Adventures of Dirk: The Lady Farmer.

Dirk has a sensual encounter with a robust lady farmer.

By Original Aramis. Listen to the
Podcast at Steamy
Stories.

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The sun was lying low on the horizon, full dark not more
than an hour off, when Dirk pulled his Harley into a parking space in front of
the small general store in the center of town. He’d been on the road for two
days and was halfway through a four-day trip, and this was just one of a dozen
small Midwestern towns he’d passed through in the past 24 hours. They all
looked the same after a while, like something out of “The Andy Griffith Show,”
but he figured that wasn’t really so bad after all. This town was smaller than
most with no more than a dozen buildings lining each side of what he thought
was Main Street, and as he looked around he didn’t see what he was looking for.

As he looked up and down both sides of the street he noticed
that he was the center of attention, and he certainly understood why - there
wasn’t another bike in sight, much less another biker, and he knew that the
locals certainly weren’t used to long-haired strangers in old jeans, t-shirts,
and leather vests festooned with club patches riding into town on a bike that
sounded like thunder on two wheels. He took off his helmet, hung it on the
mirror, and then walked towards the wooden door to the general store, stripping
off his black leather fingerless gloves as he went.

The air inside the store was cool, and it was a welcome
relief from the heat of the late August afternoon. A bell over the door jingled
as he walked in, and a man who must have been the owner looked up at him from
behind the counter to Dirk’s left. There was a woman standing on this side of
the counter as well, but Dirk didn’t pay much attention to her at first.

“Howdy, stranger,” the man said, sounding like something out
of an old Western movie. Dirk smiled a bit as he replied.

“Hey, how are ya,” he said, pulling a red paisley bandana out
of his back pocket and wiping his face. “Where are your drink coolers?” he
asked, stuffing the bandana back in his pocket.

“Rear of the store to your right,” the man said, pointing in
that direction.

“Thanks,” Dirk said, walking towards the coolers, his
motorcycle boots clumping on the wooden floor. A few moments later he walked up
to the counter and placed two big bottles of Gatorade on the counter. He nodded
at the woman next to the counter and gave her a polite smile, and she smiled
back. He was considerably taller than her; he stood six feet even, and she was
five foot nothing at the most.

“That do it for ya?” the man behind the counter asked. Dirk
nodded as he replied.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said as the man rang up the drinks.

“That’ll be three dollars and ten cents,” he said, reaching
for a paper bag as Dirk pulled his leather wallet out of his other back pocket,
the chain attached to it swinging.

“That’s okay, I don’t need a bag,” Dirk said, pulling a five
out of his wallet and handing it to the man. Then he picked up one of the
bottles, twisted the cap off, and took a long drink out of it. It was cold and
good, and it gave him chills as it went down. He took his change from the man
and stuffed it in one of the side pockets of his vest, then took another
smaller drink from the bottle before speaking again.

“Is there a motel around here somewhere?” he asked the man
behind the counter. “I didn’t see one on the main drag out front.”

“You didn’t see one because they’re ain’t one,” the man
replied, smiling at Dirk. “And the closest motel from here is in Junction City,
about eighty miles thataway,” the man said, pointing down the road in the
direction that Dirk was travelling.

“Great, just freakin’ great,” Dirk muttered. “Another hour
and a half on the road…just what I need!”

“You need a place to stay, cowboy?” the woman said, and Dirk
turned and looked at her, really seeing her for the first time.

She was short, about five feet tall, with sparkling blue
eyes and short red hair worn in a “pageboy” style. She had a slightly round
face, small pert nose and nice lips that were spread in a smile showing her
white teeth. She was a solid woman, a little more stout than Dirk normally
preferred, clad in a loose-fitting cotton long sleeve plaid shirt tucked into
jeans that were tight enough to show off the considerable curves of her full,
rounded ass and equally full thighs. The shirt was unbuttoned to the second
button which showed enough cleavage to give Dirk a good indication of the
mountanous breasts that tented out the front of the shirt. Dirk wondered when
was the last time this woman saw her feet. It was an effort to tear his eyes
away from the huge mounds of her breasts pushing out the front of her shirt,
especially with all of the cleavage she was showing, but he managed it.

