Just a son-in-law.

— Eh-he-he! Our sins are heavy!

A man around fifty years old, of sturdy build, was groaning as he climbed the ladder. He needed to throw down the hay from the loft and stack it in the barn. No matter how you slice it, the cow, the calf, and the other sheep and goats eat like there's no tomorrow. You just have to keep up.

strong, the picture of health. And how did his son dare to leave her? It's a young woman's business: if you don't keep an eye on her, she might get up to something. And then what?

Just look, a fool was born. And who does he take after? Who indeed? His late wife. She bore two children but never gained any sense. Always had her head in the clouds. And he loved her. And spoiled her.

Except she wouldn't wash her feet.

Although, no, she did. That was when she was heavily pregnant and couldn't even bend over to wash her feet herself. And it was never enough for her. She always dreamed of a prince. She didn't marry for love, you see. And who dragged her by force? She could have just said no. And the girl takes entirely after her mother. She barely got married before she was already divorced. And his son, well, he's a good-for-nothing too. He wanted money and an easy life. Fly, my little falcon, seek your fortune. Just don't lose what you have chasing the blue bird. And he has nothing, that woman. He looked at her and felt a stirring in his pants. It had been a long time since he'd held anyone, lifted anyone's skirt. In the village, you can't really fool around, everyone's watching. Before he retired, at least at work he could occasionally sidle up to some woman. The man is sturdy, none of them ever complained.

And here he's been without a woman for so long. They've started coming to him in his dreams, just like when he was a lad. And she's not bad, that daughter-in-law, shapely. He'd like to lay her out on the hay. Or bend her over, set her from behind and drive it in with all his might. So she'd gasp. And give her a good drilling. She probably wants it too. It's hard without a man. If she were a maiden, but she's a woman, she's already tried the cock. And to be honest, that son of his is quite the fuck-up.

In one house, you can hear everything. He'd fumble around in the evening and then flop down to sleep. And then the woman rages during the day. And God didn't bless him with a knack for housekeeping. He takes after his mother, not his father. Fine-boned, puny himself. It's like he's not even his own, as if the late wife had him with someone else. But the girl takes after me. Broad-boned, strong. In the rear, in the chest, in height—all her father. A grenadier, damn him. So the man probably ran away out of fear. If one like that gets going, it won't be a small thing. But she's not bad, the young daughter-in-law.

He threw down the hay. Climbed down himself. And he groaned not so much from old age as from the habit of pretending to be feeble. On such a one, you could still plow and plow. He started stacking the hay. The daughter-in-law milked the cow and took the milk to the house.

— Hey, Lenka, take the milk, and grab some warm water when you come back.

— Do we need it, father?

Look at that, 'father'. A respectful girl, set herself up that way from the first day. Polite. Not like some flighty birds.

— Yeah, we probably do.

— Just a moment, I'll only take the milk.

— And tell Tanka to set up the separator and run the milk through.

— Alright.

She returned. Brought the water. The cow likes a warm drink. And the calves too. Look how they suck. The daughter-in-law leaned over the pen, her dress riding up, exposing her rear. A firm backside, just begging to be grabbed, squeezed. And look what she's doing. She didn't wear any panties at all. And how is a father-in-law supposed to restrain himself? Something seemed to short-circuit in his head. He pressed down on the daughter-in-law, hiking her skirt up further. Holding her back with one hand, not letting her straighten up, he tore at the belt on his trousers with the other hand, tore at the buttons, trying to undo his fly. The daughter-in-law squealed

— What are you doing? Let me go! Don't do this! Ah! Mama!

What mama is going to hear in the barn. He managed the fastenings, yanked his trousers down, freeing himself from them. His cock jumped out and swayed, engorged with blood, ready for battle. And while the daughter-in-law kicked futilely, trying to break free from his strong hands, trying to straighten up, he forced her legs apart and, placing the head at the moist and so-desired entrance now, thrust his hips forward, driving his weapon in to the hilt. She only gasped, trembled, feeling the foreign object inside her, tried to free herself from it.

He'd broken in fillies that weren't like this. More spirited ones had come his way. Grabbing her by the hips, he impaled this young body on his cock. Again and again, as if driving in a stake. The daughter-in-law wasn't squealing anymore, only gasping with each thrust. It was understandable: the tool was decent. Not so much in length as in thickness. It wouldn't fit in a glass. Feeling the eruption approaching, he sped up his thrusts. And here it was, the climax.

Semen burst out in spurts, filling the daughter-in-law. It even went dark before his eyes. How long had he held back? How much had he accumulated? It seemed there would be no end to it. And barely had he stopped shuddering, pouring his seed into the daughter-in-law, when he felt his tool, having barely begun to soften, returning to battle readiness. This had happened to him before. And before the little daughter-in-law had recovered from the first time, he started moving for a second.

Now the cock slid easily along the interior well-lubricated with his seed. The semen churned into foam, came out, forming a ring around the shaft. The daughter-in-law, resigned to her defeat, tried to extract some benefit from the situation. The cock went in and out with a smacking sound. And the little daughter-in-law started moving her rear, helping her father-in-law. Or maybe just enjoying herself.

Snuffling, the daughter-in-law's thin moans, sounding from time to time, the sighs of the animals, watching the people's actions with curiosity. And so he relieved himself of seed a second time. He let go of the daughter-in-law. She lay on the pen for a while longer, straightened up, smoothed down her skirt

— You're an animal, father! Why did you have to do that? If you had asked, I wouldn't have refused.

— Consider that I asked.

— And now my dress is torn. What now?

— Tomorrow you'll take some money and buy a new one.

— Really?

— Really.

She was silent for a bit.

— And now, whenever you want, just say, I'll give it myself.

She thought about something else, wrinkling her brow

— What if I get pregnant?

— Well, then you'll give birth. Good for you and a joy for me.

— And when your son comes, what do I tell him?

— When he comes, he'll leave. He abandoned you himself. If you want—you can go with him. If not, then live with me. You'll be my wife.

— But I'm married.

— Get a divorce.

— No, I'll wait. But I'll always give it to you. You, compared to your son, are a real man. I thought you'd turn my uterus inside out. And you cleaned everything out in there. It was starting to get cobwebs.

— You'll sleep with me tonight. We haven't finished cleaning yet.

— As you say. Let me wash you. There's warm water.

— Well, wash me.

Spreading his legs, he waited while the daughter-in-law washed his equipment, wiped it with a rag. She finished and while the man was fastening his pants, she squatted, a stream gurgled, urinating on the barn floor, then splashed water, washing herself.

At night, when he was starting to fall asleep, someone crept into his room, slipped under the blanket, pressed a naked body against him. Clearly who, the sweet little daughter-in-law came to visit her father-in-law. He turned to face her, embraced her, pressed down, dropping her onto her back. The daughter-in-law willingly spread her legs.