Black Dirt

Info trailmate
06 Nov. '18
Black Dirt

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

As anyone halfway versed in Midwestern culture (I might be using the word ‘culture’ pretty loosely.) knows, the term ‘black dirt’ has nothing whatsoever to do with race. If you travel in the corn belt and happen to stop in a farm-town cafe and listen to the locals, at some point you are going to here the term spoken, maybe something like this: “You hear that old Trostmich farm sold for 380,000? 140 acres, at least 125 of it good black dirt. Man that’s 3,000 an acre.”

Norman Gieriger drove the big red Farmall 560 diesel up the driveway, stopped near the garden gate and shut off the engine. He had left the 5 bottom plow hooked on – no point unhooking, he would continue with the spring plowing that afternoon. Still sitting high in the tractor seat, he looked around with satisfaction. The big barn, loafing shed and milking parlor where morning and night almost 300 gallons of milk were collected from the 47 cows that were now lactating. The hog sheds from where every month they shipped 60 to 70 two hundred pound hogs for slaughter. Winter wheat had resumed growing and was waving in the light spring breeze. The smell of newly plowed rich black dirt was in the air.

When Norman was a boy, the farm had been much smaller – 130 acres. Buying out less talented and/or childless farmers had increased that to 480 acres – all rich black prairie soil that clever Yankee speculators had once sold to unwitting German immigrants. That the church Norman and his family belonged to had played a key role in bringing in those immigrants, he knew in a fleeting sort of way. For him, like lots of his family, neighbors and fellow church members, a detailed knowledge and understanding of history was a frivolous luxury, perhaps even a dangerous luxury. After all, he knew that educated people tended to harbor Communist ideas.

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Some 13 decades earlier

In the late1830’s a unique group of German immigrants began arriving at the port of New Orleans. There they transferred to steamboats for the journey up the Mississippi to St. Louis. Back in Europe the small German states had begun to unify and were at the same time trying to force the various Protestant denominations to unify. Not all wanted to be unify, least of all these newly arrived settlers who were part of a very conservative denomination that had not taken part in the gradual evolution of Protestantism. Their leaders had told them that in the United States, church and state were strictly separated and they would be free to worship as they saw fit.

In St. Louis they were met by church members who had been sent as an advance party to reconnoiter and locate areas suitable for settlement. They, like the thousand of immigrants to follow, would also be met by Eastern (Yankee) land speculators who had bought up large tracts of worthless prairie and swamp land in Illinois on the east side of the Mississippi and to the north in what is now Iowa and Wisconsin.

Little more than 10 years earlier, the seemingly endless tracts of grassland had been home to native Americans and vast herds of buffalo living interdependently. Interdependently in that the natives hunted the buffalo for meat and hides and the buffalo grazed on the prairie grass that was dominant because the natives regularly set fires to kill off brush and timber. The result of centuries of rotting grass, ashes and buffalo shit was rich black dirt, high in organic matter and unbelievingly fertile.

The arriving Germans spoke no English and desperate for land, they were easy prey for the slick Yankee speculators, who in the evenings would gather over beer and laugh at how easy it was to sell worthless land at outrageous prices to the stupid Germans.

Seeing their newly purchased land for the first time, the settlers were confronted with chest-high grass, densely and deeply rooted in the soil. Preparing the soil for planting was a nightmare. Wooden plow shares broke. Cast iron plow shares held up but quickly became gummed up by the sticky black prairie soil.

Fortunately for the settlers, plowing soon got easier as steel plowshares became available. In the late 1830’s, a Grand Detour, Illinois blacksmith by the name of John Deere had transformed a worn out sawmill blade into a plow share and thereby invented the steel plow. Gumming up was much reduced and the steel cut through the matted roots.

Some of the poor unsuspecting Germans had been tricked into buying even what was thought to be completely worthless wetlands that were so flat they never dried out except during the most extreme droughts. However, the Germans remembered how low lying flat ground was dealt with in the old country – dig ditches and lay drainage tiles.

After a few decades it was apparent that the German settlers were having the last laugh. The lands that they now held, once impenetrable prairie and worthless swamp, had become the most productive agricultural land in the world – the great American corn belt.

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The two-story house where Norman lived with his wife Gladys was built in the 1920’s by his father and grandfather. Beyond it was the single story ranch-type home he’d had built for his son Vernon and daughter-in-law Cora. Vernon had taken over the dairy operation while Norman ran the hog operation. The field work, corn, soybeans and wheat, the two men shared more or less equally.

The farm, his family, the church, yes Norman could be completely content with how his life had worked out. Except for one thing.

When they sat down for lunch, Norman felt that Gladys had something on her mind, something serious and he had a feeling that it would not be a comfortable discussion. At the same time he had a feeling that the ensuing discussion would lead to a resolution of the issue that had been bothering him for years.

After Gladys had cleared the table and brought coffee, she sat down and took a sip of coffee. After a few minutes of silence, “Norm, we need to talk.”

“I’m all ears.” He had a feeling what the subject would be.

“Cora was here this morning.”

He knew what the discussion would be about. He just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. “Oh yeah. She’s been here a lot lately hasn’t she. Something wrong or are you two cooking up a new recipe?”

“Norm, please! Vern and Cora’s wedding anniversary last June was their third.”

“Boy time flies. Imagine our boy already married three years. That sure was a nice anniversary dinner she made.”

“Dancing around the subject won’t make the problem go away. And you know very well what the problem is. It’s been bugging you long enough.”

“Gladys, sometimes women just don’t conceive right away and then all of a sudden, bingo!”

“Norm, it’s not Cora who can’t conceive. Vern has a condition.”

Norman’s face got red and he stood up. “Gladys, Vernon is not queer! I bet they were doing it before they were supposed to. No, no, our son is not the reason we don’t have grandkids from them.”

Gladys continued, “Norm, please sit down and hear me out. Of course he’s not queer and of course, we don’t know - they may have been doing it well before they were supposed to. We did too, remember? That’s why we had a February wedding instead of in June.”

Norman and Gladys had been engaged for several months when she had missed a period. To avoid the shame of a way-too-soon baby, their wedding was moved up from June to February. There had been whispering among neighbors, friends and family and when Vernon was born in September, they had all counted 8 months back to the wedding, but by then the sensation of the slightly-too-soon baby wasn’t too great. The old saying, ‘The first one can come anytime, afterwards it takes nine months’, was repeated among the voyeuristic, but the Gieriger family had avoided the shame of a bride wearing her apron high.

Norman had fond memories of those tussles in the back seat of his dad’s ’36 Chevy. They had dated for many months before Gladys had finally let him fondle her breasts - over her clothing. Then things moved a little faster and a few weeks later the top of her dress was down and her bra was unsnapped. What he didn’t have fond memories of were the many unsatisfied erections and aching testicles. How many times after dropping Gladys off at her parents’ house, had he stopped the Chevy on the way home and gotten out to jack off? However, on the Saturday night when he had first touched the wet crotch of her panty, he didn’t have to jack off. When she announced her high point with a whimpering moan and a squeeze of his arm, he had ejaculated in his underpants. On the way home, he’d tossed the underpants. His mother had missed them, but he had stonewalled. In the end a crow had gotten the blame for stealing them off the wash line.

The next weekend, he had gotten his hand inside her panty. Worried that he was about having to blame a crow for another pair of lost underpants, he had managed to postpone ejaculating.

Her grabbing his arm brought him out of his reverie. “Norm, are you listening?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. I was just remembering.”

“Remembering! What?”

“You know. What we all did in Dad’s old Chevy.”

“You mean like how we finally did it lying across the back seat with our legs sticking out the door?”

“I wasn’t that far yet. Just to when I first got my hand inside your panties.”

“Oh Norm, that’s so sweet of you to remember. And then you took my hand and put it on you. You were really hard, and big. It did scare me a little. I had no idea what to do so you showed me how to move my hand back and forth on your slacks.”

The conversation wasn’t going without effect on him. He was already hard and wondered if this might lead to something more. “Yeah Gladys. I remember you were kind of embarrassed, but it was an eager embarrassment.”

