"S-so there's a little alleyway back behind the arcade," I blurt out, surprising myself with the words. "Um, you can't see it from the main boardwalk, and there's... there's some dumpsters and stuff that kind of block it from view. If, if you wanted to go back there, you and I could...." I trail off into silence, letting the implication hang salaciously in the air, but behind my eyes I'm frantically wondering why I said any of it in the first place. I'm not the kind of woman who goes into the back alley with some man I've never met before just because he has pretty blue eyes and a nice bulge in his trousers. I'm not really the kind of woman who goes into back alleys at all.

But I am the kind of woman who just implied to this total stranger that I would... only he's not leaving it at that. "You and I could what?" he asks flirtatiously, leaning in so close that I can smell his cologne and feel his hot breath tickling my ear. It's not cheap cologne, either. There's nothing cheap about this man but his surroundings, and I find myself wondering if the simpering deference I feel is just because I'm obviously in the presence of a man who could buy and sell me a dozen times over. Men like this aren't supposed to be at county fairs, the same way I'm not supposed to be bent over in a back alley with my hands against the wall and my skirt flipped up.

God, can I picture it though. My cheeks burn with a fierce blush, and I'm just grateful that no one can hear me over the sounds of the crowd and the echoes from the bandstand and the braying of the livestock as I murmur meekly, "W-we could fuck." I can't believe I said it, I want to claw the words out of the air and stuff them back in my mouth, but my lips don't seem to be listening and they add, "I, I mean, you could fuck me. If you wanted to."

I cannot explain what's happening to me. I genuinely do not understand what's making me come on so strong to a total stranger, even one with his chiseled good looks and radiant charisma. I'm supposed to be the kids' chaperone, for fuck's sake, here to make sure all those teenage hormones and the sight of the brood sows don't get their minds moving in the wrong direction, and what am I doing? I'm propositioning some handsome man from town! I open my mouth to tell him I've changed my mind, but what comes out is, "Or I could suck your dick."

Oh god. Oh god, I am still living at home. I don't think my parents even know I know some of those words, let alone that I would employ them with a man I only just met. My whole face is beet red now, my forehead beaded with sweat, but it only seems to amuse the handsome stranger in front of me. He watches me squirm, a knowing look on his face, and says, "Sounds like you need it pretty bad. Are you sure you're not going to get in trouble, sneaking away with me like that?"

That's when I realize he's doing this. I don't know how--I've never believed in magic, any more than I really believed in Jesus--they're both just things people talk about but never see, ways to wish for a life that's a little less ordinary than the one we have to deal with every day. But maybe magic is real and Jesus isn't, because I am praying to the Lord to silence my mouth but instead I say, "The kids are all over at the bandstand watching Weird Al. They won't be back for another couple hours, and the animals won't mind if I slip away for a little while. If Jimmy asks, I'll tell him I had a call of nature." I can't even stop myself from helping him get me alone. I am a goddamned co-conspirator in my own defilement, and whatever part of me that's going along with this is downright ingenious.

"Is Jimmy your boyfriend?" he asks, a chuckle in his voice, but I can tell he doesn't want to know out of some pang of conscience. He wants to find out if his cum is going to be leaking out of another man's property.

But of course I can't lie to him, any more than I can find a way to stop my pussy from getting slick as butter between my legs. "No sir," I murmur, wiping my sweaty hands on my shorts. "Jimmy's the other chaperone, he's over at the bandstand with the kids. But he might stop by at intermission just to check up on me and see how I'm doing. They're pretty trustworthy in a group, it's only when they're alone together that they might...." I don't know how, but my blush actually deepens. My whole face is hot, and I can feel the prickles spreading all the way down past my collarbone.

"They might go off and fuck some stranger in the back alley," he chuckles, reaching out and giving my tits a possessive squeeze I'm praying nobody notices. The rest of the 4H Club might be off at the bandstand, but that doesn't mean we're alone here. "So Jimmy's nobody special, then. You got anybody waiting at home, a husband or a boyfriend or something?" I wonder briefly how old he thinks I am; yes, we marry young here, but I went to high school with the oldest kids I'm chaperoning. It would make me bristle a little, if I wasn't so completely consumed with lust for his cock.

"N-no, nobody, sir," I murmur, unable to stop myself from leaning into his touch. "My mom, she got sick when I was still in school, chores kept me around the farm a lot. I, uhh, I haven't had much time to get out and meet people." And I'm not really meeting one now, I'm sure. This isn't a man who's sounding me out to see if I'm interested in a relationship; he's just curious about the pussy he's going to be sticking his dick into in a few minutes. I at least hope he's nice enough to let me go home at the end of the night--Daddy's got enough troubles without having his only daughter spirited away by the fairies or whatever this man is.

