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  1. State of Affair 2
  2. State of Affair 1
  3. State of Affair 4
  4. State of Affair 5
  5. State of Affair 6
  6. State of Affair 3
  7. State of Affair 7
  8. State of Affair 8

State of Affair 8

Categories Fiction, Consensual Sex, massage, Oral Sex

Author: Hew 180

Published: 13 June 2017

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The rest of day 5 continues here in State of Affair 8.


I had dominated most of Mitzi’s time the last four days, so she’s planning on visiting a few friends, buying groceries and a couple of house-ware items for our kitchen.

Mitzi reminded me to call Grandpa Andrew this morning.

I told her I hope she has a good time.

She had packed lunch and beverages in a cooler for me.

I heard Uncle Bill say yesterday the 320Tractor is back in service, and found the 320T in the shed where it belongs during downtime and did the routine pre-start fluid level checks and greased the zerks, even though I knew it hadn’t run an hour since the last fluid checks.

The 320T cab is a little too tall for the Potato-windrower shed door, so I ran a cable to drag the windrower out to where I could pin the tongue to the drawbar on the tractor, got the hydraulics and PTO (power take off) hooked up, and pulled the Windrower to the staging area for normal preventive-maintenance (PM).

Mitzi came out with my cooler and gear-bag, and put them just inside the cab for me, and came around to the right side of the machine to ask, “What is this Paul?”

I was greasing bearings and wear surfaces on the right side, so I was able to point directly at each item as I described the use of this machine.

“It’s a Four-row Potato-windrower, also known as a Crossover which uses this horizontal shear to cut under the potatoes in the ground, then the chain-belt behind the shear carries the potatoes and dirt up toward a drop onto a perpendicular chain-belt to discharge the ‘separated from the dirt potatoes’ where we can find them later two rows over from the right or left side of the windrower. It’s also known as a Bi-side discharge Crossover, because I can switch directions and move the conveyor chassis to discharge right side or left side.”

“You’re using this to dig rocks out of the ground?”

“Rocks are a by-product of digging potatoes with a potato-windrower or a potato-harvester.

“I have thirty acres in potatoes right now being farmed by a Tenant-farmer. The deal is real simple. He has to keep the rocks. I get the foliage for compost, and a percentage of the yield.”

“He’s happy with that?”

“I put everything on the table for them to see. Records of crop rotations, soil samples, fertilizer, lime, and potash applications. I had three bidders wanting that thirty acres for this year.”

“Wow! That’s fair and square!”

“Every Monday local farmers have a first thing in the morning confab at the Harvest Diner.
I’ve made a lot of deals there. Wives are welcome.”

“I get to go?”

“If you’re willing to be there at four in the morning. I know you’ll be nice to the other gals there. Some of them have a hard time looking good at four o’clock Monday morning.”

“What if I have trouble looking good at four in the morning?”

I pulled Mitzi tight against me, adoring the feel of my chest against her breasts. “No bra Mitzi? You’re going to keep my pecker percolating pre-cum all day gal.”

I kissed Mitzi’s forehead, “We’re going to change for better or worse. I’ll need your help maintaining a good attitude.
“You’ll also need help from me. Make sure you tell me, because I’m dense about women. I can’t read your mind.
“You’ve made your thoughts clear to me so far, and I thank you for that.
“To answer your question: There is a part of a verse in 1st Peter 4:8 that says, ‘Charity covers a multitude of the sins.’
“Charity is God-inspired love. It’s not something everybody has, and God Almighty is the only source. That’s how much I want to love you.”

We had to back away from each other, because in the middle of July. Seven o’clock in the morning outside is too hot for hugging. It’s gonna be hot ‘til the second week in September.

Mitzi headed for town, and I went out to twenty of my forty acres and lined up the windrower with the fence on my left and started digging South by compass to the end of the field, raised the shear out of the ground, and turned right.

The Tractor and windrower doesn’t turn on a dime at the end of a row, so I skipped approximately twelve rows, turned right again, lined up North by compass, lowered the shear, and back to digging.