“You sure weren’t embarrassed. Then you took your slacks and underpants down and had me touch you bare. I always wondered if that old hanky you gave me to use just happened to be in the car. Was it?”

“No. I planted it. So, guilty as charged!”

Gladys’ remembrance of that scene in the car was very clear. Although she had once seen her father’s penis when he was peeing in the barn, she had never before seen an erect penis. Norman had been very hard and his glans was a glistening red.

The memory and the conversation affected Gladys as well. There was a twitchy feeling in her crotch and she felt lightheaded. That her panties might have a damp spot was pretty clear too.

Under the table, Gladys put her hand on the top of Norman’s thigh. He lay his hand atop it and moved it up towards his crotch. She took the hint and went further. “You’re just as hard now as you were then. Oh Norm!” She extended her head and opened her lips expectantly. They kissed.

Knowing the discussion about Vernon and Cora’s childlessness was going to be interrupted, he said and she thought, “Shall we go upstairs?”

She said, “Yes!”

On the way up the stair, Norman was already unhitching his overalls and Gladys had her hands under her dress and her thumbs hooked in the waistband of her panties. In the bedroom, she flopped backwards on the bed, raised her hips and pulled her panties down. By the time she had them clear of her ankles, Norman had dropped his overalls and was getting out of his underpants one leg at a time. The sight of his erect penis with its shining reddish head free of the foreskin made her heart beat faster. She felt hot all over and there was a big tingling from her waist down.

The conversation and touching downstairs was foreplay enough for both. Lying back on the bed, Gladys pulled her dress up to her breasts. Now exposed from her waist down, she spread her legs and raised her knees. Norman was immediately on the bed and lay his throbbing penis on her pussy – letting the shaft dab at her wet slit.

Although he knew well enough where he needed to go and knew exactly how to get there, he and Gladys had settled on another routine years ago. Gladys delighted in grasping his penis and guiding him in. Once he was more or less halfway in, she took her hand away and let him set the pace. Today he was really worked up and immediately plunged in as far as ever, which was not all the way groin to groin for good reason. Norman’s penis was a few inches longer than Gladys’ vagina and he had learned early on that he had to limit penetration to avoid hurting her.

Norman was very close to exploding. It wasn’t just the touching and teasing downstairs in the kitchen. Perhaps it was the vibrations while driving the big Farmall tractor all morning. Perhaps he’d just had erotic thoughts. At any rate, Gladys had the feeling he wouldn’t last long and she was right. After a few minutes of Norman’s rapid thrusting, she felt his penis jerk and then she felt his ejaculate shoot against her insides. She closed her eyes, moaned and grasped his ass cheeks – all in what she thought was a pretty good imitation of an orgasm. As long as he believed it real, that’s all that counted. Later when he was back out in the field, she would take a bath and enjoy the real thing.

There was a box of tissues beside the bed. Gladys reached for a handful, wiped her own crotch. That was also part of their routine. He was still between her legs, now on his knees, penis hanging, foreskin covering the glans. She wiped his thighs, scrotum and then his penis, finishing off by retracting his foreskin and dabbing the sticky off his glans.

Who would get up first? Norman solved the problem. “I have to go pee.”

Gladys was glad he had taken the initiative to break off. She needed to continue the discussion they had started right after lunch before they had had their ‘nooner.’

If were not for Gladys, Norman would have avoided continuing the discussion. As much as he was bothered by Vernon and Cora not having produced grandchildren, there were lots of other subjects he would rather be discussing.

“Norm, I didn’t say that Vernon and Cora aren’t having sex. I know they are. Cora confides in me and has since the first year they were married. Look, they’ve tried very hard. Different positions. He leaves it in afterwards, sometimes so long that he gets hard and they do it again.”

“Gladys! Cora tells you all that kind of stuff?”

“Norm, be quiet and listen! The first year they were married, Doc Banning examined her several times, but he never could find any physical reason why she didn’t conceive. Finally he referred her to that university clinic in Champaign. A few hundred dollars later, they said the same thing and something more – that her husband might be the problem. The doctors there told her that he should have a sperm count made.”

“And Vernon masturbated into a jar and took it to Doc Banning?”

“Cora couldn’t bear the thought of asking him to do that so she found another way to get the sample. Started keeping a sample jar by the bedside and with her next period, she used her hand on him. She managed to not let Vern see her wipe her sticky hand across the open jar. Of course she didn’t take the sample to Doc Banning. Those girls who work for him – well it’d be all over the county in a day. She took it to the university clinic. They had a hard time finding any sperm at all, leave alone a low count.”

Norman was devastated. Now it was pretty definite. When Vernon died, people would no longer talk about the ‘Gieriger Farm’. That might be 4 or 5 decades in the future when he, Norman, was dead and buried but that time would come.

“Oh Norm, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about the way it is and I’m sorry to have to tell you.”

Norman was a principled Christian prude and he had the corresponding hyperactive erotic imagination and he and Gladys had a routine for situations when he got horny while she was menstruating. Had she ever wanted a semen sample from him, she would only have had to tell him to close his eyes and then jerk him off and collect the product in a jam jar. He didn’t doubt that Cora might do the same thing.

His mind went back to the farm without a Gieriger grandson to run it. Gladys saw the sad look on his face and wondered whether to continue the conversation immediately or let him stew over it through the afternoon. She decided he might be more receptive to the solution that she had worked out with Cora after a nice supper and then some special treatment in bed or in the bathtub.

That evening after the evening news, Gladys shut off the TV and turned to Norman. “About this afternoon.”

“Gladys, it was great. We haven’t done that after lunch for quite awhile.” Then remembering her moans and clutching, he continued, “Gladys  I could see on your face that it was good for you too.”

“Oh Norm, yes, I really got off.” But she was thinking of her DIY orgasm afterwards when she was alone in the bathtub and he was out plowing. She wasn’t thinking of the ‘orgasm’ she had faked after he ejaculated.

After giving him a quick kiss and squeezing his hand, she went on, “Yes, it was good for me, but I really want to talk about the other thing we started on.”

Norman was dreading that subject but he knew there was no way around it. “Oh, well, okay.” Then in an even sadder tone, “I’ve been praying for Cora to get pregnant for years. But I guess it’s the Lord’s will that Vernon can’t get her that way and we just have to accept that.”

Gladys knew she was going into very slippery territory and she would have to choose her words carefully. “Norm, that Vernon won’t be able to get Cora with child, yes, we have to accept that. But maybe we don’t have to accept that there won’t be a Gieriger to take over the farm from Vernon.”

“You mean adopt a little redskin from Guatemala? No way! Then everybody’d know Vernon was infertile and besides, those beaners are lazy. And didn’t Don Trutsch say they’re all murderers and rapists?”

“Norm, you know perfectly well that you can’t believe a word Don says.”

“Well anyway, those beaners are lazy. It’s true. Half the time they’d never get the crops in or do the milking. No, you could give one of ‘em our name but he’d still be lazy and what self-respecting girl would ever marry him.”

“Norm, I’m not thinking about not adoption. There’s another way.”

“You don’t mean using one of those new sperm bank things? There was this article in Readers Digest. Women get implanted with semen from somebody they don’t even know. Do that, you might get anything! Think of it, Catholics, Yankees, Polacks and what not. We got enough of them here in the county already. Who knows, you might even get a Jew or a Negro. Running this farm? No way. I’d rather see the government take over this farm.”

Although the Protestant church that they belonged to had services nearly as elaborate as the Roman Catholic mass, Norman held Catholics in great disdain. Likewise he didn’t have much use for Yankees, meaning people with names like Patton, Brown, Jones, Wilson, Smith and so forth. For him Yankees were messy people whose farmsteads looked junky - broken down machinery standing around, buildings needing paint. People of Polish descent also lived in the county and he held them in even deeper disregard. Norman was glad they were mostly in an area at the western end of the county and he did his best to avoid having to go there.

“I didn’t say using a sperm bank. Let me finish. After they tested Vernon’s semen at the clinic in Champaign, they mentioned artificial insemination. Cora ruled out using a sperm bank so the discussion turned to getting her pregnant with sperm from a suitable donor. I mean suitable in lots of ways, but particularly that the child would look like he was Vernon’s.”

