Hello! This is a reply to a DWP post that I spotted and thought I’d make a run at instead of working yesterday. I had a ton of fun with this, but ended up running over Reddit’s character count. I’d break it up into two chapters, but the first passage isn’t overly dirty (with the notable exception of some hand holding).
If you just want the erotic portion of this erotic literature, skip ahead [here](https://old.reddit.com/user/ThePenningPlace/comments/12psh94/falling_hard_for_a_farmers_daughter_pt_2/)
All characters depicted are over 18.
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I kicked the last box into the middle of the empty living room and cast a tired eye around the place. Moving was a pain in the ass at the best of times, but having to move *here* made it hurt just a little bit more; the backwater hick town felt like a significant downgrade from Chicago, but there was work to be had so I’d just need to get over it.
Two firm handshakes and a few slaps on the back to wish me luck, with some hollow promises to come visit thrown in for good measure, and the friends who’d come along for the ride were off again, bound for home. I was well and truly alone. I got to unpacking.
Time slipped away from me unnoticed, and a grumble in my stomach told me that it was past time to eat something; I checked my watch. After 8:00 already.
Knowing precious little about the town I’d just moved to, I took a look out the window of my third floor walkup. In the style of a million other small towns in this country, Glassford was effectively a single main street of brick-façaded buildings owned by local folks who ran small businesses out of them. A pharmacy, a bakery of some sort, one or two diners. These towns were often all carbon copies of each other. The church was across the street, I noticed with a chuckle, completing my small town bingo card. I spotted a little greasy spoon a block up, and decided I’d make for it.
By the time I got down to the street level, tugging a jacket around my shoulders against the chill, a group of studious bible study goers were milling out into the street. The old brick church, Anglican maybe, with its high windows and looming steeple, looked to be home to a dedicated congregation; some twenty or more people had filed out already, and I could see still more inside. It wasn’t so much my thing anymore, but that was nice for them, I supposed. At least they had each other for company. One of them, a sweet looking girl in her early twenties, saw me watching and gave a wave. I pursed my lips together in a lame excuse for a smile and ducked off for dinner.
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Not having had time to hang my curtains that night, the morning sun woke me painfully early. I screwed my eyes tight contemptuously, cursing it for rousing me so, my determination to fall back asleep was further defeated by the clang of bells across the street. The stupid church. It was Sunday. Not being given to sleeping in much anyway, I recalled the mountain of boxes in my living room and grumpily stumped out to greet it. There was no use in putting it off. I might as well get to it.
The work went quickly enough, and I let myself enjoy the idea of a new place. It might be a little slower than I was used to, but there was no reason I couldn’t make the most of it. By 11:30, the kitchen was set up, the coffee was on, and I’d talked myself into needing another turkey club from Mel’s down the street.
Letting my good mood get the best of me, I struck out again, and was again impeccable with my timing; the Sunday worshippers had been let out, and were beginning to make their way out to the lawn with little paper cups of coffee or cookies in hand. They did seem a happy bunch. Children ran freely around the building in games of Tag while parents gossiped cheerfully amongst themselves. The younger folks, those without children or spouses it seemed, stood in a knot closer to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. Wouldn’t you know it, the same one who’d spied me last night found me again, once again waving enthusiastically at me. Some of her friends turned to spot me out. I made more of an effort to return the positivity this time around. A few of her friends, all women, took to fervently insisting something to her that I couldn’t make out. As she turned from them and stepped lightly into the street, it became clear what the message had been. She practically skipped up to me before I could reasonably act like I hadn’t noticed her coming to slip away.
“I’m Sarah!” she nearly shouted at me, hand outstretched rigidly. I took it, and replied that I was Max, peering over her shoulder at the gaggle of observers she’d left behind, as they did absolutely nothing to hide their nosiness.
“Well it is just so nice to meet you! I don’t know if you remember, but I was the one who waved at you last night out here too!”
I bit off a grin as I confirmed that I did, in fact, remember her. It was innocent enough, but how could I not have remembered? Maybe she was nervous. Maybe nothing really happened around here. Either way, she was a little overly exuberant.