I called James Rordon, the owner of the eighty acres I’m interested in, made an offer, he protested a bit, and I told him why the deal is fair.

All Mr. Rordon has to do is stop by The Law Firm Inc., sign all the paperwork and pick up the check. We’ll even escort him to our Bank, so he knows it’s good.

I also told him I’m interested in more land if he has any available for sale or lease.

“What’s all that noise in the background?” Mr. Rordon asked

“I’m digging rocks out of twenty acres.”

“That’s what the eighty acres needs.”

“I don’t like showing my hole cards too soon, but I plan to use a six-bottom plow on all of the tillable ground, dig all the rocks out, and till four inches of mulch in it. I would like to start working on it the first of November.”

“Are you the kid, Glenn Bates has been talking about?”

“I saw Glenn and Susan two days ago, pretty good chance he was talking about me.”

“Glenn and I were in the same platoon over there pinned down bad.
“Glenn was the CO. I was a Corporal, seemed like I was getting a field promotion every twenty minutes, I finally returned as a Master Gunnery Sergeant.
“We couldn’t move a quarter inch without getting shot at.
“More than an hour later someone out there started plinkin’ about two o’clock from our position.
“One of our guys noticed the stranger wasn’t shooting at us, and yelled ‘THREE O’CLOCK, THREE O’CLOCK, THREE O’CLOCK.”
“George popped up, and dropped quicker than gravity.
“I fired at a puff of smoke thirty yards out. George wasn’t hit.
“We continued the crossfire from points three o’clock and six o’clock, and shot every one of them.
“Your Uncle Gnarly was the plinker.”

“I wasn’t there, so I never call him Gnarly.
“You and your colleagues were there. You and your family deserve to call my Uncle Bob, ‘Gnarly’.”

“Thanks, I’ll call your Dad for an appointment.”

Basically I’m repeating the same pattern of digging rocks out of eight rows each direction and depositing them in the center of a four-row space in the middle of the pattern for a four-row potato-harvester to dig rocks while picking up the previously deposited rocks to convey into a four yard dump-trailer towed behind the harvester one or two days from now, when Mitzi is helping me by taking trailer loads of rocks to our quarry to dump and return for the next trailer.

Each pattern is twenty rows. Sixteen rows discharged to the center of four rows for the Harvester.
On to pattern after pattern after pattern until I finished all twenty acres for the day.

Mitzi called, “Hi! How are you doing?”

“I’m done for the day. It was easier than I expected. The ground was still loose enough since I plowed it three months ago, so there wasn’t much stress on the machinery, and getting all the rocks removed is going to make the farm products a lot better.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to plant there?”

“Potato growers love virgin ground, so I’ll see if C&M Farms wants to plant here early this coming spring, which reminds me: You and I are going to pull soil samples from this field in a couple of days.”

“Why do Potato farmers love virgin ground?”

“They love it because there is less pestilence, and disease in the ground. I should have plowed this twenty acres last December for winter-kill, so it could be farmed this year, but I was busy building a better Pickup for the Baler, farm maintenance, and a myriad of other things, some of which was simply spinning my wheels. At least I kept my grades up in school.”

“What do you mean ‘for winter-kill’?”

“Plowing ‘for winter-kill’ turns up bugs that are dug in to survive the winter, and the freeze kills more of them, which reduces damage to our crops during the summer.”

“Do you have plans for the rest of the forty acres?”

“Yes, I have twenty-four trees marked for harvest this year. I don’t know anything about forestry, but I know I have to thin some of the trees out.”

“Did you call Grandpa Andrew?

“Yes. He would like us to show up four o’clock at the Chapel in The Assisted Living Center. Then about five we’ll have supper in the dining hall and visit.”

“I can hear you driving through the gate, but it’s still cutting the time close. Have your gear-bag and cooler ready to hand down to me.”

“Thanks Mitzi. I love you dearly Gal!”

I pulled up next to Mitzi in the staging-area, and handed her the cooler and gear-bag, then took the windrower to its place in the shed.