Not that I can do anything about it if he wants to steal me. I can't even stop myself from whimpering, "Please, mister? Please can you fuck me? I... you're right, I need it real bad. I need your cock inside me right now." It's not just that I'm saying it that shocks me; it's that I mean it, and I mean I mean it with every fiber of my heart and soul. I can't stop myself from craving his dick, and all the shock and bewilderment and humiliated amazement I'm feeling right now at his ability to make me dance like a puppet on a string for him isn't changing that very fundamental fact.

He gives me a swat on the ass, and the smack is loud enough to turn a few heads--I know I'm going to have some explaining to do later, but right now the only thing on my mind is the itch in my pussy. "I tell you what... Daisy, was it?" I never said my name to him, but even that isn't enough to make my blood run cold. Not when I'm this worked up. "You go back to that alley of yours, the one behind the arcade, in exactly ten minutes. You bend over against the wall with your shorts down and your panties around your ankles. And if I'm of a mind, I might... I mean I just might... decide to join you there." He turns and leaves, but I can still feel his grip on my will. On my soul.

It takes me five of those ten minutes to calm down the older couple who saw him pawing me; I tell them he was just some fresh stranger from town, which is true enough, and ask them if they can watch the animals while I take a little walk to cool off and steady myself. Which is almost true, too, even if it's the kind of truth that makes me feel guilty as hell to a pair of friendly old people who've been volunteering at the fair for longer than I can remember. But my pussy's not mad about being dishonest. Not even a little.

I get there with about a minute to spare, but it doesn't matter--he takes his fine sweet time getting around to me, knowing I don't have any choice but to stand there in the cool night air with my shorts around my ankles and my bare ass sticking out like I'm a cow in breeding season. I don't know how long he makes me cool my heels--I'm a good girl, and I don't take my hands away from the wall for even a second to check the time on my phone--but it feels like at least ten minutes. Honestly it feels more like ten hours but that's just because my pussy's drooling down my thigh the whole time.

I spend a lot of that wait thinking of all the mean things he might be planning to do to me. He might decide to just leave me there all night, knowing I'd rather fall asleep standing up than risk missing out on a chance to get my cunt plowed. He might be off finding another man to fuck me, amused by the thought of whoring me out to some other stranger while he watches or even getting someone I know to give it to me rough without realizing I'm in his power. Hell, he might go find Jimmy at the Weird Al concert and parade the entire 4H Club one by one in front of my leaky pussy. I couldn't stop him, and that terrifies me but it also somehow makes me even wetter.

But no, I'm in luck... if luck is what you want to call it. I smell his cologne drifting down the alley before I hear his almost silent footsteps, and I don't know how but the bells and whistles from the skee-ball game don't mask the sound of his zipper as it comes down one tantalizing tooth at a time. "I'm glad to see you're a patient girl," he murmurs, as though I ever had a choice in any of this, and even though I want to be mad at him for teasing me I can't help mewling in pathetic gratitude when I feel him press at the entrance to my cunt.

He squeezes my ass hard as he sinks in, hard enough to leave handprints the next morning, and I'm glad nature blessed me with a little extra padding back there because he is not a patient man. He absolutely jackhammers me with thrust after thrust after rough, urgent thrust, and while I'm not a virgin I can't exactly say my teenage fumblings behind the bleachers ever prepared me for this. He is going to town on my pussy, and I already know the tricky part is going to be figuring out whether I love it because I've never been fucked like this before or because he made me love it with whatever hold he has on me.

In the moment, though, it doesn't matter. My eyes roll back in my head in a matter of minutes, and I hear a low, guttural moan that reminds me of a sow in heat. it takes me a surprisingly long time to realize is coming from my own throat. My pussy clenches around his dick over and over again, my hips rock back to meet his thrusts so hard I can hear the slap slap slap of skin against fine fabric, and it just doesn't feel like I even know how to stop cumming anymore. Whatever he's doing to me, it feels better than anything I've ever managed to do with myself and I know I'm going to daydream about it every time I slip off behind the barn for a little release from now on.

It does eventually reach a conclusion, though. I don't know how long he spends fucking me, my sense of time started getting glitchy around the third orgasm, but I finally notice his thrusts getting erratic and his breathing go hoarse just before he pushes forward in a final, straining exertion and pulls out. "There you go, Daisy," he pants, staggering back and zipping up with his semen still dripping down my thigh. "One good hard fucking, as requested, no strings attached."

I hope that's actually true, even though I don't dare ask him about it as he walks away. The farm and the 4H have given me a pretty good idea of how all this biology stuff works, even though I never did go to agricultural college like I planned, and while my period tracker tells me I'm safe I also feel like it wouldn't matter if this man wanted to get me pregnant. He has a power, more than just the grip he had on my will, and I think if he decided I was going to carry his baby it would happen hell or high water. Which is a terrifying and awesome thought, and I don't think I'm ever going to forget the day my life was touched by genuine magic....

But at the same time, I sure do hope I never see that man again.

THE END