“Well of course you do” she laughed, playfully swatting at my shoulder. She had a wide, generous smile that was honestly infectious. She was just perky, inside and out. Her curled brown hair was bound half up in a red bow that matched bright red lipstick, red polka dots on her otherwise white dress, and ruby red flats. She might have been a 50’s pinup model with almost no additional effort required. It was cute. I liked it.
“Did you just move in here then?” she probed. I confirmed that I had, pointing to my living room window above as proof. She was new in town too, she told me, having moved here from Heston just two months prior. Heston was 2 miles up the road, and wasn’t a town so much as a half dozen houses on the intersection of two county roads. I told her I’d come from Chicago, where I’d just graduated college.
“Gosh that’s exciting,” she told me, so cheerfully I might have thought she being sarcastic if I didn’t know any better, “I’ve never been to a city that big.” Her friends in the background still looked on, chaperoning us from across the road.
“Do you know anyone in town then?” she asked. I told her I’d taken some work in town, doing farm accounts for the little local firm, but didn’t know anyone apart from Mr. Jenkins, who’d given me the job.
“Well the church is a great place to get to know folks around here; you really *must* come out next week. Some of the younger folks also come out to Bible Study on Saturday nights, and we do little potlucks during the week sometimes”. She looked at me so earnestly, like she’d just taken her nervous shot at a crush. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I hadn’t been to church in over 10 years, having last accompanied my grandmother to Mass when I was 14. I couldn’t lie to her, looking up at me like that, with all of her friends looking on, so I promised I’d do my best. A brief flash of disappointment told me that I was caught. The composed herself again quickly.
“Well if doing our best is good enough for Jesus, I guess it’ll just have to be good enough for me too then” she said. I felt I’d wounded her pride a little, and the guilt was tremendous. Long moments passed before either one of us spoke again.
“Well can I at least tempt you with some lunch? It’s the Pastor’s birthday today so we’re having a big ol’ party”. I spied the grills getting rolled out into the parking lot, and the smell of charcoal and lighter fluid offered more than a lonely deli sandwich would. Knowing she wouldn’t take no for an answer again, and not wanting to bear her disappointment a second time, I accepted the offer.
She pulled me by the hand across the street, checking both ways unnecessarily for traffic that wasn’t there. Her friend’s made a ridiculous show of looking in every direction but ours as she tugged me along with her, acting for all the world like they hadn’t been staring the whole time. She introduced me to them, one by one: Emily, Elizabeth, Alex, Becky, Emily again, Michelle, Adrianna, and Jessica. I tried my damnedest to remember them all, knowing I’d fail. They grilled me with questions about myself, to which I tried to keep up, but it was like a firing line; I was simply outnumbered. One asked if I was ‘here alone’; I replied that I was, only to notice Sarah staring daggers at the girl who’d enquired.
The afternoon was, though I hesitate to admit it, actually pretty pleasant. I ate burnt hot dogs and macaroni salad under the shade of a big oak, chased with a heaping slice of Sarah’s own peach pie, and subjected myself to the great indignity of being talked into throwing a football around with some of the kids. Sarah was always close at hand, for which I was thankful, and her friends eventually lessened the degree of their inquisition. They’d all known each other from birth; being a small town, no one really ever left, and fewer still ever moved in.
The sun hung low by the time things wound down. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had fun, and I promised Sarah, in earnest, that I’d be happy to do this again.
“Well it would be nice to have your company again next Sunday,” she said, smiling as she collected some paper plates from a picnic table, “though you really ought to come on in for the service next time. We’re doing the Psalms right now; they’re my favorite”. I knew already that there would be no avoiding actual attendance at some point. I asked if there’d be room next to her if I came, hoping she’d pick up on my mild attempt to flirt with her. She chuckled innocently.
“Well of course there will be. I usually sit next to Daddy, but you can squeeze in between us if you like.” She’d pointed him out to me; a hulking six and a bit feet of tough, farm bred muscle, with a face like a tombstone. I told her that sounded great. One of the Emily’s laughed aloud, having been eavesdropping from nearby. Sarah shot her a deadly glance.
