"Early morning milking" - Elizabeth Randy

Before dawn, I snuck into the loft of the barn so I could watch Nathaniel from afar. I saw him there as he milked the cows. Grasping each utter with his strong hands, Nathaniel teased each utter with the greatest care to ensure all the milk reached his pail. The cows hesitantly mooed as if they savored his gentle touch with every ounce of their being. "Oh" I thought to myself. "If only I were as lucky as those cows. If only he would squeeze my breasts and milk me."

"Harvesting his crops" - Rebecca Sin

Jeremiah watched Mary as she churned butter for her sister's wedding the next day. Her strong arms moved up and down, slowly and gracefully, like a delicate flower, but also strong and firm, like a woman who would know how to have her way with her man. He then noticed her supple, round breasts, bouncing roundabout with each powerful thrust she pushed down forcefully onto the butter in the churn below. He then became aroused and tried to hide his throbbing member from Mary.

Her eyes met his. "Is something wrong?" she asked innocently. The noon-time sun that shone through the window reflected in her sky blue eyes. "N-n-n-n-n-nothing" was all Jeremiah was able to stammer out. She sashayed over to the counter-top that Jeremiah was leaning against, her long, powder blue skirt flowing behind her, swishing left and right with each sway of her hip. "Wow" she remarked surprisingly. "What!?" Jeremiah questioned nervously, for he knew that if she would notice the bulge in his trousers, he could be banished from the town for offending her. "The zucchini sure are big and ripe this time of year" she commented.

Jeremiah peered out of the kitchen window, and squinted towards the field. "I didn't mean those zucchini," she remarked slyly as she ran her hand over his pulsating manhood. Jeremiah threw his head back in a fit of passion and groaned loudly as Mary unfastened the clasps holding his trousers.

"Hot buggy love" - Sindy Juggs

Amos lusted for Elizabeth from afar since she had grown from a fragile, young girl and into a strong, beautiful woman. His wife, Rebecca, had grown distant over the years and he craved the passion that the two once shared. It was very late in the evening, about 7:30 p.m., and Amos was returning from a business venture. The wind blew through his hair as he bounced in the buggy while the horse trotted at a steady pace.

Amos was almost home when he saw a woman walking along the dirt road. He pulled the reigns and his black stallion slowed to a stop. The mysterious woman kept on walking-- all Amos could see was the back of her bonnet and a few wisps of strawberry blonde hair tickling the nape of her neck. Amos asked, "Can I take you where you're going, Miss; it's not proper for a lady to be walking alone this late at night."

The woman turned her head. Amos' heart sunk: it was Elizabeth. Even with only the faint moonlight peering through the clouds, he immediately recognized her bright green eyes glowing on her porcelain face, with freckles dotting her face like the stars in the sky. "I don't mind the walk, honestly," Elizabeth replied as she tried to hide the tears drenching her face in the darkness. "Miss, I beg for the pleasure of your company. It's growing colder and a lady should not be out walking the streets at this hour."

She forced a smiled and climbed into the buggy. Amos pulled his handkerchief and gave it to Elizabeth. "Please, dry your pretty eyes," the words stumbled from his mouth. Elizabeth graciously wiped her eyes. Amos then pulled the reigns and the horse began trotting again. Despite how beautiful the summer evening was, with the sky full of stars, the fresh smell of honeysuckle filling the air, and the crickets chirping harmoniously with the soft plodding of the horses' hooves against the dirt road, Elizabeth's quiet tears turned the wonderful evening cold and chilling.

After several moments, the silence was broken from Amos' voice: "If you don't mind me asking, would you please tell me what's troubling you." "Oh," she sighed, "it's just the idea of courting. There aren't any boys that I like. They just seem so immature; I need a real man." Amos sat speechless as Elizabeth continued. "I guess you don't have to worry about that anymore, being married and all."

For a moment, Amos regretted that Amish customs forbid him to shave his beard, so that Elizabeth would never know of his wedlock. Amos paused, "Marriage isn't all that it's cracked up to be. My wife seems to want nothing do to with me anymore" Amos explained as he hung his head low, shamefully. Elizabeth pulled the handkerchief from her eyes and turned to look at him sympathetically. Another awkward silence ensued. Amos watched the road ahead, while biting on his lower lip while Elizabeth turned and watched him. "Maybe you two just aren't right together" she mumbled. Elizabeth yawned as she began to nod off to sleep.

The next thing she remembered, she awoke to find her head resting on Amos shoulder. The buggy had stopped in an empty feild. She lifted her head and gazed at the sky. All the coulds had vanished, and the sky was full of stars. "Amos, it's beautiful!" she remarked. "This is where I go whenever I want to think." Amos shyly stated.

He looked like he had something on his mind he wanted to say. Elizabeth smiled as if to encourage Amos to speak. "You know," He started, "If I could do it all over again, I would have waited for you. I don't care that you are seven years my minor." He immediately regretted what he had said. "I guess I better take you home now."

"No, let's stay out a little longer" and with that remark, Elizabeth leaned in to Amos' embrace. The whiskers of Amos' cheek brushed against hers, and tickled her nose. The two gazed into each others' eyes and kissed. Amos, cupped his hands over her warm, supple breasts as Elizabeth removed his shirt. She then twirled her fingers around his chest hair.

It was there, that night, that Amos did Elizabeth doggy style in the buggy.

"The sins of technology" - Hammerin Heekin

The cool October night air snuck under the folds of Martha's traditional blue frock as she stole into the rows of corn next to the dark shuttered house where she had been only moments ago. The cobs of corn gently brushed her body, exciting her and making her ever more anxious to reach her destination; the phallic fruit had always had that effect on her.

The meeting was held in the house on the other side of the field where the forbidden desires of the secret society could be indulged until each member, panting and weak with pleasure, slowly returned to their homes, their prohibited hunger satiated. Martha climbed the steps to the darkened door and swiftly entered. Once inside she shed her frock to reveal the dress she was forced to hide from the light of day; calf-length and mixed fibers. The implications alone further excited her.

The gathering had already begun, the group twisting and moaning in the dimly lit room as the electronic orgy began. The left of the room found itself crammed with pleasure-seekers huddled in a groping, groaning, sweaty group of girls, each vying for the smooth, black object being passed around. Martha pushed her way into the group; hungry, wet, seeking release. She gripped the mighty tool with both hands, barely able to get her fingers around the monstrous object, and slowly lowered it to her waist.

Orgasmically she pressed the button, sending waves of ecstatic pleasure through every inch of her body; she pressed it again. Maniacally, in a trance, she pushed harder and harder, whimpering, sweating, losing her breath. Volume up, volume down, channel up, channel down, contrast, color, tone. The picture box followed her every command, fulfilled her every desire she punched into the remote control. With one final thrust of the volume she shuddered, screamed and collapsed euphorically onto the plush carpeting, only to be quickly swarmed by the eager group.

Her wool undergarments dampened, her face painted with a catatonic grin, Martha lay there for a moment before weakly standing up. Her mind still flooded with pleasure and her body throbbing, Martha knew she should return home, unable to deal with more arousal at this time. Stumbling toward the door Martha was run into by a girl driven mad by the indoor plumbing and was thrust into a table, unwittingly turning on the radio.

Surprised by the sudden electronic pornography flooding her ears her knees gave way and she was held down by weakness unable to fight off the radio rapist. Wave after wave rushed over her until finally, slowly, an intense climax overcame her as the ballad finished. Twice in one night, she mused, as she drifted off to dreams of motor buggies and cotton dresses.