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Amarna Sparrow

Jem sat with his back propped against the dry-stone wall as he allowed the sun to warm his rugged, weather-beaten face. Looking out over the landscape he watched his flock of sheep wander from one grazing spot to another as Jess his border collie sniffed along the wall before returning to lay by his side. His real name was James, but ever since he was a child, he had been called “Jem”.

In his sixty-two years, he had loved and hated this landscape in equal measure. The farm and the land he tended were miles from anywhere and it had taken time to adapt to this kind of solitary existence. He ruffled the dog’s fur as he closed his eyes for five minutes and allowed his mind to wander.

As far as he knew, he had been born on the farm. He remembered little of those first few years, unable to even recollect the birth of his sister who had suddenly come along just before his second birthday. He knew that he once had a father, because his mother would mention him on occasions, but he had no memory of him other than the few photographs his mother kept on the dressing table upstairs in her bedroom.

The farm belonged to his mother and before that, her parents, having previously been passed on by her grandparents. As far as he knew, it had been in their family for generations and would one day be his to manage, his mother had told him.

As a toddler he would follow her around the farmyard and by the age of four, he was already assisting her with small chores, helping to feed the animals in their pens or collecting eggs from the coup. Back then, he loved the land and location. He was free to run wild, to explore the outbuildings and wander the fields, going with his mother as they checked on their flock of sheep or brought in, their small herd of cows.

And then suddenly he was made to leave her each day as school beckoned. In winter she would run him down the mile-long lane in the “Land Rover” to meet the school bus and she would be sat there each afternoon when he had finished to take him back up to the farm. At the time it seemed unfair that his sister Bab’s, short for Barbara, was allowed to stay at home while he was sent off each day.

In summer, his mother would drive him down the lane in the morning and he would walk back in the afternoon, kicking stones and rooting in the hedgerows as he made the return journey. Eventually, the time came for Bab’s to accompany him, and he remembered her tears on that first morning as his mother drove back up the lane and left them waiting for the bus. It was at moments like those that he hated where they lived.

As he and his sister got older, both of them would help around the farm with the jobs, but overall and especially during the many holidays, they were free to roam across the idyllic landscape. There was always somewhere to go and something to do. Fishing in the several ponds in the adjoining fields, streams to splash and swim in and woods to explore. Those were the times he loved and was thankful for where they lived.

As he and his sister got older still and started secondary school, he hated where they lived with an unbridled passion. At school they had friends, but at home, there were no friends, no mates, no one ever visited, it was too far out of the way. What friend wanted a five-mile hike from town and then another mile up the lane to reach the farm. Buses ran sporadically past the bottom of their lane, if you were lucky, maybe every couple of hours with the last one just before six o’clock in the evening.

Going out with friends in town was something that neither he nor his sister had ever bothered with, it was too much of a chore. Perhaps in a way, it was for the best he realised as he got older because his family lived a lifestyle that was somewhat different from what others of his age did.

There had been slip-ups at school when he was young and would mention something only to be greeted by raised eyebrows. His mother instilled into both of them never to discuss their home life away from the farm, and for very good reason he later understood.

Even at secondary school, there was still the occasional slip of the tongue and other students would look at him strangely. Both he and Bab’s finally got used to keeping their home life secret because people did not understand the way they lived.

Growing up on the farm, there had been the normal inquisitiveness, especially when they saw what the animals got up to, but their mother would never countenance those types of behaviour.

And so, their life continued until Jem reached the age of eighteen. He had been in the barn, hidden behind the bales of hay, or so he thought as he beat one out, his hand rapidly sliding up and down his shaft as he masturbated, the sensation in his cock and bollocks growing substantially as his climax neared.

He had no idea how long his mother may have been watching him, it wasn’t until she coughed that he realised she was there and by then it was too late as cum erupted from the tip queenbet yeni giriş of his cock, spurting out onto the barn floor.

