I Discovered My Mother's Secret Among the Cornstalks

What I’m about to tell you is short, but it left its mark on me. That afternoon among the cornstalks, I discovered that there was something in me that enjoyed watching without being seen, knowing things nobody else knew. I had just turned twenty-four and had recently returned to the village after living in the city for a long time.

My father owned some land on the outskirts of Santa Elena, a village more than an hour’s drive from our home. Almost every weekend, he went to oversee the harvest or negotiate the purchase of a neighboring plot. When I was a boy, he used to drag me along with him, but I’d never liked the countryside: I ended up hauling sacks alongside the farmhands under the sun, so over the years I stopped going with him.

That season, with nothing better to do, I decided to go a couple of times. My father proudly introduced me to all the workers, patting me on the back and telling them what a good son I was for coming back to the ranch. He spoke of them as if they were family, never suspecting that one of those men did more than just work his land.

Two weeks later I went back again, but this time my mother came with us.

I need to explain something about her so that everything else makes sense. My mother had never been a pretty-faced woman, but she had a body that made heads turn anywhere she went. Wide hips, large breasts, a waist that still showed despite her age. And she knew it. She always dressed to make sure people noticed: low-cut blouses, tight pants, skirts shorter than was proper for a woman her age. My father, who had been insanely jealous when he was young, had eventually given up. It was easier to pretend not to notice than to fight.

That morning she arrived at the ranch in a summer skirt and a lightweight blouse, and I immediately noticed how the men stopped working to watch her climb down from the pickup. They exchanged glances and murmured among themselves. My mother walked toward the ranch house with the confidence of someone who enjoyed being watched.

“I’ll stay here and get something ready to eat,” she said. “You go on ahead; we’ll all eat afterward.”

My father and a group of farmhands headed toward the more distant cornfields, where there was a problem with the irrigation. I followed them for a while, without much enthusiasm, until I got tired of walking among the tall plants in the heat. I told my father I was going back to the pickup and retraced my path alone.

***

The corn was almost ready for harvest, towering above my head, so I moved half-blindly between the rows. When I was beginning to approach the pickups, I heard some noises. At first I thought it was some animal from the fields and paid no attention. But with every step they became clearer, and suddenly I understood they didn’t belong to any animal.

They were moans. A woman’s voice and, underneath it, a man’s heavy breathing.

I froze. I should have coughed, made some noise, let them know someone was there. Instead, I slipped between the rows, following the sound, my heart pounding against my chest. About a hundred yards from the pickup, in a clearing someone had made among the corn, I found them.

There was a blanket and some old sacks spread across the ground. And on top of them, a woman with her legs spread wide and a man on top of her, his cock buried to the root, thrusting hard. I crouched behind the plants, holding my breath, ready to back away as soon as I understood what I was seeing.

Then I recognized the shoes lying off to one side. And the summer skirt crumpled on the sacks. And the open blouse, her huge tits bouncing on her chest with every thrust, the dark nipples hard as stones.

It was my mother.

For a second I stood there frozen, unable to breathe. The first thing I thought was the worst: that the man was hurting her, that I had to run and get my father. But then I heard her voice clearly.

“That’s it, don’t stop… harder, fuck me harder, split my cunt open,” she panted, her hands gripping the man’s arms, her nails digging into his skin.

They weren’t forcing her. She was enjoying herself like I had never heard her enjoy anything before. She was begging for cock like a bitch in heat.

The man was still wearing his shirt, and the pale skin of his back gleamed with sweat. From where I was, I couldn’t see his face, only the movement of his hips sinking between my mother’s legs again and again, without rest. Every thrust drew a wet smack from my mother’s cunt, the sound of wet flesh slapping wet flesh carrying as clearly as her moans. She answered him with her whole body, lifting her hips to receive him, crossing her ankles over his ass to drive him deeper.

“All of it, give me all of it,” she begged, mouth open. “Don’t leave a single inch outside.”

