[Lionel Mandrake]

I just realized that this thread is still open, therefore, my tag links to a post I can edit freely. I have decided to abuse this power.

And now, Lionel Mandrake's Erotic Short Fiction-- The Butterchurner

At the behest of her father, Donna had journeyed to the mill where she was to purchase a sack of feed for the mule. This was a common occurrence in her life, as she was Amish. Upon entering the mill, the aroma of oat and corn danced beneath her nostrils. It was an odor she had developed a liking for. Jebekiah called out to her. "Ah, Donna, I take it you've come for some mule's feed, eh?"

Donna nodded. "Tis a blessed day to see you, Jebekiah. Yes, some feed will do old Danley well."

Jebekiah was a kindly old man, and had been a friend of the family for some time. In later years his back had begun to fail him, and so his current work in the mill was limited to overseeing. "Well, I take it you've brought your horse, Daisy?" he said. "I will have my nephew bring the feed to carry on her back. As we are Amish, and chivalry is a large part of our lifestyle."

"Of course," Donna said.

"William," called Jebekiah.

It was then that Donna turned to see the tall, fit William enter into the room. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and its neck hung low enough for his chiseled chest to glisten in the sunlight that pierced through the building's roof planks. His black locks curled around his head like an immaculate crown. Donna had known William since they were both small children, but it was only now that she truly noticed him, and seemingly the same went for him of her.

The two young Amish people's eyes met, and locked there for what Donna could not discriminate from seconds to ages. She felt a truly peculiar feeling within side her. Her knees seemed to tremble, and she hoped that such action would be hidden by her long flowing dress. She tried to work up the nerve to speak, but as she tried to force a sound, she could tell that her voice would stumble over itself, and therefore she remained silent. Thankfully there was finally an intervention from Jebekiah.

"You remember William, right Donna?" the old man asked. "You two used to play in the fields together when you were knee high."

"Yes," Donna said, finally able to break eye contact with the boy before her. "I believe I remember him." She turned back to William. "You hurt yourself trying to climb Sister Mable's apple tree, right?"

A wry smile formed across young William's lips. "Aye," he said, in a voice both deep and masculine, but also soft and caring. When he spoke, Donna had yet another peculiar sensation. Her clothes became itchy and cumbersome, and she felt a longing to disrobe there in the feed mill, and allow for young William to bask in her body as it purely was. But of course she could not, for she was Amish, and also that wouldn't be acceptable anywhere else either, Amish or not.

"Well, William, don't doddle," Jebekiah said. "Miss Donna needs to you to load her horse with a sack of mule feed. Best get to it."

"Aye," William said again. He turned to enter the store room. Donna felt her eyes pulled to his backside, watching in awe as each of his buttocks seem to thunderously flex with each step.

Donna quickly shook her head and regained awareness and returned to jovial chatter with Jebekiah over the manner of payment, as well as the usual exchanging of news and such. The exchange didn't last long. Soon William returned and said that Daisy was all set to go. Again, Donna and William locked eyes longingly, but were each able to painfully take themselves away and go about their business. Donna escorted the horse back up the hill to her family's farm. Her father took the feed and took care of Daisy.

As Donna left their barn she saw that the skies were dark gray, and the clouds curled and collapsed overhead. A thunderstorm was most certainly coming. She went inside and prepared the table for dinner.

Throughout the rest of the day, Donna's mind could not stay focused. The thought of William perturbed her every notion. She hoped her family did notice her mental distance, for they would most certainly be ashamed of her lust, being Amish and all. After dinner was completed, she noticed no sign of her parents perceiving her strangely, and she was relieved. As the sky out of their windows became darker, Donna sat in her rocking chair and in vain, tried to crochet. Her hands were far too shaky to even thread one needle. To her surprise, her mother and father appeared before her, dressed in their Sunday best, as if they were prepared to leave.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes," her father said, "We have promised the Yoders that we would assist them with their ailing mother. Though I fear she may leave us for the next world soon."

Donna's mother added, "We may have to stay with them for the night. We'll trust you to look after the house. If it's not too much trouble, there is some cream in the barn that needs to be churned, but don't feel obligated."

Donna nodded, and raised from her chair to bid her parents a proper goodbye, because again, Amish. Once they were gone, the weather became unruly, and rain pelted against the side of the house. Donna was still worked up over William. She tried to turn her thoughts elsewhere, but nothing she did could pry them away. Finally she flung open the back door and ran to the barn. There, in the middle of the room, was the churner, standing tall, with an aura of fate about it.

By the time she had reached the barn, Donna was soaking wet. Her dress clung to her form, and she could feel the added weight. Her bonnet had come undone, and rather than adjust it, she ripped it from her head, and her long hair fell around her. The rain had penetrated the bonnet, and her hair was also wet, it formed into thicker strands, one of which kept dangling over her right eye. A single drop of rain rolled from atop her head and slowly tickled its way down her soft, feminine, Amish cheek.

With purpose she grabbed the stool and dragged it to the churner where she sat down and slowly began to pull the plunger up and down. All the while, the rain beat against the barn's roof, and thunder echoed in the distance. After a few minutes, the cream began to harden and plunger became more difficult to manipulate. Donna began to feel frustrated and finally let go, with an anguished moan. As she peeled away, she looked up, and there, standing in the doorway was William.

"William," Donna exclaimed, out of breath. She quickly made an attempt to tidy her hair, and pull her dress in a way that wasn't so revealing. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you were alone tonight," William said as he stepped forth. His face was one of concern and tender warmth. "I just came to see if you needed any assistance with the chores."

Donna stared at him. Still out of breath, her pert young breasts rose and fell with each pant. "You're quite the chivalrous one, aren't you?"

William nodded. "Yes.... I'm Amish." He stepped towards her. "You're not raising the plunger high enough. Here, let me show you." As he approached, he removed his shirt. This was socially acceptable. As he stepped around her, Donna raised her eyes to look above, and exhaled deeply. His hands came around and wrapped over hers on the plunger. "Like this."

Together they raised the plunger high, and slowly brought it down. They both could feel the white cream in the barrel, tumbling about, hardening. As they churned, William repositioned himself, placing his arms underneath Donna's. As he did, his arm briefly brushed against her breasts.

Donna's lips trembled. They began to churn faster, and faster. Then they'd go slower. Then faster. Their churning seemed to come to a climax, and with a final thrust, the plunger came from the top of the barrel, and white cream burst into the sky and all over Donna and William. They fell back. Each in the other's arms and panted heavily.

"That was amazing," Donna said. "I've never felt anything like it."

"Aye," William said.

They rested there on the floor of the barn, for quite some time. Finally Donna said, "I think we have more cream." And they did, because they were Amish.