Uncle Bill walked up, “Did you work it hard?”

“No. The ground was still loose. There was very little stress on the tractor and the windrower. I’m going to let the 320T cool down five, most likely ten minutes.”

“No problem. I’ll shut it down. You two are starting to run short on time. Get goin’.”

“Thanks Uncle Bill.”

When you have worked a diesel engine hard: It’s a good idea to let it cool down in idle five or ten, maybe fifteen minutes before shutting it off, to reduce heat-stress problems.

We got to the Chapel fifteen minutes early, greeted a few people, acknowledged others, and picked up a single page program.

It’s about bitterness again. Something I’ve had to deal with myself and I’ve helped others deal with their bitterness.

Service started with a few praise songs, “Revive Us Again” was one of them (my favorite). I’ve forgotten the other two. God abides in the praises of His people.

Pastor Dave talked about bitterness and how it becomes rooted in man as a result of resentment, and being unforgiving. “Christ Jesus said in the Bible’s Book of Matthew chapter six, that God the Father doesn’t forgive people that are unforgiving.
“It’s good to fear God, because it makes you wiser, more honest.
“God requires you to be honest with Him.
“I’ve experienced this and prayed to be forgiving, so I wouldn’t suffer the consequences of God not forgiving me.”

Pastor Dave suggested, “Casting out the root of bitterness, and don’t allow any capillary roots to exist, because the bitterness will grow back. Forgive forgive forgive, to be free from bitterness.”

Pastor Dave continued with, “Jesus said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No man comes to the Father, but by me’.
“Know the Truth, and the Truth will set you free.”

The service closed with songs “Amazing Grace,” and “Just as I am” for the alter-call.

Mitzi and I stayed in the pew a few minutes, talking a little about our experiences with bitterness, resentment, and unforgiveness.

We prayed for her Uncle Chet and Aunt Betsy’s marriage (read State of Affair 1).

Janice was waiting at the end of the pew as we stood up to leave, so we headed her direction.

“I have a couple of wild turn-of-event stories for you.” Janice said.

“What happened, Janice?”

“You know Hank lives in the house he’s working on flipping, right?”

We nodded.

“A neighbor girl came over last night and told him she’s pregnant.”

“You were there?”

“No. Hank called this morning and told me about it. She sneaked in his house one night about a month ago, and caught him in the shower.
“She gave him no slack at all until he ejaculated twice in bed with her. She lost her virginity and got knocked up within thirty minutes.”

“Hank told her the sex was wonderful, but he has other plans and don’t come back. Hank was hoping nothing would come of it, but it all came back to bite him in the ass four weeks later.
“Hank got her parents phone number and asked them to come over for a little chat.
“He explained what happened and laid down some tough-love ground rules, that got the girl crying and didn’t see him wink at the parents. Her Dad caught on and shushed the protesting mother, saying they would talk more about this later, shook hands with Hank and the three of them left.”

“That is serious anger management.”

“I went to Phungo’s Dojo to work off some steam, and ended up teaching a Blue, Green, and Orange belt class. Basically different levels of the same skill-set, Mitzi.”

Mitzi nodded.

“Simon Miller was wearing a green belt, and doing all the routines to the letter. I had no idea Simon was practicing Martial Arts.
“Class was over, and I walked over to my gear-bag, and Simon touched me. Startled me so bad I jumped, bounced off the wall, kicked at him. Next thing I knew, I hit the ceiling, and thought, ‘Oh crap! This is gonna hurt!”

I know the ceilings in some parts of the Dojo are eight foot high. I can easily toss one-hundred-twenty-five pound Janice up to the ceiling, but I couldn’t imagine skinny Simon Miller doing it.

“I’m headed for a hard landing on the floor, and Simon stepped under me, caught me, slowed me down, he went all the way to the floor with me on top. Everything came to an abrupt stop. I could see pain in his face. ‘I wanted to ask you for a date,’ Simon said.”

“Did he change his mind Janice?” I asked.