‘There is a time and a place for that,’ she had told him. ‘Anyway, what if it were your sister that had seen you, what then? She is far too young yet to be seeing things like that.’

Despite being embarrassed, he had of course continued with his self-indulgence, secreting himself away in his bedroom as he enjoyed new pleasures. But his mother was no fool, she knew that he continued to masturbate. She had come to his room one night and sat on the end of his bed as she had explained that it was perfectly natural and not something to be ashamed of.

‘It’s something all men do,’ she had said, ‘Women as well. I masturbate when the urge takes me, and in all probability, it is something your sister will do at some point. No one is going to tell you it is wrong, not in this house at least.’

With this newfound knowledge, he suddenly saw his mother in a different light, his curiosity piqued as to what she did when she masturbated. He began to imagine her naked and touching herself, his cock growing hard at the images in his head.

Without any embarrassment, he had gone to her room one evening, several months after she had caught him and bluntly asked if he could watch the next time that she masturbated herself. The request to him had seemed the most normal thing in the world to ask and would help satisfy the pervasive imagery that had become part of daily life.

Gwen, his mother had readily agreed, telling him that the next time she had the urge he could sit and watch her. It had been late, nearly a week later and he had forgotten about his request when she had come to his room while the house was quiet and taking him by the hand, she had led him to her bedroom.

There was a chair set up at the side of her bed and he watched as she unbuttoned her housecoat before laying naked in the centre of the mattress. He had been mesmerised as she began to run her hands up and down her body, slowly beginning to excite herself.

His pyjama bottoms did nothing to hide the erection that suddenly appeared as she fondled her breasts and played with her nipples. His mother was a good-looking woman, her body still well defined despite her age, helped by the work involved each day in the running of their farm.

As she opened her legs wider and slid her hand over her vagina, she turned her head to look at him, immediately noticing the expanding bulge in his lap. ‘You can play with yourself at the same time if you wish to,’ she had told him as she began to stroke her cunt with a single finger, sliding it between her fanny lips.

Without further ado, he had slipped out of his pyjama bottoms as he slumped back in the chair and started sliding his hand up and down his rigid shaft. At her urging, he had slowed his masturbation as she stared constantly at his throbbing meat, groans of pleasure slipping from her lips as her eyes fluttered.

Despite his rapidly increasing arousal and the desire to reach out and touch her, he continued to sit in the chair and wank himself. He had asked to watch her; he had said nothing about touching her and so stuck with what she had offered.

He was nearly there, the constant tightness of his twitching cock and bollocks informing him that he would ejaculate shortly. His mother cautioned him, asking him to last a little longer, her cunt now full of fingers as she screwed her face up and pummelled her opening. Loud squelching noises could be heard along with the heavy breathing as both of them approached their climax.

As she cried her release, spurts of cum flowed from the tip of his shaft, splashing his stomach, and running down over his hand as he continued to tug at his cock furiously.

With their bodies now relaxing, she had handed him some tissues to wipe himself with, using a wad of them to dab between her open legs. At last, he arose from the chair, retrieved his pyjama bottoms, and kissed her cheek before heading back to his own room. He would ask her again tomorrow he had decided, acknowledging that it had been far more satisfying watching her finger herself than wanking on his own.

Early the next morning, they’d had a whispered conversation at the breakfast table as he asked his mother if he could watch her again the next time she masturbated, or better still, if she didn’t mind, would he possibly be able to touch her.

Bab’s of course had been inquisitive, wanting to know what they were talking about, but her mother had refused to say, and the conversation had ended. Bab’s had sulked for the rest of the morning, trying to get Jem to tell her, but his mother had sworn him to secrecy and her promise to think about his request had kept him like that.

Jem opened his eyes and stood as he came back to reality. His joints seemed to creak a little more nowadays as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his watery eyes before setting queenbet giriş off back towards the farm with Jess following at his heels.