“Yeah, I do,” he replied, nodding at her and giving her a
small smile. She smiled back at him even bigger in return. “A barn would be
just fine if you got one,” he continued.

“My mother would roll over in her grave at my lack of
hospitality if I made a house guest sleep in the barn!” the woman said,
laughing. Her huge breasts jiggled in her shirt as she laughed, drawing Dirk’s
attention again. “I got a spare room in the back of the house that’s yours if
you want it, and you can keep your iron horse out in the barn,” she said,
nodding to the bike parked in front of the store.

“I sure appreciate that, ma'am,” Dirk replied, his smile a
bit bigger as he spoke. “But don’t you think you’d better check with your
husband first? You coming home with a biker for an overnight house guest might
not go over too well with him, ya know,” he said. The woman broke out in
laughter at this, and the man behind the counter chuckled as well. Dirk gave
them both a puzzled look, and then the woman spoke again.

“Well, for starters, cowboy, my name is Pat,” she said,
grinning hugely at him and sticking out her hand. He took her hand and shook
it; and was surprised to find her grip firm and sure. “If you’re gonna be
sleeping under my roof tonight, I think it only right that we know each other’s
names, don’t you?”

“Fair enough; my name’s Dirk,” he replied.

“Pleased to meet you, Dirk!” Pat said, her blue eyes
sparkling. “And as for the husband, well, there isn’t one, so don’t you worry
about that! I threw his ass out years ago, the lazy good-for-nothing bastard!
Now it’s just me and Max, my Bassett Hound. I love him to death but he isn’t
much on conversation, so it’ll be good to have someone to talk to over dinner
tonight,” she said.

“I appreciate your hospitality, Pat, I really do,” Dirk
said, relaxing a bit and letting his smile get a little bigger. “But you have
to let me pay you for the night or at least buy the food, something to return
the favor.” Pat smiled up at him when he said this, and he saw a new, brighter
sparkle in her blue eyes as she replied.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll come up with something!” she said. She
paused and looked up at him for a moment, grinning at him, then broke eye
contact as she walked past him toward the door. “Sun’s going down, so we’d
better get a move on,” she said, opening the wooden door to the store. She
turned and looked at him as he picked up the second bottle of Gatorade from the
counter and turned to follow her. “You can follow me out to the farm; it’s
about ten miles south of here so we’ll be there in about fifteen minutes or
so.” Then she walked out of the store and over to an old but very well-kept
customized Chevy S-10 pickup truck, getting in and starting the engine. Dirk
quickly put the other bottle of Gatorade in his saddlebag, threw on his helmet
and gloves, then got on the bike and fired it up. She drove out of town with
him following behind her, the thunder of his pipes bouncing off of the few
buildings there were in the center of town.

Fifteen minutes later Pat turned off of the two-lane county
blacktop road onto a dirt driveway that must have been at least a quarter of a
mile long. The land on either side of the road was green with soybeans, and
sitting at the end of the driveway right in the center of the huge expanse of
farmland was a typical midwestern-style wooden white farmhouse with a green
roof, green shutters on the windows and a wraparound porch. The house had
several large, old oak trees around it, effectively putting the house in the
shade for most of the day. Dirk could see the barn rising up behind the house,
and he pulled his bike up to the barn as Pat parked the truck in front of the
house. He got his bag of belongings out of the left saddlebag and walked around
to the front of the house where Pat was waiting for him on the porch. She
smiled at him as he walked up the wooden steps to the porch.

“Welcome to ‘Shady Oaks,’ my farm,” Pat said proudly. “I grow the best soybeans in the state here, and am damn proud of it!”

“You work all this land all on your own, Pat?” Dirk asked, looking around at the vast expanse of farmland that surrounded the house. Pat laughed briefly before replying.

“Hell, no! I let the hired help take care of that,” she explained, opening the front door and walking inside with Dirk following her. Th