“Very funny Paul! No. I told him to keep his mouth shut and let me think about it for a few minutes. I started thinking while I slid my vulva up and down the length of his hardon. I stopped thinking after I had a long orgasm, and he came in his pants.”

Janice waved, and I glanced in the direction she looked and saw a larger Simon than last time I had seen him, break from a group and head our way.

“Hello Simon. Haven’t seen you in a couple of years.”

“Twenty-eight long months. My Dad was stationed in South America, he decided to come back and retire here.
“I thank you again for pulling those two seniors off me in school.”

“No problem, those guys are still out there getting what they deserve.”

“They didn’t learn?”


Janice told me, “Mr. Rordon stopped by and signed all the paperwork, and got the check, so the eighty acres are yours now.”

“What are you going to do with the eighty acres Paul?” Simon asked.

“Mitzi is going to lead off with a six bottom plow a foot deep, and I’ll follow with a four row potato-windrower to pull the rocks out and put them where we can pick them up later with a potato-harvester to load the rocks into a trailer to haul to the quarry.
“We’ll put about four inches of compost down on all the tillable acres to replace the nutrients in the soil, and turn it over during Thanksgiving, and plow it again during Christmas to New-year’s school break to kill most of the bugs that are burrowed in for the winter.”

“Sounds pretty efficient.” Janice said.

“I wish I was. I lost two years production on twenty acres next to the Barn.”

“It’ll work out, you’ve been going non-stop the last four years.” Dad interjected.

“Hi Dad, I didn’t know you were here.”

“Seems like the third reunion in less than a week. The rest of the families are in the main dining area just down the hall.” Dad said.

“I need a break Dad. One wife is all I can handle.”

Dad came to a dead stop in the hallway and stared at me. Mitzi bumped into me so hard, I had to catch her, so she wouldn’t fall.

“Both of you need a honeymoon. Take Mitzi’s rig and the twenty-four foot travel trailer and disappear for two weeks. Take a look at your eighty acres, make some plans, and figure out what Sleazy wants to steal from there.”


“One of Sleazy’s known associates called offering to lease the eighty acres. I told him I would pass the offer on.
“I’ll have someone get the travel trailer ready for you by noon tomorrow.”

“Well Mitzi, it looks like we have tomorrow off. That means we can start early and harvest all the rocks off the twenty acres by ten in the morning. We’ll pull soil samples as we go.”

“Does he ever slow down Dad?” Mitzi asked

“Reminds me of his mother and I when we started The Law Firm Inc. We didn’t take a vacation until year five, after we finished our Shangri La Apartment on the fifth floor of The Maitham Building.”

“Shangri La Apartment?” Mitzi asked.

“It’s a luxurious studio type apartment with lots of storage room, kitchenette, dining space for two people, lounge with recliners and davenport, two person Jacuzzi tub, four by four foot shower with three shower heads, washer and dryer, walk-in closets, the bedroom has the basic end tables and dresser setups with queen size bed.” Dad explained.

“A Retreat with all the comforts of home.” I said.

“Your mother says it helps her keep her sanity.” Dad chuckled.

“Dad? Things have turned one hundred eighty degrees on Janice, and she needs you and Mom to have a long comforting conversation with her.
“Hank had to break up with her.”

“Hank had to?”

“It’s her story Dad. It’s better she tells you and Mom.”

Dad immediately took off looking for Janice.

“Mom was fifteen when she married Dad. She looked at every boy in High School, from the youngest to the oldest.
“Mom considered Dad the best of the lot, and asked him to teach her how to drive a tractor. The whole idea was to get Dad interested in her. At the same time she enjoyed learning how to use farm equipment. She was learning stuff none of the other girls in school were learning. Gave her bragging rights.
“’Bout a month later her mother got off work early and borrowed somebody’s car and came out to see what was going on.”

“Wait a minute! . . . Her daughter is out at a farm a whole month and she doesn’t know what’s going on?” Mitzi asked.

