Emma & Caitlin II
The Bathurst sun beats down on the back of my neck, a relentless, heavy weight that matches the throb between my legs. I wipe a strand of black hair from my forehead, my skin slick with sweat, watching Caitlin by the water tank.
She's a vision of pure, deliberate torture. The tank's overflow is running, and she's standing right under the stream, that white tank top plastered to her skin like a second layer of flesh. It's translucent now, showing off the heavy, soft curve of her tits and the dark shadow of her areolas underneath.
She knows I'm watching. She runs her hands over her wet chest, squeezing her breasts, flicking her nipples through the wet fabric, and then she grabs the horse rope coiled on the fence post.
She's not just holding it; she's playing with it. The rough, hemp rope slides through her fingers like she's imagining it wrapped around my wrists. She snaps it tight, the sound cracking through the humid air like a whip.
My breath hitches. I picture her tying me down, right there in the dirt, making me beg for it while the flies buzz around us. She's a BDSM slut, plain and simple, flaunting it right in her daddy's front yard. My hands clench into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. I want to grab that rope, turn the tables, and leave her marked and breathless.
One day, I'll get her. One day, I'll make her pay for every single teasing glance.
"Coming up?" she calls out, her voice light and breezy, completely ignoring the tension radiating off me. She nods toward the massive green machine sitting idle in the shed—the Combined Harvester. It's a beast of metal and glass, parked high on its tires.
"Daddy won't be back for hours. The air con is better in there."
I don't answer. I just stalk toward the harvester, my boots kicking up dust from the dry earth. I can smell the canola in the fields surrounding us, that thick, cloying scent of crushed green and pollen.
I hate it.
I hate the heat, I hate the teasing, and I mostly hate how much I want to wreck her.
I climb the metal ladder, the rungs hot against my palms, and haul myself into the cabin. It's cramped inside, smelling of old leather, diesel fumes, and the sharp tang of hydraulic fluid. The windows are tinted dark, turning the bright Australian sun into a murky twilight.
Caitlin is already there, lounging in the driver's seat, her legs spread wide, those dark shorts cut so high I can see the curve of her ass cheeks against the vinyl.
She grins at me, that wicked glint in her eyes, and pats the narrow console between the seats. "Room for two." She licks her lips, slow and deliberate.
Something in me snaps.
The composure I've been holding onto all day shatters like dry glass. "Oh Geez, fuck you, Caitlin!" I snarl, kicking the door shut behind me.
The metal clangs loud, sealing us in this hot, metal box. I don't wait for permission. I don't wait for a cue. I lunge forward, grabbing a fistful of her wet hair and yanking her head back. Her gasp is sharp, cut off as I crash my mouth against hers.
It's not a kiss; it's a bite. I taste the sweat on her lips, the faint sweetness of lip gloss, and the raw hunger underneath. I push her back against the driver's seat, my knee shoving between her thighs to force them wider.
"You think this is a game?" I growl against her mouth, my hand sliding down her stomach to rip those ridiculous shorts aside.
The fabric tears with a satisfying sound. She's soaking wet, her panties already damp.
"You want to play with ropes? I'll show you what happens when you tease a cunt like me."
I shove her down, climbing onto the seat with her. The space is tight, the steering wheel digging into my back, but I don't care. I straddle her face, my thighs locking around her head, pinning her to the headrest.
"Eat it," I command, grinding my hips down onto her mouth.
I pull my shorts to the side, exposing my dripping pussy to the air. The scent of my arousal hits me instantly, mixing with the smell of the machinery. I lower myself onto her face, smothering her. Her tongue is hot and eager, lapping at my folds, digging into my hole.
I grab the roll bar above the windshield for leverage, my knuckles white, and ride her face.
"That's it, you little slut," I moan, my head falling back. "Lick that cunt. Make me fucking drown you."
I can feel her nose pressing against my clit, the friction sending fabulous jolts up my spine. She's whimpering into my pussy, the vibrations making my knees weak.
I grind harder, rubbing my juices all over her chin, covering her in my scent. Every thrust of my hips is a punishment for the day she's put me through.
I pull back just enough to reach into my back pocket, pulling out the small harness I'd stashed there earlier—a precaution, a hope. I didn't think I'd need it this soon. I shimmy into it quickly, the straps biting into my hips, the thick silicone cock jutting out obscenely in the dim light of the cabin.
Caitlin looks up at me, her face glistening with my wetness, her eyes wide and dilated. She looks wrecked already, but we're just getting started.
"Turn over," I order.
She obeys instantly, scrambling onto her hands and knees on the seat, her ass pointing toward me. It's a tight fit, her knees pressed against the door, her hands gripping the top of the steering wheel. I spit on the dildo, lubing it up, and then grab her hips.
"Fuck the canola," I mutter, lining the head up with her entrance. I thrust in hard, burying the cock to the hilt in one brutal motion.
She screams, her back arching, her knuckles turning white on the wheel. "Yes! Fuck me, Emma! Harder!"
I don't hold back. I pound into her, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the metal cabin. The harvester rocks slightly with every thrust, adding to the surreal, dangerous feeling of it. I reach around, finding her clit, and rub it in tight, fast circles while I slam into her from behind.
"Take this cock," I grunt, sweat dripping from my nose onto her back. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be fucked like a dirty farm dog?"
Her body starts to shake, her muscles clamping down on the dildo. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." she chokes out. I don't let up. I fuck her through it, relentless.
With a guttural cry, she gushes, her cum squirting out of her, soaking the leather seat beneath us, dripping down her thighs. It's a mess, a beautiful, filthy mess. I feel her convulsing, her whole body surrendering to the orgasm, and it pushes me over the edge.
My own pussy clenches around nothing, waves of pleasure crashing through me as I grind the harness against her one last time.
We collapse together on the seat, a tangled heap of limbs and sweat and sex. The air in the cabin is heavy now, thick with the smell of cum and diesel.
I'm breathing hard, my chest heaving against her back. Outside, the canola fields stretch out endlessly under the baking sun, but in here, the world has narrowed down to just this.
Just us.
I brush a damp lock of hair away from her neck and press a kiss to her shoulder, feeling the rapid thud of her heart against my lips.
The teasing is over.
For now, I've won.