“And how is that supposed to work? Gladys, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t very well go to somebody we know and ask him for some semen.”

For Gladys the discussion was coming to the point she wanted it to, but she still needed to be cautious. “Norm, I agree that we need to be secretive about this. It really is a matter of keeping this under wraps while finding a suitable donor.”

“I have no idea how we can ask somebody without everybody finding out. Ask one person and bingo, the whole county knows. And who would the donor be anyway. We can’t go driving around looking for a guy who looks like Vernon.”

“Actually we wouldn’t have to drive around looking. Norm, Vernon looks a lot like you and vice versa. Cora and I think you’d be the ideal donor.”

Norman and Vernon used artificial insemination to breed their Holstein dairy cows so immediately, he was thinking along those lines. “So you two expect me to go to that clinic in Champaign and deposit some semen in an artificial vagina? And then Cora is supposed to go there at the right time of the month? By the way, what does Vernon say about these human husbandry plans?”

Now the discussion was getting critical. But Norman hadn’t yet actually said no. “Okay, one thing at a time. We don’t see a reason to tell Vernon. The blood types would work out okay and why not let him think he’s actually the father.”

“And he’s not going to get suspicious about a bunch of trips to Champaign?”

“She wouldn’t have to go to the clinic. The doctor there showed her a sort of do-it-yourself AI kit. Cora and I talked about that too and then we got to thinking. Why go through such a complicated procedure? Getting pregnant is pretty simple. Lots of pregnancies are not even planned.”

“Gladys, no! You don’t mean that I have intercourse with my stepdaughter? No, no way!”

There’s a point in any argument when it’s time to get tough. (Know when to walk.) Gladys was ready with Norman’s own words.

“Okay Norm, you’re the one who doesn’t want the farm to be out of the Gieriger name. Now think a little. Remember there are Catholics who have money too. You wanna have a Catholic buy the farm after Vernon is gone? Every Friday the house is gonna stink of fish and there’ll be pictures of the pope in every room. Or maybe a Yankee? You think the barn would ever get painted again? Imagine neighbors driving by and talking about how nice the farm used to look when it was the Gieriger farm. Or say a Polack bought it. Then people are gonna say, ‘old Norm must be turning over in his grave, not just a Polack’s got his farm, a Catholic too.’ Is that what you want?”

Norman could only look straight ahead. Actually the thought of sex with Cora didn’t disgust him. It was just that, well, what if he couldn’t get it up? Sure he and Gladys still did it, once a week at least, but that was when he got horny. Just to up and have intercourse on command, he was anything but sure he could do it.

Norman and Gladys were religious and went to church every Sunday and on all Christian holidays. Their religiousness provided an opportunity for him to stall. “There’s the Tenth Commandment and it’s pretty definite.”

“The Tenth Commandment says ‘Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife’. Cora is your daughter-in-law, not your neighbor’s wife. Besides Norm, you won’t be coveting Cora, just breeding her.”

“And how about the Sixth Commandment? It says ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery’.”

“Remember that sermon Pastor Heuchler made? The one where he said God didn’t define what adultery is. Well he also said that God left it up to the church to decide what is adultery. Surely you remember that.”

“Yeah but..……”

“Pastor Heuchler has never said that breeding your daughter-in-law was adultery and for all we know, neither has any other pastor. So there!”

“Well I still don’t know. It still sounds pretty sinful.”

“Norm, back to the 10th commandment. ‘Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house, nor his barn, etc.. For years you were coveting Leonard Kleinbauer’s 100 acres!”

“Leonard wasn’t really our neighbor and he wasn’t much of a farmer! It was only a matter of time until he had to sell out. I just got there before everybody else.”

“Okay, you weren’t coveting Leonard’s farm, you were just watching him go broke and get forced to sell. When you breed Cora, it won’t be coveting any neighbor’s wife either. It’ll just be taking your son’s place in getting her with child. Kinda like pinch hitting. You do that all the time for Vernon. He’s taken over the dairy operation but there’s always times when you do the milking for him.”

Norman couldn’t argue with her faultless logic. Besides Cora wasn’t a bad looking woman – dark brown hair, curls, medium breasts, rosy cheeks, slight overbite, dark brown eyes. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Yeah maybe not. How it might be going in and out of her went through his mind and that brought on some swelling in his crotch.

Later when they were in bed, Norman felt the need to level with Gladys about his real misgivings. “Gladys, what if I can’t, well you know. It can happen.”

 “You mean get an erection? You’ll be okay and even if you don’t, I have ways to fix things. You know that.”

There had been occasions over the years when one or the other wanted sex and then either he couldn’t get it up or his penis had gone flaccid. Although she was a sexual conservative like Norman, Gladys had somehow figured out how to remedy that situation. She would take his soft penis by the shaft and with the thumb and forefinger of her other hand roll back his foreskin. That never failed to bring the first twitch to his crotch. Her finger circling the rim always brought a surge of blood to fill him out enough so that she could masturbate him to full erection.

Somehow it had never occurred to him to question where she had learnt that technique. When they were dating and before they had had actual intercourse, she had often masturbated him to orgasm. However, back then he was always rock hard before he even got his trousers down. Could it be that massaging a soft penis to hardness was something she had learned elsewhere?

Then he felt her hand go into his pajama bottom. “Gladys, remind me of how you fix things.” Then he got completely hard and they had intercourse for the second time that day. Twice in one day! Neither could begin to remember the last time that had happened.

The next morning:

As usual, Vernon got up well before Cora and without breakfast or even coffee, went out to the barn and did the milking. Around eight when he finished milking and his other morning chores, Cora had breakfast ready.

“You gonna be disking that where Dad plowed yesterday?”

 “Yeah. We wanna get that done this morning. Looks like rain later today. Should get it by lunch.”

As soon as Vernon left, Cora looked out the kitchen window to see if Norman had already left for the fields. As soon as she saw the big red and white Farmall 560 out in the field working, she got on the phone. Gladys answered on the first ring.

“I was just about to call you.”

 “Well?”

 “It wasn’t easy but I think he’s really okay with it now. Cora, you’re sure you want to do it this way?”

“It’s the only way. Using the clinic, no way. It’s too risky. Vernon simply cannot find out.”

“How’s your calendar look?”

“Next week Tuesday should be the big ‘O’ day. We could start on Sunday but that’d be awkward unless Vernon has to go somewhere. Monday for sure unless it rains and there’s no fieldwork.”

“We just gotta wait and see. Look even it rains, Vernon might need to go into Samsford and get feed or something.”

Sunday:

This Sunday was typical. Both families went in one car to church and afterwards had lunch together. This week Gladys made the Sunday meal - fried chicken and mashed potatoes. After the meal, Norman and Vernon discussed the week ahead of them. The rain expected in the past week hadn’t amounted to much so the ground was still pretty dry. They decided they’d wait for rain before beginning with planting corn and soybeans. Just get everything plowed and disked. After the next rain, get out with the spring harrow as soon as the ground was dry enough.

Gladys and Cora had a planning session as well. Vernon would be disking on Monday. If Norman wasn’t done plowing they’d just have to figure out a reason for him to come in to the house.

Monday:

Over a very early breakfast, Gladys told Norman about the schedule. Just in case Vernon were to ask why he was going back to the house early, he should be prepared with some kind of excuse. They just couldn’t have Vernon pop into the house at the wrong time and interrupt the breeding process.

Norman was glad that Gladys had made him see more clearly around the coveting and adultery issues. Now he had a completely clear conscience about servicing his daughter-in-law. However, that wasn’t the only reason for his high spirits. He was experiencing a pleasing anticipatory nervousness,  a lot like he’d last had when dating Gladys. Also, plowing, disking, harrowing are repetitive and lend to thoughts and daydreams of all kinds. That morning, his penis went to half erect and fully erect a number of times.

With a good operator on the big powerful 560 and a 5 bottom plow, 4 acres an hour is in the cards. Norman was a good operator and today he wanted to get that last 30 acres of spring plowing done as early as possible. Starting at 6 AM, a short lunch and no breaks, he was driving back to the house before two that afternoon. He knew Vernon had another couple hours of disking.

