Just a little short story about a man and his daughter.
Chapter 1
Times were a little better on our Iowa farm, now that the rains had returned. During the dust bowl years of the 1930’s, we were close to bankruptcy, though in Iowa things were not as bad as some other parts of the country. We had some rain, even during the worst of the drought, but it was barely enough. Crop yields were low and we barely made enough money to survive. But we did survive.
In the spring of 1942, I convinced the bank to loan me enough money to buy my first tractor. Times had been hard, but I had always paid my bills, and the bank went along with it. I had used tractors before, but had never owned one of my own. When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and the U.S. entered the war, crop prices went up. The rains also increased, so money was not as scarce as it used to be. Both farmers and bankers were more optimistic. Still, I could never have bought a tractor without a loan from the bank. That first tractor was a beautiful, orange Allis-Chalmers row crop model. It was not new, but it was in good shape and was the best I could afford. It was a 1940 model. It put out an unbelievable 28 horsepower on the drawbar, and would pull a 4-bottom plow in second gear. It was wonderful.
A week after I brought that tractor home, my only daughter was born. I didn’t tell anybody why, but I insisted on naming her , her name inspired by my new tractor. In my mind, she would be forever associated with that tractor.
By the time was three years old she was riding on the tractor with me, sitting on my lap, or standing in front of me. She loved it, and when she heard the tractor start, she would come running. She loved to ride on the tractor with Daddy. She never wanted to quit until I did. She would ride with me for hours. I mounted a large umbrella on the tractor to protect her tender young skin from the long hours in the sun. By the time she was six years old, she was getting too big to comfortably sit between my legs or stand in front, so I fabricated a wide wooden seat, big enough for both of us to sit side-by-side. It was wide enough for two adults to sit comfortably, and had a soft, comfortable cushion. I even put seat belts on it. Our farm was almost entirely level ground, and not dangerous for tractors, but kids like to move and squirm around, so I always made buckle up. She was proud and happy when I put her name on the back of the new seat, in gold letters, and told her for the first time that her name had come from that tractor.
When she started school, she didn’t have as much time to ride with me, but she liked school and realized that it was important. She didn’t complain, but when she got home from school she would run to the field to join me if I was out on the tractor. Sometimes I would do other work during the day and postpone the tractor work until later, so she could ride with me.
When was about seven years old she started steering the tractor. She couldn’t yet reach the brake and clutch pedals with her feet, but she could steer. There was no gas pedal. The throttle was set by a notched lever on the steering column. I would always watch her closely, ready to intervene if necessary, but she learned quickly and didn’t need much help. Soon, she could make the turns at the ends of the fields, and she even learned when to pull the hydraulic lever to raise and lower the plow when she made the turns. She was turning into a competent little farmer girl.
was definitely a daddy’s girl. She was the love of my life. My tractor seemed empty and lonesome when she was not with me. When she was by my side, it didn’t seem like work. In the spring and fall, when we had a lot of tractor work, would hop off the tractor when we were close to the house, run to get lunch and bring it back, so we would eat on the tractor. I had long ago, mounted a cooler behind the seat, so we could have cold drinks. Tractor work was more fun than it was work. I loved my Allis-Chalmers tractor, and I loved . The tractor brought us closer together.
When was nine years old, her mother left us. She filed for a divorce and went back to Burlington, Vermont to live with her family. We had a discussion at the kitchen table and was given the choice. I was happy and relieved when she chose to stay with me. She was a farm girl. She was sorry to see her mom go, but she didn’t want to live in the city. It was just the two of us now.
At ten years old, would sometimes drive the tractor without my help, though I was still with her most of the time. Occasionally I would hop off and get the lunch now, and let her take the tractor alone for a few minutes to build her confidence. She was tall enough to reach the pedals now. By the time she was twelve, she was regularly handling the tractor by herself.
During the next few years, became a true partner in the farm operation. By the time she was eighteen and out of high school she was doing all the book work. She was a more competent and helpful partner than her mother had ever been. She would cheerfully do any job, from shoveling manure to driving the grain truck to town, or picking up supplies. She even did our tax returns. I doubt if the farm would have survived without her help. And I was falling in love with her.
and I had always been close, and running the farm together brought us closer. She was my partner in business and in life. I had loved her from the first day she was born and physical affection was common between us. Hugs had always been a daily occurrence and at age 19, they still were. But in the last month or two, our feelings were changing. When I hugged her now, it seemed that we held each other a little tighter; a little longer.
After we finished our dinner on one pleasant September day, I gave her a hug in the kitchen and thanked her for a good day’s work. We held each other close for an unusually long time. I felt her soft breasts pressing against my body. When we separated, I stared into her beautiful green Irish eyes and I could see that she felt what I felt. We looked into each others eyes until I put my fingers in her curly red hair and held her head. Responding to an urge that was older than our society’s rules against it, I leaned down and kissed her gently on the mouth. We looked into each other’s eyes again, then I kissed her again, this time much longer and more thoroughly. This time she kissed me back enthusiastically, not like a little girl, but like a woman. I held her close to me and whispered, “I love you, .”
She whispered back, “I love you too, Daddy.”
It had been a long day and we were tired. After the evening chores were finished, we went to bed early. I laid in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, my eyes sometimes open and sometimes closed, but I was not sleeping. Random thoughts rolled through my head as I listened to the curtains rustling from the breeze through the open window. I could smell the freshly plowed earth.
After half an hour I heard the creak of my bedroom door and looked up to see the backlit silhouette of my beautiful in the doorway. She was completely naked. Moving slowly to my bedside, she put her finger to my lips to signal that I should not speak, then slipped between the sheets with me. I welcomed her into my arms and put my rough, farmer’s hands on her soft skin, pulling her toward me; pulling her bare breasts against my skin. With the smell of fresh-turned earth on the gentle breeze, in the darkness of our 80-year old farmhouse, a mile from the nearest neighbor, I made love with my daughter.
🔞 Candy.AI 🔥 AI Sex Chat – Roleplay, Erotic Stories, Try for Free 🕹️