R
rhys64247
Iron
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2026
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I work on a farm and I've been fucking my cousin here. It started innocently enough - we were both working long hours in the summer heat, doing the kind of physical labor that makes you sweat and ache all over. The kind of work that leaves you exhausted but strangely energized at the same time. I've been working on my uncle's farm for the past 7 weeks - and my cousin has been working here for the past 3 years too. We spent so much time together during those long days, feeding animals, cleaning stalls, and repairing fences. At first, it was just casual conversation while we worked, but gradually we started sharing more personal stories. The tension built slowly. There were moments when our hands would brush against each other while passing tools, or when we'd find ourselves alone in the barn after everyone else had gone home for the day. The smell of hay and horses filled the air, and there was something primal about being surrounded by all those animals while feeling this forbidden attraction growing between us. One particularly hot afternoon, we were tasked with cleaning out the horse stable. The horses were watching us work, their large eyes following our every move. They neighed occasionally, their loud calls echoing through the barn. I remember thinking how strange it was that these magnificent creatures were our only witnesses to what was about to happen. My cousin was wearing tight jeans that showed off their curves, and their tank top was soaked with sweat. I could see the outline of their chest through the damp fabric, and I caught myself staring more than once. They caught me looking and instead of being embarrassed, they just smiled that knowing smile that made my heart race.
We finished cleaning the stable faster than usual, working side by side in comfortable silence. When we were done, they leaned against a bale of hay and suggested we take a break. The horses continued their gentle neighing, almost like they were encouraging us. The air was thick with the smell of hay, horse sweat, and something else - something electric that crackled between us. I moved closer to them, my hands trembling slightly. They didn't pull away when I touched their arm, and that was all the invitation I needed. Our first kiss was tentative, almost shy, but it quickly grew more passionate. Their lips were soft and tasted faintly of the strawberries we'd been eating earlier. We moved to a pile of fresh hay in the corner of the stable, the horses still watching with what seemed like curiosity. Their neighing grew louder, almost like they were cheering us on or maybe warning us - I couldn't tell. The hay was soft beneath us, and the smell of it mixed with the scent of my cousin's perfume created an intoxicating aroma.
Their hands were everywhere - in my hair, on my back, unbuttoning my shirt. I explored their body with equal enthusiasm, marveling at how perfect they felt beneath my touch. The horses' neighing became a rhythm, a soundtrack to our forbidden encounter. Their loud calls seemed to echo the passion building between us. We made love right there in the stable, surrounded by the gentle giants who watched us with their wise, knowing eyes. The hay scratched against our skin, leaving red marks that would remind us of this moment for days to come. Their moans mixed with the horses' neighing, creating a symphony of pleasure that seemed to fill the entire barn.
When it was over, we lay there in each other's arms, listening to the horses settle down. Their neighing had quieted to soft whinnies, almost like they were satisfied with what they'd witnessed. We knew we'd crossed a line, but in that moment, lying in the hay with my cousin's head on my chest, I couldn't bring myself to regret it. That was just the beginning. We've continued our secret affair throughout the summer, always finding moments alone in the barn or the fields. The horses have become our silent confidants, our witnesses to this forbidden love. Sometimes I wonder if they understand what they're seeing, or if they simply accept it as another part of the farm's natural rhythm. The farm has become our playground, our secret world where we can explore this forbidden passion without judgment. And the horses? They continue to watch, to neigh, to be part of our story in ways I never could have imagined when I first came to work on my uncle's farm seven weeks ago.
We finished cleaning the stable faster than usual, working side by side in comfortable silence. When we were done, they leaned against a bale of hay and suggested we take a break. The horses continued their gentle neighing, almost like they were encouraging us. The air was thick with the smell of hay, horse sweat, and something else - something electric that crackled between us. I moved closer to them, my hands trembling slightly. They didn't pull away when I touched their arm, and that was all the invitation I needed. Our first kiss was tentative, almost shy, but it quickly grew more passionate. Their lips were soft and tasted faintly of the strawberries we'd been eating earlier. We moved to a pile of fresh hay in the corner of the stable, the horses still watching with what seemed like curiosity. Their neighing grew louder, almost like they were cheering us on or maybe warning us - I couldn't tell. The hay was soft beneath us, and the smell of it mixed with the scent of my cousin's perfume created an intoxicating aroma.
Their hands were everywhere - in my hair, on my back, unbuttoning my shirt. I explored their body with equal enthusiasm, marveling at how perfect they felt beneath my touch. The horses' neighing became a rhythm, a soundtrack to our forbidden encounter. Their loud calls seemed to echo the passion building between us. We made love right there in the stable, surrounded by the gentle giants who watched us with their wise, knowing eyes. The hay scratched against our skin, leaving red marks that would remind us of this moment for days to come. Their moans mixed with the horses' neighing, creating a symphony of pleasure that seemed to fill the entire barn.
When it was over, we lay there in each other's arms, listening to the horses settle down. Their neighing had quieted to soft whinnies, almost like they were satisfied with what they'd witnessed. We knew we'd crossed a line, but in that moment, lying in the hay with my cousin's head on my chest, I couldn't bring myself to regret it. That was just the beginning. We've continued our secret affair throughout the summer, always finding moments alone in the barn or the fields. The horses have become our silent confidants, our witnesses to this forbidden love. Sometimes I wonder if they understand what they're seeing, or if they simply accept it as another part of the farm's natural rhythm. The farm has become our playground, our secret world where we can explore this forbidden passion without judgment. And the horses? They continue to watch, to neigh, to be part of our story in ways I never could have imagined when I first came to work on my uncle's farm seven weeks ago.