“Of course,” she carried on, “we don’t need to wait that long I suppose. If you’re up there all by your lonesome, I’ll bring over a meal for you. I know you boys don’t like cooking much after all”. It dawned on me that the stereotype couldn’t have been grounded in any actual experience; I’d only seen one other guy our age at the picnic, and he’d kept to himself the whole time.
I agreed to the meal, thanking Sarah and telling her I really looked forward to it. I meant it.
Emily slammed an armful of trash in the bin with a huff, stomping off. Sarah hummed a hymnal tune to herself as she tidied, looking really rather pleased with herself.
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I spent the intervening days getting settled into work. Jenkins was a real salt of the earth type, and I grew to enjoy his company. Between him and I, his wife was the only other person in the small office, and Betty just did the phones. They were good people.
Friday of my first week rolled around. Jenkins and his wife told me to knock off at 3:00, arguing that I’d done more than my due that week. Betty asked if I’d made plans to keep busy for the weekend, and I was reminded of my promise to Sarah.
“She’s a good girl,” Betty said when I told her of the invitation, “and her family are good folk too. Her Pa is a hard man, but a house full of girls will do that to the best of us”.
I pointed out that there were a lot of girls in town, especially from what I’d seen last Sunday.
“Well, most of the young fellas will be in the fields most of the time,” Jenkins chipped in, doing the clasp on his briefcase, “but you’re not wrong. We had a bumper crop of little ladies for a while there, eh Birdy?”. Betty nodded, humming agreement. “Only one in five boys at County General for near on five years there for a bit. Strangest thing I ever saw.”
Strange indeed. But not half so strange as what awaited me when I got home.
Sarah, looking for all the world like a Midwest farmer’s daughter waited by the steps of my building. Denim shorts, nothing obscene but still fractionally shorter than I’d have expected, hugged her hips just so, and a plaid top with a solitary button undone and tied *just* above her waist all went together with low cut boots to complete the caricature. It was extremely cute all the same, even if a little cliché. She held a casserole pan in both hands.
I asked if she’d been waiting for me, implicitly wondering how she’d known I’d be home early.
“Well I just thought,” she began sheepishly, smiling at Jenkins and his wife as they drove past on their own way home, “maybe Jenkins would let you out a little earlier today”. I’d need to give Betty shit on Monday.
I asked if she’d come up, hoping she’d agree. I won’t pretend I wasn’t thrilled when she said yes. I wasn’t given to fancy, but I’ll own up to having spent a hot minute thinking about her over the past week, and the longer I thought about her, the more I liked her. I loved the warm smile that she was generous enough the share with anyone who looked her way, and the soft bounce of her brown curls as she laughed honestly with her friends. She was warm and gentle, and far too gracious for me to fall for a little bit. After the eat, sleep, swipe, repeat routine of trying to date in the city, there was something wholesomely attractive about the coy dance of manners and pleasantries that went along with the setting. In hindsight, it would have looked like a shitty Hallmark movie to my friends from back home, but it was easy to fall into, and I wanted to trip right on in.
“Oh my” she said, as I open my door at the top of the stairs.
Knowing she’d be by this week, and hoping to make a good impression if she came up, I’d redoubled my efforts to get the place looking presentable. Refusing to be let down by her politely faked enthusiasm, I did have to admit that the place was still a little underwhelming. It looked like a dude lived here alone, even if that dude had bought three throw pillows and a vacuum cleaner just to impress a girl. She took a few tentative steps inside, setting the dish on the counter, evidently put off by the fact that the front door entered straight into the galley kitchen. I admitted that it wasn’t much, but it was home. She warmed slightly at that.
“Well of course it is!” Her smile melted me just a little bit. “Home is where the heart is anyway, and that’s what matters.” I agreed, offering to fix her a drink.
“Oh I don’t really drink much, but I’ll take a glass of water if you’ve got it.” Her faith in me was obviously low; of course I had water. She showed herself to the couch around the corner, and I brought her a mason jar, which delighted her.
