Riding The Farmboys c**k.
She didn’t know I watched her.
But I did. Every f*****g day.
My name’s Liam. I came to the farm two months ago after her ad went up in town—“Help needed. Private farm. Good pay.” No questions, no bullshit. Just land, labor, and the kind of silence I craved.
Her name was Riley. Barely thirty. She walked like someone who’d been left behind one too many times. Tight jeans, muddy boots, always barefoot in the house. Her lips didn’t smile much, but her mouth? It was made to be ruined.
I kept my distance. Did the work. Fixed the fences, hauled the bales, broke my sweat under the sun just so I didn’t break something else. She’d watch me sometimes through the kitchen window, pretending she wasn’t. I let her. It was part of the deal, silent or not—we both needed some