Sat in his armchair that evening next to the fire, he closed his eyes and dozed. His mind wandered once more back to his youth and growing up on the farm.

From time to time, they would have farmhands for short periods who would help with the jobs, especially when the cows were carving, or the sheep were lambing. Outwardly, they were no different from any other farming family and they all gave the impression of normality when others were around.

He had been invited to his mother’s room on numerous occasions since that first time, to watch her play with herself, on other occasions she would come to his room as she did the same and watched him masturbate himself. She said she was still considering his request about being able to touch her and would let him know in due course.

It had been the middle of summer when she had, at last, come to him one night and in a whisper, told him to dress. Pulling on shorts and a t-shirt, he had followed her quietly as they descended and exited the house. Together they kept to the shadows as they crossed the farmyard and into an adjacent field.

The night was warm and quiet, the sky clear and full of stars as they walked a short distance before Gwen had pulled him down onto the grass. ‘Are you sure you want to touch me?’ she had asked. Jem nodding his head vigorously at her question.

In the darkness, she had pulled his face towards her until suddenly their lips had met. He hadn’t considered this when he’d made his request, but as his mother kissed him, he began to respond to her, their mouths moving together and then her tongue teasing his lips before plunging into his mouth.

His erection was almost instantaneous, especially when she took his hand and raised it to her breast. Through her cotton t-shirt, he could tell at once that she was bra-less, his hand feeling the protrusion of her hard-erect nipple. Even though he instinctively knew what was expected of him, nonetheless Gwen instructed him on how she liked to be touched and what he should do.

When she pulled the t-shirt over her head and exposed her tits to him, the throbbing in his shorts became painful and insistent. His mother had asked him to undress, her eyes locking onto his twitching shaft as he got rid of his shorts. Grasping him firmly, she had begun to toss him off, but for Jem, it had all been too much. The sensations that soared through his body as his mother touched his cock had him ejaculating in seconds as cum spurted all over her hand.

She hadn’t scolded him and was not disappointed as with a soft laugh she told him it was ok. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It quite often happens the first time, it’s just all the excitement.’

Removing her clothes, she used his t-shirt to wipe her hand before laying back in the grass and invited him to touch her. He was nervous at first but under her soft words and tuition, he was soon caressing her breasts, his mouth nuzzling her teat’s as she moaned with pleasure at his touch.

Gwen guided his hand over her slightly rounded belly until he encountered her pubes, his fingers lingering there for seconds before she eased it between her legs and made his first contact with her vagina. It felt like nothing he had touched before as he stroked her in the same way that he had watched her touch herself.

His finger slid between her fanny lips, her juices lubricating the digit and then with very little effort, he slid it inside her cunt. His mother’s hips lifted from the ground as his finger entered her, a cry of delight springing from her lips.

With her remarks and praise, he fingered her, her hips responding to the constant penetration of her passage. She pulled his head down as they kissed once more, his other hand going up to her breast as he kneaded the flesh of her tits.

The very fact of her increasing excitement and the touch of her naked skin soon had him hard once more, only this time as his mother’s fingers wrapped around his girth and tossed him off, he found it much easier to control the sensations. His administrations and her skilful hands soon had both of them highly aroused as she withdrew his finger and dragged him on top of her.

Kneeling between her open thighs, he fumbled at first, but his mother helped him to position himself and then the greatest sensation he had ever experienced happened as his cock slid inside her cunt. She had kept his rhythm constant as he ploughed her fanny, her encouragement now coarse as she told him what she wanted him to do to her.

When he fucked her too fast, she slowed him down, when he idled, she speeded him up. He soon got the hang of what his mother liked as his cock was rammed into her now wet cunt once more. And then she was calling to him, telling him that she was ready as his hips became a blur, his cock plunging in and out of her cunt as he shagged queenbet güvenilirmi her as though his life depended on it.

As his cock twitched and filled her passage with his seed, he was rewarded as she arched her back and called out his name, her body going rigid as she orgasmed.