Tipped off by Norman at lunch, Gladys had called Cora to tell her to be ready anytime. When she saw the big 560 on the way back to the house, she called Cora. “Norm’s done plowing. You might wanna get over here before too long.”

He parked by the garage where there was a hose. After giving the plow a rushed shower, he headed for the house. Opening the screen door to the back porch, he noticed that his legs were tense, almost trembling.

In the kitchen, the two women were sitting at the table. Gladys gave him a quick reassuring smile. Cora gave him a quick look to acknowledge his entry and then looked back down at the table. Norman wondered if the breeding was going to take place. His half erection shrunk to nothing.

“Look Cora, I know that you and Gladys have talked this all out. But if you’re not sure? I just don’t want to force this on you.”

“I’m sure. It’s just that, well it’s just that I’ve never done this before – I mean have sex with anyone else – Vernon and I waited until our wedding night.” Actually the ‘anyone else’ part was a lie. However, she and Vernon ‘waiting until their wedding night’ was true. She hadn’t had sex with Vernon until their wedding night but there had been Charlie. Yes Charlie, her first love.

Before dating Vernon, she had gone steady with Charlie Dalman for nearly a year and a half. Some months after they broke up, Vernon had asked her out and they began dating. At the beginning Norman and Gladys had had some major misgivings about Vernon’s new girlfriend, whose reputation they felt had been tainted by having gone steady with Charlie.

What was wrong with Charlie? In Norman and Gladys’ minds, lots. First and foremost he wasn’t a member of their church and his father, now deceased, had been a lowly truck driver and a drinker. Furthermore, before Cora, Charlie had gone with several girls, each long enough that there had been gossip - gossip that they were doing it.

In the end, they had accepted Cora. After all she was a member of their church and she attended services with her family every Sunday. Her wholesome personality and good manners convinced them that she would never have so much as let Charlie even touch her breasts. Instrumental in Norman and Gladys’ acceptance of Cora may have also been the 280 acres of rich black pond ground that was her father’s farm and which Cora as an only child would inherit 100%.

Gladys, the mover in this breeding affair, knew she had to get things moving before either Cora or Norman chickened out. “We’ve all agreed this is the right thing to do. Let’s not get cold feet now. It’s only a few steps to the laundry room and I know we’ll feel better once we get started.” That she and Cora had selected the laundry room had to do with how they thought the actual breeding act should be carried out. She took Cora’s hand and after both got up, she took Norman by the other hand. Gladys leading, the three holding hands walked the few steps to the laundry room.

Norman, rather conventional in matters of sex, had wondered why the women had chosen the laundry room. Wasn’t sex normally done in a bedroom? Inside the laundry room the table that Gladys used for folding clothes caught his eye. It was covered with a big towel and there appeared to be padding of some sort. Had the two women decided that they were going to do it on the table? His answer came soon enough.

Cora went over to the table, pulled off her shoes and in one smooth movement slid her jeans and panties down to her ankles. Hopping up to sit on the end of the table, she tossed them away completely and spread her knees. Seeing Cora’s swatch of brown pubic hair made his heart skip a few beats. Did she do that to show him the target? Or to show him she was ready? Or both?

Then it became clear to him why they were in the laundry room and not in the bedroom. He was to remain standing. The table would be just about the right height for that. Clearly Gladys and Cora planned on this being an act of breeding and breeding alone, not an act of passion. He also realized something else. His penis was about as soft and lifeless as a wet noodle.

Cora looked at him with nervous expectancy. Gladys tilted her head a bit and gave him a brave smile. “Norm honey, you need to drop your overalls. And your underpants. Here I’ll help.” He would have rather delayed until he was at least a little erect but Gladys was too fast. Before he could utter a word of hesitation, there he stood – an image of his worst apprehensions – fully exposed to Cora with his penis hanging down. For some reason she didn’t seem surprised or disappointed, just a that’s-the-way-it-is look on her face. Had Gladys warned her that this might happen?

Ever the master of ceremonies, Gladys took charge. She took his arm. “Come on Norm, we’re going to get through this.” He didn’t resist her pull as he hobbled – with his overalls and underpants still around his ankles – to the table. Cora opened her legs further and wrapped her arms around her knees to pull them up, at the same time Gladys was nudging him in closer and closer. Then he felt her holding his shaft while she used her thumb and forefinger to slide his foreskin back. As in her normal routine for getting him hard, she ran her finger around the rim of his glans, but not before she had wet it in Cora’s slit.

Her special way was having effect. His penis was swelling. Still he wasn’t fully hard and Gladys knew that it would have to be fully hard to penetrate Cora whom she had just determined wasn’t nearly wet enough. She needed to do something that she’d only done once before with Norman. Down on her knees and still holding his foreskin back, she kissed the head of his penis before taking it into her mouth. Sucking lightly and generating lots of saliva, she got the result she was after.

However, she almost overdid it. She was so into the sensation of his penis getting harder and harder in her mouth that she failed to notice his shortened breaths. “Gladys, Gladys don’t, it’s enough, I’m almost ….., please.”

She got up, her hand still on his now hardened shaft. Between her rapid shallow breaths, “Cora are you ready?”

The sight of Gladys giving Norman head, hadn’t gone without effect. Her answer came in between two short breaths. “Yes, I’m ready too.”

Norman was ready to plunge in and would have if it hadn’t been for Gladys’ hand still being on his shaft. She was still in charge and to prove it she guided him to Cora, first working the head of his penis up and down along Cora’s labia.

On each upstroke, the head tapping Cora’s clitoris sent tingles from there up her belly. Each time she had to gasp. This had not been Gladys’ idea. Cora had told her that Vernon did it and that it really made her hot. That Vernon did it was a lie. That it made her hot was true. She had learned this pleasure from Charlie.

Now it wasn’t Charlie doing it. It was Gladys doing it with Norman’s penis. The effect was the same and Gladys did notice that. “Cora, are you ….?”

Cora couldn’t say a word. She answered by pulling her knees even closer to her chest and reclining on the table. Gladys moved Norman’s penis down to the vagina and then lost control of the situation as he plunged in. Cora’s shriek told him he’d hit her cervix and he backed out. “Oh sorry Cora, I didn’t want to hurt you. Is it still okay?”

“Yes but let me first ….” She shifted her position. Sitting up and supporting her upper body on her arms, her knees went further away from her chest. This would make it harder for him to over penetrate. Something else she’d learned from Charlie.

Norman didn’t last long. When the muscles in his buttocks started clenching, Gladys was ready with a towel to intercept the overflow. No need to have his overalls and underpants get smeary.

Cora was again on her back, clutching her lower legs to put her hips well off the table top. This was one thing she hadn’t learned from Charlie. It was one of the techniques in a number of the fertility books that she’d started reading when she realized that getting pregnant was going to be difficult.

Still on her back she saw Gladys at the utility sink dampening the end of the towel. She was going to clean him up. And that is what she did. First wiping his thighs, scrotum and penis with the wet end, then drying him. While she rinsed the towel, Norman pulled up his underpants and overalls.

The breeding was over. Well not really. They had agreed that the chances of pregnancy would be vastly improved if they repeated at least once a day over the next three days. Norman left first. He needed to finish washing off the plow and tractor. Cora and Gladys decided that the next session would be the next morning while Vernon was busy doing the milking.

Back in her own house, Cora decided she needed to relax in a hot bath. Laying back in the hot water, she reminded herself that what she had done with her father-in-law was a perfectly natural thing, unusual and bizarre, but actually natural. Wanting to keep a farm in the family name, yeah perfectly natural. But still, “My God, I just fucked my father-in-law!” In spite of the hot water, a cold chill went through her. “And I’m going to fuck him again tomorrow morning!”

Then she fell back into reminiscing, something she often did when she wanted to shut out the present.

