Buggy Baby Read online

  Buggy Baby

  Liam Ward

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious.

  Copyright © 2019 by Liam Ward

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One - Mary

  Chapter Two - Wayne

  Chapter Three - Mary

  Chapter Four - Wayne

  Chapter Five - Mary

  Chapter Six - Wayne

  Chapter Seven - Mary

  Chapter Eight - Wayne

  Chapter Nine - Mary

  Chapter Ten - Wayne

  Chapter Eleven - Mary

  Chapter Twelve - Wayne

  Chapter Thirteen - Mary

  Chapter Fourteen - Wayne

  Chapter Fifteen - Mary

  Chapter Sixteen - Wayne

  Chapter Seventeen - Mary

  Chapter Eighteen - Wayne

  Chapter Nineteen - Mary

  Chapter Twenty - Mary

  Chapter Twenty One - Wayne

  Epilogue - Mary

  Chapter One - Mary

  I turned the air conditioning off and rolled down my window. This country road was the longest stretch of my commute but it was also my favorite. The open fields were serene and the lush crops told of the time of year. Hot midsummer air carried the sweet smell of the alfalfa into my car.

  I live in northern Michigan but work an hour away from home at a company called Revolution Seating. We’re a small company that makes components for commercial airline seats. As if that weren’t dull enough, I work in accounts receivable and find my job to be largely unfulfilling. Even though business is booming for Revolution Seating, I find it hard to occupy my day and end up cycling through the same four websites to burn time.

  However, there aren’t many other jobs available where I live. I feel like I’m trapped in a cycle with no variance. Every day I drive, work, and drive back to an empty house where I entertain myself for a few hours before I fall asleep. Some days, sitting in my office chair, I feel like screaming. I’d been locked into the same damned routine for years. Following my divorce, I had moved home for a new beginning, not an early, droning end.

  At 37 years old, I am thankful that I’m no longer bound to my ex-husband, Henry. Marrying Henry at age 32 had been a mistake. He’d asked me to marry him after six months of dating, and like a fool, I said yes. We had a small, happy ceremony.

  Shortly after our marriage, Henry got fired from his job, which exacerbated his drinking. He could be verbally abusive when he drank but was always apologetic when he sobered-up. Our rushed marriage soon turned sour and we split amicably after having been married for less than a year.

  We had been living together in an apartment in Chicago. An expensive, cramped, and downtrodden hole in an unfavorable part of town. Even though I was sad about quitting my job, I happily volunteered to move back in with my parents. Rent free living in northern Michigan sounded great; I thought I’d be able to reconnect with old friends and flings — that never happened, but I did save enough money for a large down payment on my home.

  After splitting with Henry, I was optimistic and looked forward to dating. I frequently visited bars and concerts with my friends. However, these nights never ended the way that I wanted them too. Guys would buy me drinks, we’d dance, make out, and they’d ask for my number, but for one reason or another, nothing more than casual hookups ever developed.

  I really desired a man with muscles. It’d been years since I had good sex. Alone, I’d fantasize about the large football player that I dated in college. He had me clutching the cold wall-mounted porcelain sink. In the dorm bathroom mirror, I could see his muscular reflection working behind me. He had been a massive man with a spackle of dark hair on his well-developed chest. And he was hung like an ox.

  The warm and fragrant country air brought me back to my driving. I was thankful that it was Thursday. I’d get home, cook dinner, do a weak little yoga routine, and spend the rest of the night watching Grey’s Anatomy.

  My daily commute is long, but I’ve always tried to make the most out of it. I liked to listen to podcasts, audiobooks, or call my mother. But this day, my phone was dead and I’d left my charging cord at work, so I was stuck listening to the radio — I found nothing but advertisements, which was mildly frustrating.

  The car’s interior had warmed from the passing summer air and I began to sweat. I rolled the windows up and turned the air conditioning knob to full-blast. At first, cool air filled my car, but a short time later, I felt a sputter and the radio cut out. All the car’s gauges and screens went dark. I panicked as the car slowed. I turned the wheel, aiming to stop on the road’s shoulder, but it felt like I was turning through molasses. The car kicked up dust as it slowed to a stop.

  I put the car in park and turned the key off.

  My heart thudded.

  This car was only a year old when I bought it last Fall. I shouldn’t have to deal with this, I thought bitterly to myself.

  I didn’t have many options. I turned the key, hoping that the car would miraculously start for me. I had no such luck. I heard a small whir and clicking coming from my car’s engine compartment. I stopped and tried the key again.

  No dice.

  “Shit,” I said to myself.

  With the windows rolled up and no air conditioning, the interior of the car became too hot to handle. Perspiration gathered in my bra and my face turned red. My denim jacket clung to me as I pulled it off.

  I decided that I couldn’t sit in the hot car any longer. I grabbed my water bottle and checked my mirror to see if any traffic was coming. I opened my door and stepped into the hot summer air. It was a little after 4:30 pm and the sun was intense. I could feel the heat radiating off the cracked pavement. There were no trees on the side of the road to provide me shade, only a wide and deep drainage ditch with an alfalfa field beyond. I stood on the passenger side of my car near the start of the ditch’s steep downward slope.

