Free Fifty Bales of Hay by Rachael Treasure Page B

about working the cows through the yard. She had a plan. She wanted Tommy. And she would have him.
    The last of the cattle flowed through the yard easy-peasy, their weights recorded on the computer, the drench pack just lasting the distance until the final heifer pulled back from the release of the crush. The heifer saw her chance at the opened head bale and tumbled forward, jogging over to her mates.
    ‘Job well done, Beanbag girl,’ Tommy said, clapping her on the shoulder. She felt his big thick fingers press into the flesh of her upper arm. She saw his eyes brush over her deep, tanned cleavage. She felt a buzz. She knew she had him, if she wanted him. She chewed her lip for a second.
    ‘You missed one,’ she said.
    Tommy’s eyes scanned the forcing yard, his head tilted to the side, puzzled. There were no cattle left there.
    ‘What about me? You didn’t fat-score me,’ she said, jutting out her hip, turning her backside to him and slapping her own rump hard with the flat of her hand.
    ‘Oh, I’ll score you alright,’ Tommy said, grinning at her.
    ‘I’m serious,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a serious crush on you.’
    ‘You have?’
    She nodded, jerking open the side gate of the cattle crush and stepping in. She stood waiting at the head bale, eyeing him with her big brown collie-dog eyes, hungry for a feed. She bent forward.
    ‘Go on. Dare you,’ she said, wiggling her ample rump at him, running her hands on her thick and meaty thighs. ‘Pin me in.’
    Tommy swallowed, his eyes darting from the head bale lever to her. He hesitated.
    ‘Quick, or I’ll get away,’ Bronwyn said. She turned to him, her voice low, like the bulls droning to be let in with the cows. ‘I want you, Tommy. I want you bad. From behind.’
    ‘Oh, jeez, woman,’ Tommy breathed. ‘You sure?’
    She nodded and smiled.
    Tommy sucked in a breath. ‘I want you too,’ he said huskily.
    Tommy reached for the lever. He pulled gently down so the metal ratchet clanked and the bale closed in around Bronwyn’s shoulders. With her head caught in the cattle crush, Bronwyn felt her pulse quicken and her horniness glimmer across her skin, making her giant nipples rise to two hard lumps. She felt a desperation, she felt she wanted to be filled up by Tommy, to be slammed by him, to be utterly taken. How long had it been?
    Hastily, with her breath coming fast, she began to undo her belt buckle. She heard Tommy step into the crush behind her. She heard his rodeo buckle clank a little as he undid it. Then when she felt his touch on the skin of herback, wetness soaked into her panties. Giving him a helping hand, they both began to tug her dusty jeans over the curves of her buttocks. Stripped bare from the waist down, with her arse pointed roundly to the man who stood before it, Bronwyn thought she would scream out in frustration if he didn’t plunge into her there and then.
    ‘Oh, god, that’s beautiful,’ she heard him murmur. Suddenly she felt the rough skin of his hands roving gently up and over her giant rump and heard his quavering sigh, as if this delivery into his life was something like an answered prayer. She felt his hot sweating cheek pressed against the white dome of one of her arse cheeks, his sideburns prickling just a little.
    ‘Oh, god, that’s beautiful,’ he said again, his fingers palpitating her dimpled flesh. His touch got firmer. Her desire ran thickly in her. Then he bit her. Her cry was sudden. The pain speared through her, delightfully. His mouth warm and wet, his teeth sharp, but the bite gentle enough so the pain and pleasure blended into bliss. She jolted.
    ‘Again,’ she said, ‘bite me again.’ It felt painfully addictive. He sunk his teeth into her dimpled flesh and began to suck. This time harder. Her skin bruised. Mottled where his mouth had been. Bronwyn screamed out. Her cry seemed to open the gate in him. She heard his quickened breath. His frantic hands grabbing, kneading, moulding her flesh, his