“Her mother was easy walking distance from work, so Mom used the car to drive out to the farm and back, but her mother wasn’t seeing any paychecks from the farm, so it was time to take a look.
“It happened to be dinner time, so they had a long talk at the kitchen table. Mom flat told her mother, she was going to marry my Dad. Her mother asked her daughter why? Mom said she has the hots all the time just like her mother does and she wants Dad to be her man.
“Grandma and Grandpa talked about a lot of things with them at the dinner-table, and finally asked Dad what he thought of Mom’s desire to marry him.
“Dad stared at the four of them and said, “We need to take a serious look at the wedding vows.”

Mitzi burst out laughing, “Who told you this story?”

“I got most of it from Grandma and Grandpa. Uncle Bill was there, told me he knows his eyes were big as saucers when Momma Bear showed up, said there was a lot of wisdom at the table. The only surprise was when Mom put all her cards on the table, and wouldn’t compromise wanting to be married, and have a bit of a Honeymoon before school started in the fall.”

“What did Dad tell you about this?”

“After Janice told him the story about me nailing pillows named Mitzi. Dad confided to me that he was stroking off on a pillow at least four times a day from the first day Mom showed up on the farm. He did everything he could to treat Mom like a chaste sister, never came on to her. Of course he had to wear long shirts outside his trousers, said it was the longest six weeks of his life.”

“Six weeks?”

“Yup. . . They were married two weeks after that confab around the dinner-table, stayed a Honeymoon week at a Four-star Hotel two counties over, came back and moved into a two-bedroom house The Barn Inc. bought to keep Dad’s overhead down, so he could go to College.”

“Paul . . . Yo . . . Paul!” Grandpa was waving me over to him, so Mitzi and I stepped over to him.

“Would you pray over our dinner tonight Paul?” Grandpa asked.

“Sure, no problem.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you want us to sit anywhere in particular Grandpa?”

“Yes! Over there beside where I’m sitting. I like Mitzi’s attitude.”

“So do I.”

“Father God Almighty
In Christ Jesus’ name.
We ask of you for your grace and mercy and the peace you provide.
We ask of you for the blessings, convictions, and the wisdom you want us to have.
We ask of you to forgive us as we forgive others.
We ask of you for deliverance from evil.
We ask of you for the healings you want us to have.
We ask of you, that we receive and share faith, hope, joy, and charity with others to your glory.”

“We thank you for the meal served this evening, and also thank you for all of the volunteers, caregivers, Kitchen staff, and others that have been helpful this evening.
We pray that this meal be a blessing for each of us this evening. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

Mitzi and I got back to the cabin about eight o’clock. She looked irritated.

“Would you like some help with that?

“With what?”

“You’ve scratched yourself three or four times down there. Do you want me to get the shaving gear out and knock off the stubble and spruce it up a bit, or do you want it all shaved off?” I asked.

“Shave it all off. I haven’t done that since fifth grade.”

“Fifth grade?”

“I was embarrassed. Most of the other girls in the locker-room didn’t have hair down there yet.”

“Do you have oil you like to use to avoid razor burn?”

Mitzi handed me a drawstring bag. “Here is everything I need for my femininity.”

“Would you mind if I molest your femininity?

“Make sure you finish what you start.”

“This is gonna be fun.”

“I’m sure it will be.” She laughed.

I lathered her up pretty good and shaved off all the hair in her groin area, and used oil to lube while shaving her again to make sure I didn’t miss any hair down there, which revealed more of the lovely plumpness of her vulva.
I double-checked to make sure there was nothing amiss, and rinsed her off three times.

“That feels wonderful. I’ve never had anybody do that for me before. Some of the girls at school shave each other.”

“The only femininity business I want is you Mitzi.”

“Thank you.”

“Sex sells, so we see it everywhere. A person wrongfully distracted by sex usually gets in trouble. It’s you and me Mitzi. We take care of each other, and stay out of trouble.

“Would you like a shower with me Mitzi? I would like to give you a scalp massage.”

Mitzi was in the shower with the water running before I got the rest of my clothes off.

I grabbed a bar of Dove from the shelf, and industriously lathered her up from her shoulders down to between her toes. I washed everything, yes everything. She squealed a few times while I vigorously scrubbed her erogenous zones.