  I held the power button on my phone hoping it would come on. The only thing displayed on the screen was a mostly empty battery with a sliver of red in it.

  No cord nor the power to charge my phone.

  I realized that I was vulnerable. I was more than twenty miles from home and couldn’t imagine walking that far in the day’s heat — walking that far ever really. I considered walking to the nearest house to use their phone: too scary. Somehow, hitchhiking was preferable in my mind.

  I’d have to rely on the kindness of passing strangers to get out of this situation. I began imagining a creepy guy stopping to harass me or offering me a ride in his windowless van. Under this intense sun, I probably would take him up on that ride just to sit in his van’s air conditioning, so long as he didn’t bind my hands too tightly.

  However, after ten minutes, no one had stopped. I counted four cars and trucks that drove by me. The men and women inside stared at me as they passed, but not a single person stopped to ask if I needed help.

  What the hell, I’m not that ugly, am I? I’m in good shape for my age.

  I was desperate for shade. I went back into my car and popped the hood to create shade in front of the car. Hiding behind the hood with my ass near the engine compartment provided much needed relief from the sun. My fair skin burns easy and I did not want my t-shirt’s V-neck to be burnt into my cleavage.

  A light breeze picked up, cooling me and lessening my frustration.

  I peered around the hood of the car to see if anyone was coming.

  Nothing.

  Time passed without a care.

  The wind made waves in the fields of alfalfa.

  Again, I peered around my hood. Down the road, I could see a small black box. It moved s
low. At first, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. Then it struck me. The black shape was a horse and buggy.

  The area had a large Mennonite community and a buggy was not an unfamiliar sight to me. I passed them every so often on my way to work. I always wondered about the lives of their drivers.

  I tried to be politically correct in my thinking, but I was genuinely unsure if a Mennonite would have a cell phone. My ignorance is embarrassing. I knew the buggy wouldn’t have air conditioning in it, but I hoped that the driver would be kind enough to give me a lift if they didn’t have a cell phone.

  Chapter Two - Wayne

  Returning home from the supermarket, most of the extra space in the buggy was taken up by paper bags filled with baking goods, cleaning supplies, and toilet paper. I had also grabbed some candy for my two younger sisters, mite poison for the chicken coop, and a little porn magazine for myself.

  My family and our community are mostly self-sufficient. We don’t need much, but over the years the shopping lists have grown as we’ve become more accustomed to modern conveniences. My father always scoffed at my mother’s shopping lists. Having been born in 1957, Hannes remembered simpler times in our community. Northern Michigan’s natural resources were bountiful, but the people of our community still had to work hard to make a living, and occasionally, times were tough. I had always refrained from using my cell phone in front of my father. He said that kids nowadays lived on the damned things. However, my father and our community are less conservative than other Mennonite communities — for that, I am thankful.

  A grasshopper landed on the buggy seat near me and I swatted it away. I pulled my phone out of my trousers’ pocket. The screen lit up and showed the time to be 4:46 p.m.

  Not a single text message to be read. That hurt.

  I had been talking to a girl from my class. She hadn’t left town after we graduated either. For a week, it seemed like she wanted to be more than friends, but then she stopped responding to my texts.

  I still held out hope that she would text me.

  Once awkward forever awkward? Can I change my behavior? I felt like most girls could tell that I was a virgin. That thought made me nervous, which made me more awkward. I couldn’t blame them for not wanting to have an oaf like me on top of them, trying to hammer it out for my first time.

  There were only ten miles between our farm and the store. By horse and buggy, my store trips usually take around two hours to complete, with a little time for rest. To many people, that’s unacceptably slow.

  I never minded.

  I had always found the sound of Roma’s hooves clopping on the concrete to be soothing. I also enjoyed getting away from home, even if it was only for a few hours on familiar roads. While there was always plenty of alone time on my parents’ farm, the moments in the buggy were special to me.

  Ever since I had finished high school, I felt as if I had rarely gotten away from my parents’ farm. Though, I did consider myself lucky. I knew of a few families in our community that homeschooled their kids. I enjoyed high school. I never played any sports, but during my weightlifting class, I found that I was much stronger than my classmates. The football coach tried relentlessly to get me to join the team. Throwing hay bales around the farm was hard work. I was a well-fed and a well-muscled young man.

  Not much about me had changed since then. I had graduated only a year prior, but in that year, I watched everyone around me leave. Friends went to college or started jobs in other states while I stayed behind to work and live on my parents’ dairy farm.

  Our farm was all I knew. There was a promise of me having a newly built house somewhere on our ninety acre property. Rich land, dense woods, a stream. I looked forward to raising a family on our beautiful land.

  My parents had hinted at the idea that I might marry our neighbor’s daughter. We had talked at a few gatherings and danced. She was cute and kind, but something was missing between us. She didn’t seem interested in me and talked over me. It was hard to imagine intimacy with her.

  I checked my phone again and saw no texts.

  It was going to be another night alone, so I was thankful that I had picked myself out a magazine: Plump and Busty was sure to be a pleaser.

