurched towards his sisters, hands raised to grope those big tits. But Annie had other ideas. “Get back down there boy,” she said. “I’m in charge!”

Farmer Giles lay back down on the soft grass under the tree and started fumbling with his belt. Annie straddled him and lifted her skirt to reveal the damp gusset of her knickers. Her brother’s eyes widened, and so did his smile, as he saw how wet she was.

At last Farmer Giles had his belt buckle undone, and was frantically ridding himself of his trousers, his thick, veiny cock standing proud. Annie looked down at her brother’s meaty organ and grinned. Pulling her panties aside, she slowly lowered herself until her pussy lips were brushing the head of Farmer Giles’s cock.

“Fer God’s sake, woman, get that fuckin’ thing in yer!” Farmer Giles roared, eager for release. Grasping Annie’s hips he tried to pull her down onto him, but nearly forty years of farmwork had made her as strong as him. She squatted over him, rocking her pelvis back and forth, allowing her labia to brush the head of his cock. Farmer Giles expelled a deep grunt through gritted teeth.

Now she could feel the thick meat inside her literally throb, and she knew it wouldn’t be long. Reaching between her legs, Annie teased her big clit from it’s fleshy hood and started to rub it between her fingers.