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Charlie:

He had caught her eye not long after she started high school. A fairly good looking guy, brown hair, crew cut, strongly built, around 6 feet and a second string basketballer, he just seemed not to notice her lingering glances. By the time he was a senior, she had nearly given up hope. But then one day in mid-winter she had gone to the school library in search of reference material for a history paper. There was Charlie sitting at one of the long tables with his nose buried in a National Geographic World Atlas map - of Southeast Asia as he had explained to her later. She made a point to browse books in the shelves opposite of where he was sitting and on the lower shelves so she’d have to bend over, thus pulling her skirt tight over her rear end.

Each time she glanced at him, a tingling sensation hit her in the gut. At one point she must have gazed at him for too long because he seemed to feel it and looked up. She would never forget the smile and the wink he gave her. Not a lecherous smile as lots of high school guys were prone to give. No, Charlie’s smile was a gentle and caring smile.

There had been quick whispered introductions and then he had had to leave for a math class. That night as she lay in bed, she couldn’t resist reaching down and putting her hand into her pajama bottoms. She refused to admit it to herself but it would be only a matter of time.

Dale Furzman ran a Sinclair filling station with a limited service garage – one of those places where people went for tires, mufflers, shocks, windshield wipers and that sort of thing. At some point he realized that it’d be worthwhile to sell gas after hours so he hired some high school boys to take turns attending it in the evening. Being the only place in Samsford to get gas afterhours, profit from the night operation more than covered the below-minimum wage he paid the evening attendant.

The teens who worked there were happy with the low wage because, after all it wasn’t hard work and they had plenty of time between customers to do homework or just shoot the shit with friends who happened by. Over time the Sinclair Station became Samsford’s primary hangout and meeting place for teenagers and young adults. At first Dale was worried that the crowd would scare off customers and he made up his mind to run off the socializers. When he told his wife what he intended to do, she told him how foolish that would be. After all, anybody wanting to hold up the station might change his or her mind if there happened to be a half dozen young muscular farm boys hanging around.

It was on a weekday night after their church youth league meeting that Cora and two girlfriends decided to drop by the station and socialize a bit. By chance, Charlie had happened to be there working out geometry problems with Henry, the gas jockey of the evening. What happened afterwards was a dreamlike course of events that she could only approximately reconstruct.

Dennis Deppbauer had pulled in with his new (relatively) Pontiac hardtop and everybody went out to admire it. Of course Dennis was only too happy to oblige everyone with a ride and pretty soon there was talk of setting a new record for number of people crammed into a two-door hardtop. And just like that, Cora and Charlie, deep in a get-to-know-one-another conversation, found themselves alone inside the Sinclair station with Henry. Then before Dennis and his riders returned, Karen Immerverloren, alone in her parents Ford Galaxie sedan pulled up to the gas pumps. Henry, having had the hots for Karen for longer than he cared to remember, disappeared out the door. Even if he had to tank up her car for free, he was going to get some time in with her.

“Charlie, where did everybody go?”

“Everybody except Henry is out record setting. He’s outside trying to impress Karen.”

“Let’s play a joke on Henry.”

“How you wanna do that? He never gets a joke.” (Henry was a geek before anyone had heard of the word geek.)

She pointed towards the door to the warehouse/storage room that was in the back of the station. “We hide back in there and let him wonder where we disappeared to. I promise I won’t giggle and give us away. Come on Charlie, it’ll be such fun!”

She couldn’t remember exactly what she thought might happen, if anything. However, the prudish side of her brain liked to think that they would just go in the storeroom and hide near the door. It turned out though that Charlie wanted to really hide from Henry and he led her further back – so far that from the door that they wouldn’t be seen, even by somebody who came in and turned on the lights.

When they got to a place between the tire racks and some big cartons, he turned her to face him. That was their first kiss and her very first kiss with a boy. At first she didn’t quite know what to do. Her only experience with kissing was what she had seen in movies. It took her some time to respond to the pulsating massage that his full and soft lips performed on hers. She had no sooner responded in kind when she felt his tongue, first between her lips and then in her mouth. The tingle in her gut that she had felt that day in the library and when she saw him up front in the station was now spreading up towards her breasts and down to her crotch. She freed her tongue, first to taste his tongue and then to explore his mouth. Her head felt light, her body was on fire. Her dreams were being answered. She didn’t really take note of his hand pressing on her butt. What she did notice though was the hard protrusion poking against her belly.

A farm girl, she knew exactly what it took to make babies. After all she had seen cows, pigs, dogs, cats copulating. But somehow Protestant prudishness didn’t allow her to fully imagine how it worked with people. In high school physical education, Mrs. Moriarty had given sex education, complete with poster size illustrations – showing ovulation, menstruation, pregnancy and birthing. But like in ‘The Making of Me’ at Epcot, Mrs. Moriarty had studiously avoided showing the source of those millions of little sperm cells and how they got into position to travel up the vagina and connect with the egg. Neither had her mother, who mostly just told her what to expect from menstruation and that it had something to do with making babies. Her mother’s talks about sex and erotic had been for the most part ‘don’t let a boy feel your breasts’ and ‘God forbid that a boy should ever touch you down there.’

She wondered if he would feel and touch. Then she realized she wanted him to. Without her asking, he obliged, first on the outside of her blouse, then inside of it. Soon her bra was pushed aside and his firm beautiful hands were caressing her breasts, then he teasingly pinched her nipples. Her whole chest felt hot and tingling. The hand that had been on her butt, she now felt it move around to the front of her hip and down on her leg to the inside of her thigh. The hot tingling of her chest now expanded to her abdomen and crotch.

Both their lips were wide apart, they were wildly exploring one another’s mouths. She wriggled with pleasure, wondering where this would lead, sort of knowing but not really believing. Then he was touching her ‘down there’ and she loved it, wondering all the same if he could feel her wetness through her jeans. That became a mute point when his hand slid inside the waist of her jeans and even inside her panties. His hand was in her pubic hair, then she felt a finger in her slit. When he found her magic button, her panting whimpers told him that it was all up to him.

She herself undid the waist button and unzipped her jeans and they fell to somewhere around her mid-thighs. With more space to work, his attentions to her slit became more and more adventurous. She felt one of his fingers as it found the entrance to her vagina, at the same time he was still stimulating her magic button. It didn’t occur to her then – and not until much later – how skilled he was. She was living in the present state of pleasure and loving everything that Charlie did.

She wasn’t really conscious of how it happened. One second her hand was around his back, the next it was on his front feeling a long cylindrical mass on his jeans – the protrusion that she had felt poking at her belly. Although shocked, her curiosity was stronger than her shock. And besides his hand was keeping hers there, all the while showing her what to do. Cora knew she should stop now, should have stopped when things progressed beyond the kiss. But after weeks of fantasizing over being Charlie Dalman’s girlfriend, she wasn’t about to spoil things now, even if her emotions would have allowed it. She even rationalized he couldn’t steal her virginity with his finger and his penis was still safe in his pants.

She thought to make at least a pro forma motion to stop or at least slow things down. Then breaking off the kiss: “Charlie, we shouldn’t. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

To her surprise and hidden disappointment, he stopped restraining her hand against his penis and he stopped fingering her. Was it over? He kept his hands on her hips just above the waistband of her panties as he moved away from her. Holding her at arms length, he looked her over up and down, noticeably hesitating when his eyes fell to below her waist. The storeroom wasn’t completely dark because it had windows and some diffused light came in from the security lighting outside.

“Cora, you’re so lovely, I love to look at you.”

“Oh Charlie, I love looking at you too.”

She felt his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and then her panties were sliding down to join her jeans, which were hung up at her knees. “Charlie, you shouldn’t see me down there!”

“You’re beautiful, Cora. I love looking at you. It’d be silly to hide something so pretty.” Then he gave the soft brown patch of hair a fleeting kiss. Holding her close, there lips again met. Open mouthed, their tongues intertwined.

He stopped long enough to whisper in her ear. “Cora would you like to see me too?”

“Only if you want me to.”

Breaking off the embrace, he unbuckled, unzipped and tugged his jeans and briefs to his knees. “Look at me Cora.”

The only penis’ she had ever seen had belonged to some small boy cousins. Now she was looking at the fully erect member of a fully grown young adult. She tried to hide her shock but her gasp was too loud and her shudder too strong. He noticed. “Cora, is this okay for you?”