Mitzi gave almost as good as she got, thoroughly scrubbing me too.

I poured the shampoo and got a lot of lather going in her hair and gave her scalp a good thorough massage.

She loved it and totally relaxed, wrapping her arms around the back of my neck in a full-frontal hug, and laid her face on my right shoulder (she's four inches shorter than me). She reached up and kissed my neck three or four or five times.

It would have been nice to have some soothing music as we swayed round and round in each other’s arms.

“Do you feel like we’re stuck?” Mitzi asked.

“Do you think your parents are stuck?”

“No. They are content. I’ve heard Mom make a screeching noise at two-thirty in the morning a few times. I’ll have to ask her what Dad’s does that makes her do that.”

“How do you know she likes it?” I asked.

“Because she practically dances around the breakfast-table in the morning and Dad looks tired.”

“I’ll be happy to rise to the challenge.”

“It would be funny to call and ask her right now on the speaker-phone.”

“You get caught, your mother will never trust you again.”

“Thank you for keeping me out of trouble. Do you want to go to bed and give my pretty plump pussy more than a few licks. ”

“I would love to lick your pleasingly plump pretty pussy,” and started toweling her down

We finished drying and I gathered her up in my arms and avoided ricocheting off door-jams and sharp corners on the way to bed.

I tossed her on the far side of the bed, because I figured we could muss up the bed there, so the side closest to the bathroom would be dry to sleep on.

I rolled over on my back with Mitzi on top of me and kissed her lips and drove my tongue in her mouth and held the kiss about twenty counts.

“Oh goodness Paul do that again!”

Mitzi is really fierce about kissing like that. I haven’t asked her what it does to her.

I kissed her ears and sucked on her ear lobes, kissed and licked and sucked on each side of her neck from behind her ears to the top of her shoulders.

She’s breathing hard.

I lifted and pulled her up and got her right breast sucked as deep into my mouth as I can, thoroughly tongue-lashing her nipple and areola.

I gave her left breast the same workout for a long time, then moved her down and kissed her lips, and Mitzi grabbed the back of my head with both hands and made me tongue wrestle with her.

I rolled over to my left side, and Mitzi lay splayed out still in a lip-lock with me.

I reached down and cupped her pretty plump vulva in the palm of my right hand, massaging and massaging and massaging while kissing her mouth.

Mitzi reflexively bucking rhythmically against my right hand, and I slipped a couple of fingers inside, stroking her entrance.
She got tired of the kissing and laid there enjoying the finger-banging.

I moved down and nursed on her nipples awhile.

“You keep that up, I’ll be lactating by the end of this month.”

“That’ll be interesting.”

“Aunt Lucy gave me a little breast-pump. She told me the Maitham boys have a thing for their lactating women. Did you know your mother lactates two or three sessions a year?”


“Lucy says your Dad must have drawn enough milk for a dozen kids by now.”

“News to me. I had no idea that was going on.”

“You weren’t home enough to notice.”

I slid down more and decided not to tease Mitzi, and planted my mouth directly on her hairless vulva licking as deep as I could straight up between her lips to the clitoris and gently sucked on it.

Mitzi instantly grabbed the back of my head to lock me in place while she rhythmically bucked into my face.

I kept my hands on her breasts massaging the nipples and areolas while licking her clit over and over and over again.

Fortunately my nose was above her pubic bone, or I would have suffocated.

Mitzi had a long drawn out orgasm as a result of my hands and mouthy ministrations.

Exhausted she laid there in the midst of her aftershocks spasming through her while I gently masturbated in her throbbing vagina. Better than a Mitzi pillow.

Mitzi’s sleeping now.

I don’t know why I said, “I need a break Dad. One wife is all I can handle.” to Dad.
I know I’m a little overwhelmed with all the work and everything, but Mitzi is a God-send.
A lot of women in the Bible have gotten their man in trouble with God.
I’ll have to talk with God Almighty about that.

Thank you for voting.

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