Out in the great wide open, far beyond the bustle of city life, there is a place. A place we have created; and a place for creation.
It is a place of nurturing and life. Where we live in sync with Nature, and her rhythms guide us in the neverending creation and husbandry of new life.
I have felt it’s pull for years. A man whose hands know when to plant seed in fertile soil, how to midwife spring’s calves onto green pastures. How to do and fix, build and create.
The season’s energy thrums within me. Calling as rain does to the grass. Twice before I’ve answered it, and one perfect child plays at my feet, smiling up at me, while our perfect baby sleeps in the arms of my loving wife.
I feel it again. As strong as ever. Yet my wife can no longer answer it with me. This must be her last.
So I work. Nurturing the life that nurtures our family. Remembering the magic that her and I created. Reveling in it. But I also yearn to make it again.
And I wonder if there’s a woman out there who yearns the same way. Who feels the raw power of her instinct within her, pulsing in time with mine.
Daydreams and thoughts of that consume me. The feel of a woman under me, craving what I crave. Her body and heart and womb wide open to me. Giving and taking. Consumating destiny.
The life I’ve created all around only heightens it. I dream of her, bare to the world – bare to me – on the green mattress of a new planted crop, under blue skies.
Oh how I want that again. To thrust and take. To claim and posess her fertility as mine. On a bed of ripe grain, warm from the harvest sun, cradling us. Trillions of seeds, every one a universe of life that I have made; as I savor what we ourselves are making.
To hear her cries and feel our aching lust. Instinct rising, transcending, overpowering all else. As I look into her eyes, feel the heat of her release, and pour the gift of life into her perfect womb once more.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/pdzoqc/perfect_harmony_on_the_farm_impregnation