Sweat dripped off of Ken's nose as he drove the combine through the wheat. He was high up on one of the giant sloping hills that formed the Palouse. This was southeastern Washington wheat country. Farms here were measured in tens of thousands of acres. Ken was working his father's farm which totaled eighty thousand acres. He was flanked by ten combines all busily harvesting wheat. The sun beat down relentlessly and the cab of the combine was oven hot. The dust kicked up by the harvesters seemed to find its way into everything. By the end of the fourteen hour day, Ken was caked in the mud that formed from his sweat and the dust.
He drove the combine to the parking area and got out, heading for his pickup. "Hey there buddy!" yelled Larry, one of the other combine operators, "How about we go have a beer."
"Not tonight," Ken replied. "I've got to get his dirt off me. I'll see ya tomorrow."
He jumped in his truck and drove out of the field. He had a room at his dad's house over the garage. He parked in the driveway and sprinted up the steps, quickly shedding his clothes, he jumped into the shower. The water was cold. He didn't care; at least it was wet and was washing the days work from his lithe body. After half an hour of careful scrubbing he was ready for a nap. He had to be in the field at four in the morning.
He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
The days plodded on. Ken had no days off. The wheat was ready and it wouldn't wait. Finally, three weeks later it was over.
"Dad, you've got to air condition those combines. We're dying out there. I damned near fainted twenty times this harvest."
Ken's father was one of those old tough guys that you read about but seldom see. "Don't be a pussy Ken. It's always been hot in those rigs."
"Yeah but now with the enclosed cabs it's like operating an oven. Someone's gonna get hurt. Then what happens to your insurance? In the long run, it'll save you money."
"Hmmm, I hadn't thought about that. Maybe we'll fix it this winter."
'That's great dad. I'm going to see Mary Beth."
"Have a good time son."
Mary Beth Richards was also from a farming family. She lived ten miles from Ken Peter's farm. Her father only owned five thousand acres but he leased another ten thousand. Ken drove into the yard. Mary Beth had seen him coming and was waiting for him at the door. She jumped off the porch and into his arms almost knocking him over. "Ken honey!!" she squealed excitedly. "It's been way too long."
"We just finished up yesterday," Ken explained. He kissed her full on the lips as they walked into the house.
"Daddy's finishing up tomorrow. Mama's in town buying groceries. What can we do to amuse ourselves?" she asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
They sat on the couch. Mary Beth was on his lap. She could feel his growing erection on her bottom. She smiled at him and wiggled.
"Very cute!" Ken exclaimed. "What are you trying to do to me?"
"Who me? I'm not the one with the extra hard weeny poking someone's butt."
"If you don't stop wiggling, it'll be poking more than your butt!"
"Oh yeah? Show me," she challenged.
Ken wrapped his big, strong arms around her and squeezed. His hands ran up and down her back as she started to writhe, anticipating the pleasure that was to come. He rolled her over on the couch and unbuttoned her blouse. "Hmm, no bra, huh? Who were you expecting?"