I know I should have left. But I couldn’t move. Something about the scene had me pinned to the ground, watching, caught between shame, disgust, and an excitement I found hard to acknowledge. I was getting hard watching my own mother fuck, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

***

The man pulled away for a moment, still on his knees, catching his breath. When he came out of her, I saw his entire cock: thick, long, glistening with my mother’s juices, pointing toward the sky with its veins swollen. My mother remained lying there, waiting, her chest rising and falling, her cunt open and red, her thighs still trembling. It was then, when he turned his head slightly to look at her, that I recognized him.

It was Damián, the youngest of all the farmhands. He had only been working at the ranch for a few months and was barely a few years older than me. My father had told me, laughing, that when he arrived he didn’t even know how to hold a shovel, but that he learned quickly. What my father didn’t know was everything Damián had learned to do in the meantime, and everything he was stuffing into his wife among the rows.

He wasn’t a striking man. Thin, with no muscles, and a couple of faded tattoos near his navel. But the cock hanging between his legs was another story: thick at the base, with a red, swollen head, dripping with saliva and my mother’s juices. And there he was, taking his time with the woman the boss liked to claim as his own.

Damián stood and moved toward my mother’s face. Without him asking, she turned until she was on all fours and grabbed his cock with both hands. She looked at it for a second as if it were a trophy, then put it in her mouth all the way to the root, without gagging, as if she had done it a thousand times before.

What followed was something I had never imagined my own mother doing. She sucked with an endless hunger, pulling his entire cock out with a wet pop and swallowing it again up to the balls, her tongue working underneath it. Saliva ran down her chin and fell in thick drops onto her hanging tits. When he held the back of her head and pushed her down, she didn’t pull away: she opened her throat wider and let him drive it all the way in, her eyes watering and a smile smeared with drool.

“That’s it,” he murmured, looking down at her. “That’s how I like it, slut. Swallow the whole thing like you know how.”

“Mmm,” she answered with her mouth full, without letting go, then sucked his balls one at a time, licking them with the tip of her tongue.

I remained hidden, my throat dry. And then I felt, with uncomfortable clarity, that I was rock-hard, my cock pressed against the fabric of my trousers and throbbing. Hard while watching my mother suck another man’s cock. The thought turned my stomach, and at the same time I couldn’t stop looking.

***

Damián made her turn again and positioned himself behind her. He spread her ass cheeks with both hands, spat into his palm, and rubbed the saliva over his cock. Then he pressed it against the entrance to her cunt and drove it in with one blow, all the way to the root. My mother let out a scream that echoed off the corn. He grabbed her by the hips and began pounding her with such force that she cried out against the blanket with every thrust. Her body was completely filled, her broad hips marked with the red imprints of his hands, her big ass trembling with every hard blow.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she repeated, lost, without the slightest shame. “Split me open, daddy, split my cunt, that’s what I give it to you for…”

“Look at how I swallow you,” he answered, watching his cock slide in and out, coated in her juices. “Look at how this hot old cunt sucks my cock.”

He leaned over her back, grabbed her hair, and pulled her head backward, forcing her to arch. Without letting her go, he whispered things in her ear that I could make out between the sounds of their bodies. He told her what she was, told her that the boss had no idea, that she was a slut and that she belonged to him whenever she wanted. That he had been fucking her all over the ranch for months—in the storeroom, in the barn, against the grain sacks. And my mother, far from being offended, answered yes to every word, moaning louder and moving her ass backward to impale herself on him.

“I’m yours, I’m your slut, the farmhand’s slut,” she panted. “Fuck me harder, give me all of it…”

I don’t know when my hand ended up inside my trousers. I remember it as something that happened on its own, without me deciding anything. I leaned against the stalk of a plant, pulled out my cock, and began jerking myself to their rhythm, breathing in short, broken gasps and listening carefully for any sound that might give me away. I was so hard it hurt. Every time Damián sank into my mother’s cunt, I tightened my fist and stroked myself up and down, my eyes fixed on the point where their bodies joined.

