I can’t see a thing. But I can feel everything.

Her body, her pleasure. Every sudden intake of her breath and little twitch of her muscles.

It’s just like how I imagined fucking Kimber would be like, right down to the pinch of her nails digging into my chest and the feel of her tight body writhing on me. I don’t even give a shit that I can’t see it. I wouldn’t change a thing about this, no matter how much she may doubt that.

“Is this okay?” she asks, her hips gently grinding as she rides me.

I laugh out loud. How can I not?

“It’s more than okay,” I say. I feel up her body to cup her breasts. “Do what makes you feel good.”

“But does it feel good for you? Am I going too slow?”

“Kimber,” I laugh again, “trust me, nothing you do right now is going to feel bad for me.”

She chuckles. “Is that a challenge?”

I pause. “Okay, suddenly feeling very vulnerable with this blindfold on...”

Her hips rise and my cock slides out of her. “Oh, yeah?” she asks, her voice light and playful.

I make grabby hands at her. “Wait, where are you going—”

She dodges out of my grasp.

“Kimber.”

“Shh...” she whispers, her voice down near my feet. “You’ll be okay.”

“But what are you doing?”

She doesn’t answer. I feel her moving upward, her warm breath touching my thighs. I hold still, torn between just going with it and bolting for what I hope is the door.

“Kimber?” I ask again.

Something touches my cock. Light and smooth. A warm flick around the base.

Her tongue.

“Oh, okay...” I settle in.

Kimber chuckles as her lips slide up my shaft, tongue gliding along my glans.

I grunt a silent thank you for the blindfold. I know if I could see this, Kimber’s little, blue eyes peeking up at me, her pink mouth open wide for me, I’d come without a second thought. Hell, it’s hard enough not to imagine it and unload right now as it is.

Her open mouth wraps around my tip and I take in a sharp breath.

“Fuck...” I mutter, blood pumping through me.

She teases me, lightly lapping and kissing. Doing every little thing she can short of sucking me right off. My tip throbs. My balls rise and tighten. Her palms come to lie on my abs and I lay back, completely under her control.

She bobs suddenly, taking me almost all the way into her throat and I jerk in surprise.

“Whoa—”

She puts pressure on my chest, holding me down as she sucks harder up and down my cock. Life surges through my groin, welcoming a sweet finish but I don’t want this to end.

“Kimber,” I groan.

She moans, vibrating my shaft and tickling my nerves.

I reach down, finding her left hand on my body. She turns her palm up and holds my hand, entwining my fingers as she bobs her head faster.

“I’m coming,” I tell her, my voice as heavy as my body.

She pulses my hand, giving me permission, and tightens her lips around my tip.

I come with a deep, satisfying grunt. She catches my cum on her tongue, continuing to suck lightly until she knows I’m finished. As she rises, she sits back on her knees but keeps that tight hold on my hand. I don’t want to let her go, either.

I pull her toward me and she slides closer. She lays down beside me and rests her head on my shoulder. We relax, breathing steadily with our hands on each other. I kiss her forehead. Her lips press into my chest. She draws lines along my pec with her finger. I see nothing. I feel everything.

“Is this okay?” she asks.

I laugh out loud. How can I not?

* * *

I stare out across the fields. It’s just before sunrise. Crickets still chirp like crazy in my ears but it doesn’t bug me nearly as much as it did a week ago. Strange how quickly you get used to that noise again. I raise my mug and take a slow sip of coffee. It’s going cold but I don’t mind. The air is warm so it balances out.

The front door opens and my mother walks out with her own mug, looking worn and tired. Her eyes fall on me and she stops dead in her tracks.

I wave at her, smiling wide. “G’morning.”

“Good morning,” she says. “What are you doing out here?”

“Figured I’d watch the sunrise,” I say.

Her brow rises with suspicion but she takes her seat beside me on the porch swing.

We sit in silence for a minute or so, just staring out at the land and drinking coffee. The sky fades from black to blue to another blue. Soon, it’ll be brighter. Like Kimber’s eyes.

“You got something on your mind?”

I blink out of it. “Not really,” I answer, raising my mug. “Why?”

“You seem pensive,” she says. “More so than usual.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“That VanHouten twit offer you something?”

“What?” I shake my head. “No.”

“Well, there must be some reason why you’re up before me on a Sunday morning.”

I laugh. “I woke up naturally and I didn’t want to drag ass for the next few days. Okay?”

She nods, seemingly satisfied. “You settling in all right otherwise?”

“Yeah, I think so.” I take another sip. “How’s the rancher hunt going?”

“I’m working on it. Tough to find folks mid-summer. They’ve all already got jobs.”

I nod. “Figures.”

“Sorry it’s taking a while. I’ll keep you updated.”

“It’s all right.”

She nudges my ribs. “I know you’re desperate to get out of here again. Just hang in there for a while longer, all right?”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

I look out across the field again, throwing my mug back to finish it off. I set it on the table beside me and turn back to find my mother still staring at me, studying me closely.

I sigh. “What?”

“What are you up to?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

“Why do you want to stay in Clover?”

“I don’t want to stay in Clover,” I say. “I would very much like to not be in Clover anymore but I promised you that I’d help out for as long as you needed it.”

“Well,” she feigns a sigh, “I’m sorry your poor, widowed mother is such a burden to you, sweetie.”

I exhale. “I didn’t say that—”

“It’s not like I didn’t spend twenty years feeding you—”

“Mom.”

“Clothing you.”

“All right. I get it.”

“Keeping your father from killing you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says. “Now, shut up and let me enjoy my Sunday.”

I smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

Movement catches my eye and we both turn our heads to the right.

Gertie wanders by the porch, taking slow but swift steps toward the highway.

“Not It,” my mother says, volunteering me to go put her back in the barn.

I groan. “Dammit, Gertie,” I mutter, standing up to go fetch her.