"Nice farm you got here," Mike said. "Beautiful valley. I biked past here once before, but I didn't see you around."

"I was probably doing chores or something," Debby said. She turned off the faucet and handed the man the cold, dripping water bottle.

The man took it and squirted some water in his mouth. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're a real farmgirl, aren't you? Just like in the movies. I wasn't sure real farmgirls existed anymore. It's nice to know they still do."

Debby blushed, bashfully looking down at her bare feet. She felt the man towering over her. She was barely over five feet tall and he was over six.

"When are your parents coming home, Debby, my girl?" The man took another sip of his water.

"Three or four hours," Debby said sheepishly.

He capped his bottle and wiped his mouth.

"I could use a break," he said. "And I wouldn't mind a tour of this farm, if you'd like to show me around. I'm fascinated by old farms. In fact, I bought myself an old farmhouse about five miles from here as a sort of weekend retreat. The biking out here is fantastic. Perfect training terrain."

"Are you training for the Olympics or something?" Debby asked.

"Don't I wish!" Mike said. "I've raced in some major competitions, but never the Olympics." He put his hand on Debby's shoulder. "You going to give me a tour?"

Debby couldn't have refused the man if she'd wanted to. He was too big and strong, too awesome and overwhelming. She quivered as if her insides had turned to jelly, leading the man out the back door into the barn yard. He had his hand on her upper back, just below her neck, under her silky blonde hair. Her tits bounced in her nearly open blouse, and she was sure Mike could look down and see them. They passed around behind the barn for an unobstructed view of the fields and pastures and horizon, and of the bluffs off to one side.