Futa Farm Girl (Book 1 of "The Futa Infection")
By Alana Church
3/5
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About this ebook
Jackie is content to spend her life alone. But when an attractive young woman stumbles out of a storm, she can't turn her away.
Danielle is confused by Jackie's wary attitude. But when the hot young lesbian discovers Jackie's secret, she can't hide her desire. The lovely futa-woman has the body of a supermodel, and she's a virgin too! Watch the sparks fly in "Futa Farm Girl!"
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
Danielle watched the struggle play out across Jackie’s face. She held her breath, not daring to upset the delicate balance between them. It was obvious the gorgeous woman was wavering on the knife’s edge.
Damn them for hurting her. The ferocity of her anger surprised her. But it was obvious that if Jackie had not been physically abused, she was recovering from a lifetime of emotional trauma. Danielle could imagine it. The signs were all about. Growing up in a small town, in a conservative household. Maybe her father died young. Or maybe it was yet another case of a man abandoning his unwed lover after she came up pregnant.
And then, the double blows to the mother. First, the unwanted pregnancy. And then, even worse to her eyes, the horrifying realization that her child was malformed, disfigured, a freak with both male and female genitalia.
In all honesty, Danielle thought, it was almost surprising that Jackie was as well-adjusted as she was. If she had to live her life scorned and despised, she probably would have gone completely around the bend.
God, I want her so bad. Hidden behind the ridiculous sweatpants, her womanhood gave a frustrated spasm. Her juices were flowing, making her lips hot and slick.
Finally, Jackie opened her eyes. In her gaze, Danielle could see the haunting memory of years of hurt. “You’re not playing a trick on me?” Her voice quavered, half-hoping, half-fearing the truth. “You really think I’m...I’m attractive?”
Danielle stood. This, she knew, would take a careful touch.
She laid her palms on Jackie’s cheeks, meeting her eyes squarely, willing her to see her honesty.
“You,” she whispered hoarsely, “are the most amazing creature I have ever seen in my life. And I would be honored if you allowed me the gift of taking your virginity.”
Alana Church
Born and raised in Illinois, Alana attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, graduating with a degree in Education in 1994. She soon found out that the teaching life was not for her, and after a series of adventures has settled down in the Chicago suburbs, where she works for a telecommunications company.Alana lives alone, surrounded by books, pictures, a pile of story ideas, and a turtle named Pedro.
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Futa Farm Girl (Book 1 of "The Futa Infection") - Alana Church
Futa Farm Girl
By Alana Church
Artwork by Moira Nelligar
Copyright 2018 Alana Church
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~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~
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Jackie Sinclair was woken by the sound of the rooster, the same way she had been every morning since she was six years old.
Stumbling out of her bedroom, she walked through the bottom floor of the old farmhouse, yawning fit to crack her skull. Aside from the dratted bird’s raucous crowing, it was a blessedly quiet morning. Warm weather had come to Illinois, and though she had left the windows open the night before, the muslin curtains barely stirred. A look out the back door showed her a sky that was high and blue, though a haze creeping in from the west hinted at a change, and the rain that the weather man had been promising for the last several days.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and opened the door. She loved this time of morning, especially this time of year. The heads of the winter wheat were ripening in the fields to the north of the house, and the corn was already waist-high. Patches of fog drifted in the hollows to the south, where the ponds were, but that would surely burn off soon.
Sitting down in one of the old cane-back chairs her grandfather had bought decades before she was born, she let out a contented sigh. The front yard was neat and tidy. The grass was newly mowed, the maple trees her mother had planted fully leafed out, and some of the tulips that flanked the front walk bravely held a few petals, though most had already fallen in tiny drifts at the base of the flowers. Lifting the cup to her lips, she took a sip. A place for everything, and everything in its place. Let the world outside go hang. Here she would have order.
Here, no one knew, or cared, that she was a freak.
She scowled at the unwelcome thought, and took another sip of coffee, black as night and sweet as sin. Soon it would be time to eat her solitary breakfast and get to work. But for now, she savored these moments of peace. Sometimes she went days at a time without hearing another human voice. And that was exactly how she wanted it. Farming the fertile land around Red Bud would never make her rich. Then again, wealth had never been her goal. All she wanted was to be let alone.
A bawling noise came from her left, and her head snapped around.
All right, all right,
she said, raising her voice, glaring at the cows who looked over the wooden fence. She thought she could read reproach in their dull brown eyes.