She hadn’t meant to say what she said. It had just slipped out. “You’re so big. And I’m so small.”

To Charlie, she had just answered ‘yes’ to the question that he hadn’t actually asked. He guided her over to one of the big cartons and sat her down. On his knees, he pulled off her white buck shoes and freed her of her jeans and panties. Another pro forma protest. “Charlie, really we shouldn’t. I’ve never…..”

“I’ll be gentle, Cora. You know I could never hurt you.”

“Yes, but……” He scooted her further onto the box and got himself between her legs. She felt his penis wallowing between her labia, then it was at her entrance pushing. It did hurt. He had his penis in his hand and worked it around as if to gain the best angle of attack. A jolt of pleasure hit her when his finger again found her magic button. Then came that instant of pain followed by a satisfying feeling of gradually being filled.

That night initiated their going steady for over a year and a half.

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Even now after years of marriage to Vernon, hardly a day went by that she didn’t have at least fleeting thoughts about Charlie. When she was among friends, mere mention of the name ‘Charlie Dalman’ made her ears perk up and strain to catch the news. But there wasn’t much news about Charlie. His siblings had moved out of state and his widowed mother kept mostly to herself. After a very promising first two years at U of I, he had dropped out and enlisted in the Army. Everyone knew his dropping out was connected with their breaking up, but only Cora and her parents knew any of the details. In the Army too, something went haywire. He had been in Officer Candidate School, a few months shy of graduation and a second lieutenant’s commission. Then suddenly he was in Viet Nam. No one knew the details on that. People even wondered if Charlie’s mother knew.

“Oh dear Charlie, where are you now?”

At that moment Charlie was not thinking of Cora. He had lots of other stuff on his mind - like keeping himself and his 27 grunts alive for another day. He was 8,900 miles away and it was 4 AM Tuesday morning. After a couple hours of sleep on wet ground wrapped in his poncho, his RTO shook him awake. They had been inserted the previous afternoon, over 10 miles from the mountain top where the first and second platoons of B company were in deep shit and crying for help. Low cloud and fog had kept the choppers from taking them any further up the Nha Trang River Valley. Today would be a 10 mile death march – hopefully figuratively, not literally.

In between operations, Charlie did think of Cora, albeit with time, less and less frequently. And when he did, the memories of their times together no longer gave him a hard on. What stuck out was the day her father told him it was over and he shouldn’t come around anymore.

At first her parents had been dismayed by their daughter going with a Yankee whose father was a known Democrat who’d voted for Truman and Stevenson. But thinking that Cora would soon see the light and the affair would blow over, her parents had gritted their teeth and tolerated it. However, before too much time went by, they started seeing that Charlie was a hard worker and anything but a delinquent. That and his cunning way of showing interest in their church had won them over. Before the summer was out, her father offered to loan him money for college.

Their patience had begun to run thin during Charlie’s sophomore year at U of I. He still hadn’t taken any real steps towards becoming a member of their church and Cora’s mother had heard some gossip about Charlie and previous girlfriends. Checking out the gossip with some reliable sources, namely some mothers in the same church, she found out that Charlie had over the years tantalized a couple of girls and their families with his interest in converting. The really bad thing though was that Charlie had managed to destroy these girls’ hymens without ever setting foot in the church.

All that led to her parents to look deeper and ask more questions. They found out that he had a habit of challenging teachers. In English literature he asked some really nasty questions when it came to questions of faith. In history and civics classes, he had spoken up, defending some of the stuff that Roosevelt had done and had even spoken out in favor of Truman’s plan for a single payer sickness insurance. Convinced that he was a socialist at best and a communist at worst, they had confronted him. Their worst fears were confirmed when Charlie quoted Mathew 8:1 to 8:7 and then made the heretical claim that Jesus had healed people without looking at what race they were or asking whether they had a job, insurance or money. That’s when Cora’s parents knew for sure that he was an atheist and a communist.

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Tuesday:

On most mornings Cora dozed for a half hour or so after Vernon left the house to do the milking. On this morning, she got up as soon as she heard the back door close. By the time she got dressed and went to the kitchen, she could see the lights on in the milking parlor. He would be busy there for at least an hour and a half. That would be more than enough time, depending on how long Norman would take to get hard. Maybe it would go quicker if they did it alone in bed. But no, that just wouldn’t be fair to Gladys. On the other hand, maybe today she could help Gladys with getting him hard.

Norman and Gladys’ house was dark and in her sleep numbed mind, she thought maybe they were still asleep. Then it occurred to her that they wouldn’t want to turn on the lights so unusually early and attract Vernon’s attention.

Sure enough, she needed to knock only once and Gladys opened the door.

“We thought if we turned on the lights, Vern might think something was wrong and come to see. You want a cup of coffee first?”

In the kitchen, Norman, still in his night shirt, was leaning against the kitchen counter sipping coffee. Gladys poured Cora a cup and then picked up her own. Conversation was limited to ‘good mornings’ and ‘ummm, coffee is sure good.’ Gladys broke the conversational impasse. “We’ll use the laundry room again. It seemed to be fine yesterday. Oh, and I’ve got some Vaseline there too so things ought to go really smoothly today.”

Without looking up, Norman mumbled agreement.

Cora had a ‘what the hell’ thought. “Yeah, I think Vaseline is a really good idea. I know Norm was able to get in me okay yesterday, but I was tense at first. It might just be that if his penis were all slicked up, I wouldn’t have that tension. It might help too if I could help you put the Vaseline on Norm’s penis. You wouldn’t mind, would you Gladys?”

Surprised by Cora’s reply, Gladys didn’t know what to say.

“Gladys?”

Now recovered from her surprise, “Oh no, no of course I won’t mind, I think that’d be just fine. Oh by the way, Cora, you will remember to do it with Vern tonight or at least tomorrow, won’t you?”

“No problem. I told him yesterday that my O days were now.” Then she lied, “We did it last night already.” In fact, she had told him over supper, but after watching the evening news on TV, he had started griping about the war that Kennedy and Johnson had started and thereby caused him to have to join the National Guard and go to meetings one weekend every month. In spite of her trying every trick she in the book, Vernon’s bad mood had led to a night without intercourse.

In the laundry room, things moved faster than on the previous day. Cora was opening her jeans before she even got to the table. By the time she got them off and had set herself on the table, Norman, completely naked, was standing a few feet from her. She couldn’t help but see that like on the day before, he was not erect. It flashed through her mind that Charlie had never been able to not get hard when he saw her naked – in fact Charlie often got hard when both were fully clothed.

Gladys, having fetched the Vaseline and a towel from one of the cupboards, came over to them. “Well Cora, let’s do this as a team. One retracts Norm’s foreskin and the other puts on the Vaseline. Norm step closer to the table. Your choice Cora. You wanna be the oiler or the helper?”

In answer, Cora reached for Norman’s penis and backhanded, neatly retracted his foreskin - so neatly and smoothly that Gladys couldn’t help thinking that she must do this with Vernon too. Gladys started with a dab on his glans and with one finger worked it first around the rim and then all over his glans. Norman began to respond. Cora adjusted her grip on Norman’s shaft and dipped a finger into the Vaseline as well. “I think we should lube it all over.” Norman murmured assent, Gladys’ smile was ‘yes’ enough for Cora. Both women continued their ministrations even after Norman’s penis had gotten fully hard.

Norman was under the impression that they fully enjoyed giving him the lube job. Although he did too, he didn’t want to get sidetracked. “Ahem, Gladys, Cora, ahem, we should maybe get started before ……”

Cora let go and hopped onto the end of the table, Gladys put her hand around his shaft and squeezed lightly. Norman responded with a word of caution, “Careful Gladys, wait till I’m inside!” Cora grasped her widespread knees and lay back on the table. Gladys’ hand was still around his shaft as he entered Cora.

As Norman got to pumping away, Gladys lost her grip and was momentarily a bystander, a role she was not content with. From the back she reached through his crotch to fondle his testicles. Cora noticed. Between pants and gasps, “Gladys how about me?”

