I don’t know how long I sit there in her driveway, one hand gripping my cock as the cum I spilled all over myself dries. Finally opening my eyes, I look down at my other hand and see the phone with her picture still showing. My cock comes back to life at the vision, and I groan.
I just had the hardest orgasm of my life and the mere thought of Dolly has my dick ready for another round. I could do this all night and we’d never be satisfied. I’d be rubbed raw before he ever got tired of her.
What am I going to do? I toss the phone onto the dash and fix myself before starting up the truck again and heading down the rest of the drive. When I get to the end, I just sit there, unwilling to leave. I grip the steering wheel so hard my hands start to ache.
With all the self-control I can muster, I make myself pull from her driveway, heading back towards the farm instead of the hotel I’d planned on staying at. It’s closer to my little lamb and my control is splintering.
She’s too young for you, I tell myself over and over. It doesn’t matter how much she wants you. This is better for her. I should let her go, but even thinking that is like a sucker punch to my gut.
Her final words don’t help, either. That she’d always want me, but she wouldn't wait. If I know one thing about Dolly, she means what she says. I think it would kill me to see her on some other man’s arm. But isn't that what I wanted? For her to move on from me? Forget this schoolgirl crush and find a man more suited to her?
When I finally pull up to my house, I get out of my truck and look at the building. It looks nothing like a real home. Not like Dolly’s, where flowers wrap around the whole house. Where chairs sit on the front porch and cute little ornaments welcome you in. It’s clear that someone loves it.
Mine has nothing. It doesn’t look anything close to lived-in. It’s just a simple log cabin. Maybe it’s because I never really knew what a home looked like, so I didn’t put much into it. I went from a rundown home I lived in with my father, to a bunkhouse with a bunch of other men. Then finally to this place.
I’d never thought much about it before tonight. Until I stood on Dolly’s porch and saw her things. It was a place made for a family. One she’d probably raise hers in.
“Fuck!” I bellow, before I drive my fist into my front door. Pain shoots through my hand, and it’s a nice distraction from thinking about my little lamb having a family with another man. Growing his baby in her belly.
I have to stop thinking about her with someone else, because that’s not something I can bear to see. Maybe it’s time to move on. Get the hell out of this town and as far away as possible from all this pain that’s creeping up on me.
4
Dolly
It’s been a couple of days, and I’m finally done sulking. I don’t want to chase after Brandon, and I won’t, but it sure stings not having him return my feelings. Or at least not admitting to them. He wants me just as bad as I want him, that’s for damn sure. He just doesn’t think he’s good enough for me. And the saddest part is, as long as he thinks that, he’s right.
I can’t go chasing him down. I might normally fight for things I want, but I’ve been waiting for him for years, and I won’t chase him. He’s known how I’ve felt forever. It’s not like I’ve been hiding it. It doesn’t take much for people to see when I want something, because I let it be known.
I don’t want my baby-daddy thinking he’s not good enough for me. I want Brandon to treat me like a queen, fuck me like he owns me, and love me like a goddess. Is that so much to ask? Maybe it is. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe Brandon doesn’t want me as much as I thought he did. I know I’m not bad on the eyes, but my mouth and attitude are a whole other rodeo.
I always say what I’m thinking. It just comes right out of my mouth. Growing up with three brothers and more ranch hands than I could count, my language isn’t the best, and I can be just as crude as the next cowboy, even if my virtue is still intact. Not that I want it to be. I kept thinking Brandon would come and take it. I’ve thought of a thousand different ways that might happen. Some of them rough and hard, coming out of nowhere, and others a slow, sweet seduction. I like both options, because either way, I getting him, which is all I ever wanted.
I decide to start my week off with a new attitude and get ready for work. I could let myself think about this all day if I don’t stop myself. I pull on some old jeans and throw on a wife-beater before gathering my hair into a ponytail and putting on my boots. I hop into my Gator and head to the barns to check on my girls.
My dairy farm is nothing but Jersey heifers. Ever since my older brother Ty got me a dairy cow for my sixth birthday, I’ve been obsessed with the beautiful tan cows with big bright eyes. Doesn’t hurt that I fucking love cheese.
My mom and dad started this dairy farm before they passed away. They had everything in place, and my brothers kept it running until I was eighteen and wanted to take it over full time on my own. Even though they were still pushing me to go to college and I was taking a few online classes just to keep them off my ass, I knew that was where I wanted to be.
Why did everyone seem to think they knew what was best for me and that I didn’t have a mind of my own? No one got all pissy when my brothers didn’t go to college. I’m sure as shit no girl they ever tried to date said they couldn’t for any kind of reason.
When I make it over to the barn, Mark, my foreman, waves hello. He gives me the rundown for the day, and I look over the production, making sure everything is in line like it should be. The Dairy Queen operates mostly without me now, because I have good people in place. We have a routine, and it works. It took a little money and a lot of hard work to get it here, but now everything has a nice flow. But the farmer in me is always up before the sun to check on things. I’ve had it drilled into me since I was a baby, and there’s no use changing it now.