***

They went on like that for a long while. Damián let go of her hair and began slapping her ass hard, the smacks echoing among the corn and leaving marks on her skin, making her moan even louder. He pushed his thumb into her ass while continuing to fuck her cunt, and she thrust her hips backward, begging for more.

“There too, there too,” my mother pleaded. “Put it in my ass, don’t be mean…”

Damián laughed, pulled his cock from her dripping cunt, spat into his hand again, and pushed the head against the cleft of her ass. At first she let out a whimper, but soon she began rocking backward, swallowing him whole as if it were something she had been waiting for. He pounded her ass with the same force he had been fucking her with, gripping her hips while my mother’s buttocks trembled with every blow.

“What an ass you have, what an ass,” he repeated. “This expensive boss-lady ass…”

My mother slipped two fingers into her cunt and moved them while Damián drove into her from behind. I heard her choke on her own moan, tense her entire body, and begin to tremble, coming over her own fingers, her mouth open against the blanket. She was cumming and wouldn’t stop spouting obscenities, biting her knuckles and tightening her ass around Damián’s cock to milk it.

Afterward he lay almost completely on top of her, hugging her around the waist, and kept moving without pause as if he wanted to merge with her body. He bit her shoulder, squeezed her tits with both hands, kneading them until they turned red while she continued moaning beneath his weight.

I couldn’t hold out any longer. I came silently, biting my lip to keep from making a sound, my legs trembling, streams of cum falling onto the dirt and the corn leaves. So much came out that I surprised myself. But even then I couldn’t look away. I stayed there with my cock still in my hand, squeezing out the last drops, listening to the moans of the two of them, which showed no sign of stopping.

Finally, he sped up until his rhythm became desperate. He pulled his cock from her ass, plunged it back into her cunt for the final thrusts, and warned her in a hoarse voice:

“I’m coming, slut, I’m coming…”

“Not outside, inside, inside,” she answered, squeezing his ass with her heels. “Fill me completely, I want to feel it hot…”

He pulled away abruptly anyway and finished across my mother’s back, letting out a long grunt as thick streams of semen ran down her spine to the hole of her ass. He emptied himself all over her, then collapsed beside her, exhausted, his chest rising and falling like a bellows. She remained lying there, satisfied and in no hurry to move, his cum running down her back, her cunt open and dripping.

After a while she slipped two fingers between her legs, gathered up what was dripping from her, and brought them to her mouth, sucking them as if they were honey. Damián watched her with a tired, satisfied smile.

When I saw Damián stretch out to reach his clothes and my mother begin to sit up, I reacted. I adjusted my still-soft cock inside my trousers as best I could, turned around, and walked as quickly and quietly as possible between the rows, moving away from the clearing. My heart was beating so hard I was sure they would hear it.

I reached the pickup, sat down in the shade, and tried to breathe normally. A few minutes later my mother appeared, her hair combed, her skirt back in place, carrying a tray of food as if nothing had happened. She smiled at me with such natural ease that it left me cold. No one would have guessed that a little earlier she’d had one cock in her mouth and another in her ass.

“Did you get tired of the countryside so quickly?” she asked, serving me a plate.

“It was really hot in there,” I answered, without looking her in the eyes.

A little later Damián arrived from the other side, wiping his forehead with his shirt and greeting my father respectfully. My father clapped him on the shoulder and thanked him for the day’s work. I lowered my eyes to my plate, thinking about the cum that was surely still dripping between my mother’s thighs beneath her summer skirt.

***

I never told my father anything. No one else, either. I kept the entire scene to myself, every detail, for years. In time I realized that my mother probably hadn’t been doing it for the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last; knowing her, more than one farmhand must have passed through that clearing among the corn, and more than one cock must have emptied itself inside her while my father signed papers in the house.

What did change was something in me. From that afternoon on, I learned that what really turns me on isn’t touching, but watching. Knowing what other people hide, observing without being seen, discovering the secret beating beneath calm smiles. That cornfield awakened the voyeur inside me, and even today, whenever the wind moves through a field of corn, I get hard on my own and return to that afternoon when I discovered who my mother truly was—and who I was beginning to become.