Fifty Bales of Hay by Rachael Treasure

fingers searching out her cunt until he began dipping deeply in and out of her wetness. Thumb inside her, his other fingers pressing hard and fast on her clitoris. Shebucked against him, her boots scrabbling on the concrete of the race.
    ‘Fuck me, please, Tom. Now.’ Then she felt his short thick cock plunge inside her. His hands gripped her hips and he slammed into her. She felt the delicious weight of his stomach hitting against her backside. Gritting her teeth against his thrusts, Bronwyn had to grab the sides of the cattle rails to steady herself. Her shoulders collected on the crush, and the solidity of the metal against her body felt good. Next his hands grappling for her tits. She heard his cry of pleasure as his hands roamed over the enormity of them.
    ‘Oh, god,’ he said, his mind drifting up somewhere to the ether of the outback sky. He pressured himself against her deeply and ground into her. Suddenly the stub of his cock hit a pleasure zone she didn’t know she had. An orgasm exploded and rushed through her body, causing a deep throaty bellow from her opened mouth. As she felt Tommy let go inside her and heard him cry out, she smiled, feeling the thick pulse of his cock.
    Tommy stood for a time panting hard, stroking her backside gently as if it was the sides of a sheened and special horse. He stooped to kiss her on each large moonscape of her rounded bottom, then he helped draw her knickers and jeans up from where they were draped above her dusty work boots. He dragged up his own trousers and stepped out of the crush, pulled on the lever and released Bronwyn from the bale.
    They rearranged their clothing in silence, breathing heavily, reeling from the surreal encounter, feeling theearth settle back under their boots. Then, in the glowing light of the outback sun, Tommy passed Bronwyn his water cooler and jammed her hat back on her head.
    ‘You just made my day, Beanbag,’ Tommy said. ‘In fact, you just made my life.’
    ‘But,’ she said with a cheekiness in her tone, ‘you haven’t finished your job? What’s your score?’
    Tommy pushed his thick fingers up under his hat and scratched his sweat-soaked black hair. He shook his head and his mouth opened up into a wide smile.
    ‘Off the scales, mate. But if you need a number, I’d score you a ten. Definitely a ten out of ten. You’re a keeper for sure.’

Truck Wash
    C elia knew there was a good truck wash ahead, at a big set of saleyards about fifty kilometres out of Brisbane. She remembered pointing out the saleyards to Brian about six years ago. She had then made a suggestive comment about what she wanted to do with him when they got there. He had grabbed her hand as he drove the 18-wheeler and pressed her palm over the erection that was bulging inside his KingGee shorts. As Celia moved to change lanes, she glanced into the big oblong rear-view mirror of the truck to check for traffic and tensed her jaw. Those days with Brian as part of the driving partnership were long gone.
    She sighed as she held onto the wheel, twisted her back a little and stretched. Then she flexed the muscles of her clutch leg, noticing her accelerator leg had caught too much sun through the window and was red compared to the tan of her other leg. She’d be so glad to get to the truck wash and have a bit of a walk and a cooldown in that splashing water. Celia knew it would be good to give the old girl a squirt before she pulled into the overnight motel on the outskirts of Brizzie, so the truck was clean when she picked up her backload of cattle tomorrow morning. And she didn’twant to pong out the motel either, parked there overnight. Anyway, it was always a good idea to tackle the manure and urine while it was fresh; blast it out so it didn’t corrode the steel any more than it already did. It gave the trucks a longer lease of life too. God knows the trucks cost them a fortune. If only Brian would agree, she’d sell the lot of them and retire early. She often