I took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, and she chatted amiably with me about this and that. I was so thrilled with it all; just having her close to me again erased the loneliness that life in a new town had been building up. She told me all about her family, her three younger sisters, how she’d gone to high school nearby, and how she lived with two of the girls I’d met, just down on the other end of town. She’d ridden horses as a girl but Chester was too old to climb up on anymore, so he mostly just napped in the field at her parents’ place now. She’d only ever had one boyfriend, the chap I’d spotted at the picnic last week, but her Daddy didn’t like him much, so they’d broken up last Fall. Having spent too long trying to fuck in the city had forever ruined the word Daddy for me, and I found it nearly impossible not to wince at her use of the word.
“Can I warm up some dinner for you?” she asked sweetly. I’d forgotten all about it, but the clock told me we’d been talking nearly two hours now. I offered to warm it up, and excused myself to the kitchen to make good on the offer. I hadn’t actually used the oven yet, and took a while figuring out the buttons and dials of the old appliance.
“And what about you then?” she called from the den. “Dated much? I’m sure it’s easier when there’s more to choose from.” There was tension in her voice; she was overeager for an answer and worried at what the reply might be. Torn between worry that she might not like the truth, that I’d been around the block plenty, but entirely against facing the disappointment of getting caught in a lie again, I gave a non-committal reply; I’d tried my hand a little, when time permitted, during school. She seemed okay with that answer. I carried on, voice raised so she could hear me, silently cursing the antique oven for consistently beeping angrily at me, explaining that school had made it hard to go steady with anyone for long.
I near jumped out of my skin as her voice cooed out from mere feet away.
“Maybe you just didn’t find the right one.” She’d slipped in while I fiddled with the knobs, unheard. I stammered that she must be right, apologizing for shouting while she’d been so close. She laughed, and my nerves restored themselves.
“Do you need a hand with that?” she asked in amusement, arching an eyebrow playfully. I confessed myself to be a lost cause, having eaten only the packs of shitty ramen I brought with me. She replied that she didn’t go for foreign food much, and we shared a chuckle while she managed to do what I could not, setting the oven for 400 and popping in the glass tray of something that looked to be mostly beans and potatoes.
“That’ll just take about a half hour” she said, straightening and brushing her hands together, as though concerned every surface she’d touched might have been dirty. The way she said it made it clear that I’d be responsible for taking it out, as she wouldn’t be here to do so. I asked if she’d stay.
“Well,” she said, dragging the word out, “it’s only, I’ve been here a while, and I don’t want my friends to wonder about me. Folks get to talking around here. It’s a small town.” Her hands fidgeted nervously, and I grew concerned that I’d put her in a tight spot. I should have been more considerate. I assured her that was the last thing I’d want. She laughed a little, saying that her friend Jenny had kissed Paul Ruthers behind the school in 11th grade and people had been so rude about it that her family had moved over the whole thing. I proclaimed my surprise that something like a kiss was so frowned upon, even in such a small community.
“Oh no, it would have been nothing at all if she was just kissing him on the lips” she said, eyes on her toes, blushing. I understood what she meant. That would have made waves in the city too, I assured her.
“Yeah,” she said, still a little embarrassed at having said so much, looking everywhere but at me, “but umm…”
I decided to save her from herself, and asked if there’d still be a spot for me next to her on Sunday.
God, the way her face lit up. Beautiful, big brown eyes practically lit up, and her wide, open mouthed smile was too infectious by half.
“You mean you’ll come?! You’ll really come?!” I assured her I would, genuinely. She clapped her hands and bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement. I didn’t think anyone genuinely liked church quite that much, but the earnest look of overwhelming happiness on her face had me ready to face anything, even if it meant an hour with her dad at my elbow. Anything, as long as she was there on the other.
She made good on her intention to leave, tugging her boots on and turning to wave a goodbye, still grinning from ear to ear. My heart was pounding with genuine excitement. I guess I went to church now.