Slumped side by side as they recovered, he had made her laugh when he said, ‘I wish we could do that every night.’ She had told him it wouldn’t be every night, but that she had been suitably impressed with him and she would see what she could do.

Jem came awake as someone shook his shoulder. ‘Come on you old bugger, it’s time for bed,’ his missus said as she finished tidying up. He chuckled to himself as he followed her bottom up the stairs, his musings had left him with an urge down below. ‘She’s in for a surprise tonight,’ he had murmured to himself.

Over the next year, he and his mother had fucked regularly, on warm summer nights they would go out into the fields. When the weather was inclement but still warm enough, they used the barn and when it was too cold outside, she allowed him to share her bed.

The work on the farm was never-ending, you didn’t get days off and there was no such thing as weekends. Every day of the year, the animals needed tending too, at times like those he hated the life he had been born into. But then when he shared his mother’s bed and body, he was grateful for their isolation and would not have changed anything.

The last couple of years had been hard, really hard. Jem wasn’t getting any younger and the heavy snowfall of the last two winters was slowly taking its toll on him. They had lost several ewes each time, the poor animals lost in the snowbanks that had built up in places. They had saved as many as they could but sometimes the animals were their own worst enemies.

With the cows milked and out in the pasture, he cleaned their stalls and washed everything down. Calling Jess, he got his stick and set off for the top field on his quad bike to inspect his flock and see what new lambs had been born. At this time of year, they nearly looked after themselves, but he had to keep an eye on any ewe’s that were struggling and get them down to the lambing shed.

At least with the quad bike, he didn’t have to make the long walk anymore which made it easier for him and the others would take care of the jobs down below. Jess sat on the carrier at the back, eager to be out, but just like himself, the dog was showing signs of her age.

He’d brought a flask with him today as he sat in his favourite spot and had a cup of tea, his mind drifting back once more. It was something he found himself doing a lot lately, his mind wandering as he remembered his younger days, and the fun they’d all had as well as the mishaps that had befallen them if you could call them mishaps.

He remembered just after Barbara’s eighteenth birthday, in one respect, just another normal day on the farm with chores that needed to be completed. She had rushed that morning getting her jobs done, something that never normally happened, and had then come and given him a hand. Jem initially had been suspicious, but she had said and done nothing to confirm his feelings.

At one point even his mother had told Bab’s to slow down, that things would happen in due course, Jem wondering what they knew that he didn’t. Gwen had an inkling as to why her daughter was in a constant rush that morning, she had come of age, she was eighteen now and she suspected that her daughter had a particular birthday present in mind.

It was mid-afternoon before most of the jobs were finished and Jem had announced that he was setting off for the tops fields to check on the flock of sheep. Bab’s had called out that she was joining him, and he noticed that she had looked to his mother who had given an imperceptible nod of her head.

Gwen now knew exactly what her daughter intended to do. She had no qualms about allowing them to have sex, how could she when she was allowing her son to abuse her body. She had never started with that intention, only to give them both confidence in themselves and their bodies, but there was no denying that she enjoyed her son fucking her.

His sister had been full of nervous energy, constantly chattering as she linked his arm on the walk up the high hills. As they stood in the field and surveyed the flock, she could not contain herself any longer.

‘I know what you and mum have been doing. Please, Jem…… do the same for me.’

Before he could reply she had wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It had taken him by surprise, but as she pressed her body against his, and especially her more than ample bosom, Jem knew he wouldn’t refuse her.

Bab’s was trying to undress him as she chased him around the field, Jem teasing her and making her wait.

When she did manage to catch him, he wrestled her to the ground, sitting on top of her and pinning her hands and arms to her side. Initially, she squirmed, but as he started to push her top up, she lay back and allowed him. Barbara was breathing quickly as he exposed her breasts, the slight breeze making her nipples harden instantly as he ran a finger over each one, rubbing softly as she closed her eyes and licked her lips.

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