I grip the front of his flannel shirt, the softness of the fabric juxtaposed against the solidity of his chest beneath, and push…hard. He falls back, bouncing a bit as he lands, his back thudding against bales stacked behind.
Hastily, I pull my skirt up and brace myself against the cold winter air. Even in the barn, it’s so frigid I can see my breath, so I waste no time. He’s down, and I am on him, straddling him, grimacing as I give all my weight to the painful points of hay sticking out from the bale. Leaning into it, I gasp, and then settle, grabbing his plaid-covered shoulders to steady myself. Maybe it’s the cold that makes me so much more aware of our heat, but I can feel his rising, and I can smell his scent thickening as he warms.
I sit back a bit, briefly, my naked bottom making contact with the rough denim of his jeaned thighs, allowing room to undo his buckle, unbutton his fly, and set his rigid cock free. I don’t wait for words or kisses, I simply tighten my thighs and abs, pulling myself upward, my breasts momentarily at his eye-level, and then downward, my wet cunt opening readily onto his erection.
The first thrust, spreading me apart, sets off spasms of heat from my core to every extremity. I swear I can feel him inside of me all the way to the tips of each strand of hair. I grind my hips against him, hungry to consume every inch of him, and let my head fall back. Friction entices my clit to bloom in size, and he reaches a hand down to circle it, knowing this little movement will be all it takes to send me over the edge. I rise and fall, thighs burning, knees screaming against the sharp strands of hay jutting out from the bale into my flesh. I imagine the skin breaking, my blood staining the musty pedestal supporting us, as we move together…one frenzied being.
His balls shift against my taint as I press my labia against him. I grind, and grind, trying desperately to reach my center, to bust myself open, and when it happens, that rush of wetness explodes, gushing out onto him, drenching his lap.
I cum…and cum…and cum, and the animals in their stalls, restless and confused by my screams, bray and huff and snort. Their noises rise in crescendo with my own…and then his–a guttural growl–joins into the cacophony, as he explodes inside of me, singeing my insides.
I collapse onto him, my body now heavy and boneless. I stay there, my head bowed against his, catching my breath, focusing on the slowing of my heart. His erection shrinks inside of me, and our liquids mix and drip from my cunt. I imagine them pooling beneath him, going cold.
“We should go in,” he says.
“I know,” I reply.
Stolen moments like these keep us alive.