  Roma pulled us over the crest of the hill. On the right-hand side of the road, a yellow ‘buggy caution’ sign carried a few bullet holes. The bullet holes did not serve as a threat towards my community, they were just placed there by rednecks having fun.

  Further down the road, a car sat on the shoulder, but didn’t have its hazard lights on. It looked like the hood was up.

  I figured that I’d stop and offer help, but they’d probably wave me on. Most people think us Mennonites are technologically illiterate. That is far from true. We just have a reverence for technology’s place in our life.

  Who am I kidding? I know nothing about cars or machinery.

  I sat up in my seat and quit daydreaming.

  Nearer the car, I saw a head poke out from around the hood. I could see long dark hair. I prayed that it was a woman.

  Roma pulled me along the road. The clopping of hooves filled my ears, but visions of the woman occupied my head. The distance between us was closing much too quickly. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself.

  The woman walked to the back of her car. Her long brown hair contrasted against her pearl white t-shirt. Nearer, I could see her magnificent curves. An obviously busty form, thin by no means, which was exciting to me in many ways. I couldn’t help but imagine her without a shirt.

  Roma and I slowed, pulling the buggy around her car and off onto the road’s shoulder. I gathered myself and stepped out of the buggy. She walked towards me. We made eye contact and she seemed startled. I figured that I had already given her the creeps.

  “Thanks for stopping. It died out of nowhere and my cell phone is dead too,” she said as she gestured at her car. Her boobs shook in her tight white top. Her cleavage was slightly red from the day’s heat.

  “Not a problem. Do you want me to take a look?” I asked. I knew that I wasn’t likely to find any anything actionable, but I needed a reason to be around this woman.

  “That’d be great. I’m Mary,” she said and stuck her hand out. I didn’t see a wedding band on her outstretched hand.

  I took her soft hand in mine and gently shook it. “I’m Wayne,” I said. I snuck a glance at her other hand and saw no ring there either. I wished I had more to say. I hoped that I was adequately concealing my nervousness.

  We turned and walked to her car. I put my hands on the red metal and leaned over the engine compartment. I pretended to look around and pulled on a few hoses — nothing looked obviously wrong.

  “It just died when I turned the AC on. Like it lost power or something,” Mary said.

  “Hmmm,” I answered back. I looked around at all the engine components again and jostled the battery cables for good effect. I hoped that Mary was buying my charade and that I looked like a man in her eyes.

  I turned to her and happened to catch her looking at my arms. It was a hot day, so I had stripped my long sleeve shirt off and only wore a light green vest. “Do you want to try starting it again?” I asked. Mary seemed startled when I spoke and I saw a flush creep into her face.

  “Sure,” she answered. She held my gaze longer than I was comfortable with before she went to get into her car. I marveled at her wide, round ass when she turned; it looked as if it had been vacuum-sealed into the light blue denim of her jeans.

  I felt blood rush into my cock.

  I’d have to think of something a little less exciting — I didn’t want to shut my tent pole in her car’s hood.

  Mary turned the key and all I heard was a clicking from the engine compartment. I had no clue what could be wrong with her car but I was desperate to maintain a connection with this woman.

  I stood back and crossed my arms.

  Mary returned to me. “Any idea?” she asked.

  I considered lying but knew that served no purpose in m
y game.

  “Not a clue,” I said and shook my head.

  Mary had big brown eyes. Her round face looked soft and kissable. Some of her thick, long hair laid across her shoulder and tickled the side of her large breast. I figured Mary was about 5’4”. Standing at 6’5”, I dwarfed her.

  I could see that she was mulling something over in her mind. A question? An insult?

  “Do you have a cell phone?” Mary asked.

  A bell went off in my head and I nearly jumped.

  “Not on me. But I’d be happy to give you a ride to Calvin’s Repair shop. It’s only ten minutes away,” I said.

  She answered much quicker than I was prepared for.

  “That’d be great. Sounds kinda fun. I uh... have never been pulled by horses before,” Mary said. I could tell that she was scared to offend me. I had seen that before from my classmates.

  I smiled at her and broke the tension. Seeing the ease rush over her felt good. “Cool, grab what you need and I’ll make room in the buggy. Going to be a little cramped,” I said.

  “Just my purse,” Mary said.

  I went to my buggy and rearranged the groceries in disbelief.

  Chapter Three - Mary

  Wayne was not lying; the buggy was quite cramped. The small back seat was overflowing with the brown paper bags and the few at my side pushed me towards Wayne, which I didn’t mind.

  His presence was commanding. Tall, large muscles, a strong jawline. Wayne had long brown hair that was tightly shaved on the sides. I fantasized about running my fingers through his thick hair.

  Thick all over. Suspenders hung from his large shoulders and clung to his plain grey trousers. I was pleased to see his dick jostle around in his trousers as we rode along the bumpy concrete road — it was potentially breathtakingly large. I saw another shape in his trousers but being that Wayne had said that he didn’t have his phone on him, I figured it was his wallet.

  He looked way too young for me. Part of me wondered if he was still in high school, but most of me didn’t care. I wanted this man.