I love the countryside, the landscapes. They give me a sense of incredible plentitude. But my hedonist demands make me loose a bit of patience with so much plentitude after about five minutes. All that time for contemplation is not enough for me; to lead an unpretentious life; milk the cow in the morning (even if I am an animal lover... I prefer money thank you). The city offers greater and more palpable things (oi). The country is something to enjoy for a weekend, and then its “ciao, see you next year!”
In any case, not only has it been a long time since I’ve gone to the country, it’s been five years since the last time I saw Talita and Gabriel, a couple of friends who were my neighbors when I was in college. They grew up together in a little farming village in far western Santa Catarina, became lovers in high school and got married when he was 18 and she was 19. They both went to Florianópolis to study agronomics because Gabriel’s father had begun an organic farming business and they wanted to participate. They went right back to the fields after graduation.
They recently sent me an e-mail. Surprise 1: I never thought they would continue to use the Internet after returning to the country, even if it is the same Zipmail that they used in college. They said they bought their own land and had just returned from a course in Agro-ecology in Paris, that’s Surprise 2! I promptly planned a visit to their new home. I was very curious to know how Talita and Gabriel would return from a trip abroad.
They are certainly my most “rural” friends, and I don’t have to say that they love the countryside: Talita and Gabriel are real hayseeds.
For me, their friendship always represented exactly what the countryside represents: a refuge of peace, of unpretentiousness and even of innocence (how ironic), but in homeopathic doses. They are very sweet, very caring, calm, simple... but too straight and stable. They don’t smoke, don’t drink, perhaps barely screw. And of course I, in my wildness (catalyzed by the context of college) did not have many points in common. But I always liked their company very much, principally with the coffee that Talita brewed for my Sunday hangovers. I even tried to include them in some programs, get them to go out, take advantage of the city...but the attempts were always a disaster.
I always like to be with the two of them because, to tell the truth, they are very good looking. She is short with very light skin, blue eyes and freckles - those virgin traits typical of an innocent country girl. And she has a perfect body! Her waistline makes her look like she uses a corset, and her breasts and bottom are deliciously out of proportion with to the size of her body. She was in a limbo between Lolita and a tramp.
Gabriel meanwhile is a true cowboy. Dark, bearded, with deeply creased skin and a strong hairy body that I had the nearly embarrassing pleasure to see when he would greet me without a shirt, when I went over to borrow something. It’s one of those torsos that occupy the most hardcore desires, and it doesn’t combine with the fact that he is so straight... but I confess that his prurient trait always made my imagination go quite far, so I always treated him with great discretion. They probably never changed position, much less partners.
When the eucalyptus jungle ended, a gravel entrance appeared to the left, just like Talita described by e-mail. I then reached the farm gate, which was open and went approximately another kilometer. After passing a few fields that I imagined were corn, with my poor understanding of botany, I saw their house in the distance. There was Gabriel at the door without a shirt, in tight pants, a hat and a pair of boots...and more delicious than ever! I couldn’t imagine he could have gotten better looking, but these five years left him more masculine. I parked the Land Rover and was greeted with a big hug, they were always dangerously sweet. The house is surprisingly casual, all in wood, with various posters on the wall, including one of a famous French cabaret, Le Chat Noir, and an image of that black cat. It was much different than their college apartment, except for the family photos.
We went out for a walk around the land. Cows, tomatoes and the cackle of chickens formed a backdrop to stories of Paris. Curiously, their country accents began to mix with a completely new storyline. They talked about drinking sprees, parties with electronic music, and how they rented a car for a road trip around France.
My perplexity was evident..it was as if Paris was the escape valve that liberated the hedonist potential locked inside them and that the rural background only made more interesting, rustic and fetishistic. At the stable door, while they told of a drunken walk along the Champs-Elysées, Talita – with a sweet draw that made everything more innocent – said “and Gabriel was so drunk that, imagine, he began...” She turned red and hesitated. But with some insistence they told me that they did it right there on the main drag of Paris, in the middle of the night, against the wall of McDonalds. They said they were spotted by a policeman and ran off. I wet my panties twice: once from being aroused and once from the surprise. I had barely ever discussed makeup with Talita!
When we entered the stable, both laughed and confessed to their adventure. But I could no longer hide the sexual tension. “You’ve changed a lot,” I said, laughing, a bit nervous. Suddenly events turned the way I always dreamed they would but never thought possible. I looked at Talita a bit insecurely, but visibly horny and she smiled. That straight and proper couple had truly changed. She blushed. Gabriel grabbed my hips from behind, certain of what he was doing, while Talita, with a delicate introductory kiss on my forehead, began to lick my lips. I got very excited, a virgin excitement...they surprised me so much they seemed much more experienced than me. Imagine I, who speaks openly of all my sexual experiences with confidence and know-how, imagined that they never went beyond the missionary position. This confusion of identities made me feel like the modest one in the situation. Imagine that.
Gabriel lifted my dress and lowered my panties, tilted my trunk a bit to the front and dropped to kneel in the straw with his mouth on my pleasure right there in the stable. I kept kissing Talita’s until she also got on her knees, and began to lick my nipples with ardor. Things got wilder as the groaning got loader. I had always tried to hear something from their apartment in the middle of the night, but nothing. Finally I heard a couple that moaned with pleasure at each lick and caress. Gabriel’s moans were rustic with no delicacy or discretion; he got up and placed me on all fours. He opened his leather pants and rode me as if I was one of the horses watching us, with the control of a real macho cowboy. Talita stayed at my breasts and then helped with her tongue right where her husband had entered me. Where did they learn these things? Or did they always know? He slapped my ass lightly, while she squeezed my hips. I came, too quickly for a professional.
After an afternoon with more sex and incredible conversation, for the first time I left the country wanting to return.