“What?”

“My, ahem, you know, at the top. I want to, you know, .. too.”

Gladys, not one for multi-tasking, let go of Norman’s testicles and moved to where she could massage Cora’s clitoris. Norman was well on his way and went off before Gladys could get Cora that far. When he pulled out, Cora again made her need known. “Gladys, Gladys don’t stop, please.” Gladys intensified her efforts and let up only after Cora’s scream and clenching of the towel.

Cora lay back on the table and let her legs droop over the end of the table, knees slightly apart.

“Cora, you need to lay back with your knees up – remember we read about that.”

“Yeah right, I forgot. Boy was that intense. Whew! Didn’t we read too that an orgasm would help too?” Then seeing Gladys’ grin, she realized how that might sound, “I mean an orgasm on my part.”

“Yeah right, on your part too.” Then taking Norman’s flaccid and slimy member in her hand, “That Norm had an orgasm goes without saying. Anyway you can keep laying there while I get him cleaned up.”

The breeding session that afternoon was pretty much a repetition of the morning session – Cora on the table, Norman standing, penis well lubed with Vaseline, Gladys guiding him in. In fact the afternoon session went even better than the morning session. Norman had been almost fully erect when he dropped his overalls and undershorts and by the time Gladys approached with the Vaseline jar, his erection had been complete, glans exposed and shining red.

As Cora was leaving, Gladys reminded her of the necessity of having sex with Vernon that night.

That evening Cora delayed supper so they’d miss at least part of the TV evening news. (There was always some news of Viet Nam to remind Vernon of how the war was inconveniencing him.) Earlier she had bathed and put on a summer dress with a low neckline. Cora wasn’t massively breasted but she had enough to put on a display of cleavage and fondling her breasts was an integral part of Vernon’s foreplay routine – in fact it had occurred to her that he fondled her breasts a lot more than he played with her down below.

The bottom line was that they would absolutely have to have intercourse at least once between that night and the next couple of days. Otherwise if she got pregnant from Norman, Vernon might just remember that he couldn’t have been the one who shot the silver bullet. And the sooner they did it, the better because then the pressure would be off her. She took extra care in cooking and setting the table. In the movies flowers and candlelight would be part of the scene, but this was in the corn belt, not in Hollywood or New York.

Delaying supper meant that Vernon had time to shower and put on clean clothes before supper and that had a benefit as well – the smell of a dairy barn isn’t very erotic. Supper went well, he even complimented her and kissed her on the cheek afterwards. “Cora darling, we’ve missed the news but actually it doesn’t matter. We can’t change things anyway. And speaking of changing things, why don’t we sit down in the living room together. Didn’t you say this is the right time to make the baby?”

Cora was thrilled that things were going to work out right. Maybe they’d even do it on the couch or the living room floor. But Cora had forgotten one little detail – she’d left the newspaper lie on the coffee table. Clearly visible was a headline about some battle or other.

Vernon didn’t normally swear but there was one thing that could get him worked up enough to swear. “Those damn war mongering Democrats! When Dad was my age it was that Communist Jew Roosevelt who got us in to it. Grandpa had to buy, I don’t know how many cows he had to buy to make the herd big enough so Dad could keep his 2-C deferment. That was tough enough but now that they don’t have farm deferments any more, I’ve got to go to guard meetings every month.  What a complete waste of time! It’s sad. It’s pathetic. It’s true.”

“Vern honey, the Second World War is in the past. It’s all over.”

But he wasn’t done giving his history lesson. “Well that Jew Roosevelt finally died but then we got Truman and what’d he do? He started the Korean War. And why? To please the unions who always want more money for less work. Now we got that slimy Texan and I’ve got to go to Guard meetings.

“Honey, at least you’re safe here at home and it’s only two days a month.” Then thinking of Charlie, “There’s lots of unlucky guys who get drafted or enlist and have to spend a year over there – if they don’t get killed first.”

“You mean like that stupid Charlie Dalman who enlisted.”

Vernon was still jealous of Charlie. He’d seen Cora and Charlie together, holding hands, she gazing up at him, her eyes radiating admiration and happiness. Just the thought of them necking and kissing made his stomach turn and he had had to work hard at putting that out of his mind. It had even occurred to him that they might have petted, but he was convinced that they hadn’t gone all the way. He wouldn’t have married her if he had thought she had let him do that. No, no way would he have married her if he’d thought that she had let Charlie screw her - even if her father did own 280 acres of rich black dirt and she had no siblings to share the inheritance with. No, he was sure that at least she hadn’t let that Democrat son-of-a-bitch Charlie fuck her. Why before he and Cora were married, she hadn’t even let him touch her breasts and on their wedding night, he had had a hard time getting it in.

Cora was getting concerned. He was becoming more and more wound up - just like on the day before and the chance of him fucking her that night was getting slimmer by the minute. “Vern honey, I know how you hate those guard weekends but it’s only two days a month and I don’t have to worry that I might lose you altogether.”

“Well maybe you’re right. But still.”

For Cora, things were now looking up a little and she needed to ease into some other subject. Trouble was, she wasn’t interested in very much outside of farming and house keeping. “You said that during the war, your granddad had to buy up so many cows so your dad wouldn’t be drafted. That actually sounds like it was a good thing cause they’d just have that much more milk to sell.”

“It was at first. But pretty soon everybody else had the same idea and there weren’t any more milking cows for sale. So there’d be enough cows in the barn when the draft board sent inspectors, Granddad had to buy a bunch of old barren cows.”

“Were the inspectors that stupid. All they had to do was look at the udders and they’d have seen the cows were dry.”

“Granddad knew that. He and Dad used a big hypodermic needle and pumped air in the udders so they’d look like they were lactating – or at least were able to.”

“So they had to feed cows that didn’t give milk. What a waste.” She remembered one of Charlie’s stories. His dad had been a waist gunner in a B-24 in the 8th Air Force. Although the U.S. forces usually had plenty of food, the locals in Britain didn’t. Charlie’s dad had seen housewives and kids scavenging from the air corps garbage bins.

“At least back then farmers got good prices for everything. Dad said they got a dollar a bushel for corn in 44’ and ’45. Now 20+ years later and 200% inflation, we get one twenty and they don’t give deferments to farmer’s sons. Hey you know what I heard the other day? You know what LBJ stands for? Low bellied jackass. Haw, haw, haw. Boy that’s a good one isn’t it?”

Cora thought it was only sort of funny but she really needed to get fucked that night and she knew that that wouldn’t happen if she didn’t get him out of his foul mood. She forced a laugh, even giggled. Unable to think of anything funny to say in response, she inched closer to him on the couch and close up, gave him an infatuated I’m-fuckable-tonight look. Running her fingers up and down his cheek seemed to mellow him out even more so she followed up by smothering him with kisses and ego boosting whisperings. Now that she had his full attention, she reached out with one foot and kicked the offending newspaper to the other side of the coffee table. Continuing the kissing, she rubbed her breasts against his chest and placed a hand on his upper thigh - close enough to his crotch that he would have no doubt of what she was after. (Dating Charlie for a year and a half hadn’t gone without Cora learning some valuable lessons.)

Once she felt his hand fondling her breast she moved her own hand up and through his jeans, felt the end of his now hardening penis. Not too much later, they did it on the couch. Cora knew she’d have a stain to remove but that was a small price to pay for getting Vernon to fuck her that night.

Wednesday:

The next morning after Vernon had gone out to do the milking, Cora again went over to her in-laws dark house. Gladys opened the door. “Come in dear. Norm’s still in bed but let’s have a cup of coffee together. As soon as they were in the kitchen and drinking coffee, Gladys turned to her. “Well, did you and Vern, last night, ahem, you know?”

Cora just gave a thumbs up and smiled.

The Tuesday afternoon breeding session had gone extremely well. Thus Cora was a little surprised by what Gladys said next. “Cora, Norm and I thought we could make things a little more comfortable for you – and for him too. I was thinking that this morning we’d do it in our bedroom upstairs. If that’s okay with you Cora?”