The oven screamed angrily a minute later. Giving up on the wretched thing, I ate a bowl of cold beans and mashed potatoes.
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I was there, at 10:30 sharp. The commute wasn’t long at all, obviously, but I’d be damned if I was going to make a poor impression on Sarah’s family, not to mention her father. It was wild to think I cared so much; going to church for a girl I hadn’t even kissed was one thing, but tucking in my shirt to look respectable for her dad was another entirely. I was, clearly, infatuated.
I joined the family outside, and she introduced me to them all. I’d met the girls last week, but not her mom or dad. Old Mr. Harding near broke my hand as he took it, and the only word he said was my name, which he repeated as Sarah told it to him. It wasn’t unkind; I think that was just his face.
The service was rough. All I cared about was looking like I knew what was going on, which I definitely did not; I mouthed the words to the hymns as I read along in the hymnal, glancing at Sarah occasionally to find a little smirk on her face. She knew I wasn’t actually singing. The wooden pew was torture on my back, but her dad sat straight as an arrow, and I’d be damned if I’d slouch in front of him. All of a sudden, a rousing chorus of Threefold Amens rang out and I supposed that we must be done, thanking the Lord blasphemously as the Minister confirmed that to be the case. We filed out, enjoying snacks, coffee, and company on the lawn, as we had last week.
Having no cause for a full blown lunch, we all went our own ways after an hour or two of chatter. Jenkins and his wife asked how dinner had been on Friday on their way to their car, laughing riotously at the look I gave them in reply. To my very great relief, Sarah’s father himself invited me to lunch after next week’s service, and I didn’t miss a beat in accepting wholeheartedly. They piled into their truck, pulling off for the family home, leaving Sarah to make her way to the apartment she shared with her friends on her own. I offered to walk with her.
“Yours is closer; I’ll take you home. Doesn’t make a lick of sense to have you walk me all the way up just to come back this way by yourself.” I complained that it was only a hundred feet to my door, and that wasn’t much time with such good company. She blushed a little, but we set off anyway.
“I’m happy you came, really” she said. I was too. I actually enjoyed myself.
“Oh you don’t *have* to say that, I know it’s not your thing.” I admitted that it might not be mine, but it was hers, and that mattered to me. It was a leap, I knew, given how little time we’d spent together, but I meant it. She muttered a quiet “Gosh” and looked away from me, swinging her purse lightheartedly; I suspected, or hoped, she was trying to hide a smile. I wished with all my heart I could have seen it, just to know for sure. She only looked back, finally, as we got to my door. For all her hard work, some of the grin remained.
“You really can’t just carry on being that sweet, you know,” she said, tucking her bottom lip behind her top slightly, “my friends are starting to get a little jealous.” I told her that I didn’t see a problem with either of those things. She clasped her hands behind her back and twisted back and forth a little, looking for all the world like her nerves might get the best of her. I worked to look like my own weren’t getting the best of me too. I wanted so badly to kiss her.
“Well Amy already thinks you’re up to no good, keeping her dish as long as you have.” I offered to run up and grab it, disappointed as she took the conversation in a different direction.
“No no,” she insisted, “I’ll come back for it. This week. I’ll come back for it this week” she finished, quietly.
“If that’s alright with you?”
It was alright with me.
She reached out a hand, taking mine gently in hers. I nearly gagged on my heart, seated resolutely at the top of my throat. I squeezed back, and just like that, she told me she’d see me soon, pulled her hand back, and was off down the sidewalk like it had never happened.
I stood a long minute, wondering what I’d done wrong, until I looked across the street to find an Emily giving me an accusatory side eye look while talking with the Minister’s wife.
This town, man.
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Don’t forget to continue [here](https://old.reddit.com/user/ThePenningPlace/comments/12psh94/falling_hard_for_a_farmers_daughter_pt_2/) when you’re ready!
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/12qkv2w/falling_hard_for_a_farmers_daughter_mf18long_and
Rub your warm cum all over me please https://linktr.ee/thelma_adams
Save the girl from loneliness https://linktr.ee/kittydi