Page 13 of Stalked By the Farmer

With a groan, I wrap my hand around my length and begin to stroke. It's not enough, but it will have to do. I fuck my fist hard and fast, chasing my release.

"Misty," I pant, lost in my fantasy. In my mind's eye, she's here with me, naked and willing. I imagine the feel of her in my arms, the taste of her mouth, the tight heat of her sex.

Pressure builds at the base of my spine, pleasure and guilt warring within me. But the need to come is too great. With a shout, I climax, spilling my seed over my knuckles.

In the aftermath, shame washes over me. I'm disgusting, a pervert.

But I can't stop myself.

The next night, I sneak out of my room after midnight and make my way to Misty's farm under cover of darkness. Her bedroom window is dark, but I know she's in there, sleeping peacefully.

My heart aches with longing to see her, to hear her voice. I ache to hold her in my arms as a lover would. But I content myself with watching over her, as I have so many nights before.

Standing in the shadows, I keep vigil until dawn begins to lighten the sky. Then I slip away before I can be seen, returning home to catch a few hours of troubled sleep.

The days pass in a blur as I work my farm and sell produce to raise money for Misty's family.

At night I return to watch Misty's window, sometimes daring to get close enough to see her sleeping form. The sight of her drives me nearly mad. I long to wake her with a kiss, to slip my cock in between her virgin thigs, to taste her sweet cherry before I pop it.

My love is twisted and wrong, the product of an unhealthy mind. Were Misty to discover the truth, it would only serve to frighten and disgust her.

And so I am trapped, torn between the longing of my heart and the dictates of conscience. I love Misty with all my soul, and always will—but it is a love that can never find fulfillment or peace.

All that sustains me is the secret knowledge that, in some small way, I am helping Misty. If I can make her life easier, protect her from hardship, then my suffering will not be in vain. She will never be mine to love as I wish—but in this, at least, I can be her silent champion. Her guardian in the dark.

* * *

Weeks pass in a blur of sleepless nights and furtive trips to Misty's farm. My body aches from exhaustion, yet still I push onward, driven by a love that knows no bounds.

The weather is turning colder now, winter fast approaching, and I worry Misty's family won't have enough to get by. I sell off the last of my livestock and pour the earnings into a bundle for Misty, hoping against hope it will be enough.

When I arrive at the farmhouse late that night, a single light is still shining in Misty's bedroom. I freeze in my tracks, panic seizing my chest—has she discovered my secret at last? Summoning my courage, I creep toward the house and peer through Misty's window.

She is seated at her desk, sobbing softly. My heart shatters into a thousand pieces, and it takes everything in me not to break throug the window to get to her.

Why won't she come to me? Becuase I ruined our friendship? Does she fear me that much after that kiss at the fair? Doesn't she know I'd still be there for her?

I firm my jaw and make my way home. It's time to put my girl's fears to rest.

CHAPTEREIGHT

Misty

The phone jolts me awake.Groaning, I grab it and mumble a greeting.

"Misty, it's Dad. The farm's been paid off."

My eyes fly open as his words register. "What? How?"

"Some anonymous donor paid the entire mortgage. We went to the bank today to ask for another extension and found out the debt has been cleared."

I sit up, heart pounding. "That's impossible. Who would do that?"

"We have no idea. The bank wouldn't give us any details." Dad sounds as stunned as I feel. "I know it's strange, but we're out of debt. I can't believe our luck."

"Yeah," I say faintly. "Luck."

We hang up and I stare at the phone, mind racing. Who would pay off my parents' farm, and why? I have to get to the bottom of this.

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