Cora was so surprised that she hesitated answering. “Ahhmmm, well, I guess it’d be okay that way, yeah. Yeah right, that’d really be more comfortable.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you agree to the change. I know how we were going to stick to doing it in the laundry room so things wouldn’t get romantic. But since I’ll be there too, like before, I think we’re okay that things stay business like. Shall we get started?”

Norman and Gladys’ bedroom was dimly lit by the bedside table lamps and the curtains were closed. A big towel lay spread out on the bottom sheet, the top sheet and blankets lay draped over a chair. Norman stood by the bed, still wearing his nightshirt.

Cora removed her shoes and after pulling off her jeans and panties, gave Norman an expectant look, as if saying “you need to get naked too.’ As his nightshirt went up over his head, Cora saw that he was partly erect. Both of the breeding partners seemed unsure as to the next step. Gladys wasn’t.

“Norm, why don’t you help Cora with her blouse and bra. You’ll both be more comfortable that way.”

Cora noticed that Norman’s hands were shaking as he unbuttoned her blouse. Gladys, standing close by, noticed his shaking and able master of ceremonies that she was, helped remove the blouse and opened the clasps of Cora’s bra. Cora’s breasts weren’t large - Gladys’ were more generously proportioned – but Cora was in her early 20’s and her breasts were not even hinting at a sag.

Norman wasn’t immune to the sight of young taut breasts and his penis rose noticeably and the glans poked partly out from the foreskin. Neither of the two women could help noticing, but it was Gladys who spoke first. “Norm, it looks like you like looking at Cora’s breasts.” She put her hand underneath his penis and held the shaft loosely. “Well Cora, it looks like we won’t have work so hard getting Norm hard today.” Then tugging the foreskin back to completely expose the glans she continued, “and look what we have here.”

Norman’s erection became complete. He moved close to Cora, so close that the tip of his penis was against her belly. He put his hands on her shoulders and she responded by placing hers on his hips. Gladys, wanting to get things moving faster, guided one of his hands to her breast. He needed no more encouragement and was soon forming and reforming her breasts and pinching her nipples. This didn’t go without effect on Cora who then took his penis in her hand and slowly and lightly masturbated him.

Gladys watched carefully – she wasn’t about to have Norman ejaculate on Cora’s belly or on the bedroom floor and ruin the whole breeding session. As soon as she noticed Cora’s stroking become more aggressive, she spoke up. “I think it’s time. Cora do we need Vaseline this time?”

Cora was now in a hurry and worked up as she was, wanted more friction, not less. “Let’s try it without.” She lay on the bed, raised her knees and spread her feet. Norman was right behind her and as he moved to lie atop Cora, Gladys reached in and guided his penis to the right spot. Cora’s gasp and sharp intake of breath told Gladys he was inside. Her job done, she sat on the edge of the bed to watch the proceedings – and offer advice should it be needed.

No advice was needed and had she given any, Norman and Cora wouldn’t have heard her – they were too immersed in their breeding. Although Cora had been vigorously responding to his thrusts and was obviously having a sexual high, she had not yet climaxed when he ejaculated. He started to withdraw and lift up but Gladys stopped him. “Norm, stay inside her a little longer. Cora, you didn’t, ahmm, or did you?”

Gladys took Cora’s non-answer to mean she hadn’t climaxed. “Oh that’s too bad. I read where they say the chances of pregnancy are improved if the female has an orgasm. Norm, maybe you could, you know at the top of her slit.”

Cora was a little surprised when Norman, kneeling between her legs, soft slimy penis hanging down, reached to her crotch and began massaging her clitoris – something Vernon never did after he had ejaculated.

But Charlie had done that. Lots of times. When she had her period, that would be the major event. But this was Norman, her father-in-law, between her legs, 30 years older than her and a sticky soft uncircumcised penis hanging down. When Charlie had done this, his big circumcised penis was always hard and he would ejaculate when she climaxed as she always did. She closed her eyes and daydreamed it was Charlie’s finger rubbing her clitoris.

Where was Charlie now? What was he doing while her father-in-law was fucking her and now trying to get her off? For Charlie it was now late Wednesday afternoon. After a nightmarish slog through mountainous jungle and hours of machete work, he and his platoon had reached the mountaintop that morning – just in time to keep the bedraggled remnants of the two platoons from being overrun. His platoon was well dug in with fields of fire cleared and staked. The 1LT commanding the two platoons had needed lots of urging before he made his people stake their fields of fire too. Charlie’s threat to leave had proven a strong motivation.

After she climaxed, she hugged her knees for several minutes so her rear end would be up in the air – the ideal position for the woman after sex if she wants to get pregnant.. Afterwards she got up and dressed. Gladys had already wiped the sticky off Norman and he had on his blue overalls and chambray shirt. All three went downstairs and had coffee together.

Dawn was just breaking when Cora walked back to her house.

While she was frying eggs for his breakfast, Vernon came in and picked up that weeks edition of Samsford’s only newspaper. After glancing at the farm commodity prices, “Looks like soybean price’s not gonna break two thirty.”

The Gierigs never sold their soybeans at harvest time in the fall when prices were low. They had put up great big round corrugated steel storage silos so they could take advantage of the seasonal highs that typically came in the spring and early summer. With almost 8000 bushels in storage, it was only natural that Vernon and Norman would closely follow prices.

Vernon seemed to be simmering over the soybean price. That wasn’t good if she wanted him to do it with her tonight? And she wanted for them to do it tonight because that would help avert suspicion if Norman was to get her pregnant. She made a valiant attempt at calming him. “Vernon honey, maybe we just have to be a little patient. After all people need soybeans. Just look at all they get used for.”

Instead of calming him, it set him off in another direction.

“Cora it’s not that soybeans aren’t needed. The prices get set in Chicago by a bunch of rich Jew speculators. They don’t care about us – the people who actually grow the crops. They’re just interested in getting richer and richer. It’s no wonder Hitler had it in for ‘em. Just look what they do here. It makes my blood boil to think how that Jew Roosevelt got us in a war to save ‘em.”

Cora had heard that before – from her own father and from Norman and Vernon. She had hoped Vernon wouldn’t bring it up again today because it always put him in a foul mood. She thought it better not to reply.

He continued. “Not many people want to believe it. It’s sad. It’s pathetic. It’s true. Last week when I was in town, Kurt Grossmaul and I were talking. He says the same thing. And if anybody ought to know, it’s Kurt. He’s president of the bank.”

For fear of him getting even more heated up, Cora didn’t dare say anything. She’d found out over time that the best thing to do was just put on a sympathetic look and shake her head the right way at the right time.

Cora had never been interested in politics and her idea of current events consisted of bake sales, Wurstmarkts, basketball tournaments, auctions and such. She not only had no idea if Vernon and Kurt were right about the Jews being the cause of low farm prices, she didn’t care and if she had cared, she wouldn’t have had a clue as to how to find out what was true.

Cora reminisced about Charlie. ‘With him things had been different. He’d had a way of explaining complicated stuff that made it easier to understand, not that she had understood much of anything, but at least Charlie had been nice to listen to. Of course he was biased in favor of the Jews. His dad had been wounded in WW2. Charlie had said his dad had been a waist gunner (whatever that was) in B-24’s (whatever they were) that were bombing Germany. She sometimes wondered how Charlie’s granddad could have been so cruel as to let his son go to war. Why hadn’t he bought lots of milk cows like Vernon’s granddad had?

She thought now that maybe it was for the better that her dad and mom had ended it between her and Charlie. After all maybe Charlie wasn’t so smart after all. He’d quit university and joined the army. And now he was in Viet Nam. Even if he comes back, he’ll end up a drunk like his dad was. Vernon was smarter. He’d joined the National Guard and was safe at home. Yeah, maybe it was for the best that her parents had ended it between her and Charlie. Vernon might not get her so hot like Charlie did, but she could always take a hot bath.

Continuing to nod her head and look interested as Vernon continued his tirade on how the Jews kept all the other farm prices low and how they’d teamed up with the unions so the farm machinery prices would go up, she said to herself, “Maybe I should take a hot bath as soon as Vern leaves for the field.”

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