The farmer’s son

An poor old farmer was on his deathbed when he called his
three teenage sons into his room. He beckoned them to come
“Sons,” he said in hardly a whisper, “I am very old; I am
about to die. You know that we are certainly not rich. I have
very little to will to you, only the land we are living on. But
here’s the problem: I can only leave it to one of you.”
The three sons looked at each other.
“So,” the farmer continued, “I have decided on a course of
action. Each of you will take one of the three identical ducks
that hatched last year. You will go to market and sell the
duck, and come back here. Whoever sells their duck for the most
money gets the property.”
So the three sons go to the barnyard and each picks up a
duck. Then they all walk down to market, where they split up,
in search of a buyer.
The first, youngest son goes to the butcher and sells his
duck for ten dollars.
The middle son sells his duck to the pillowmaker for twenty
The oldest, 19 year old son, Andrew, is walking down the
street, musing about where to best sell his duck. Suddenly he
sees an absolutely gorgeous 18 year old girl in a daring, very
short dress. He is mesmerized by her swaying, tantalizing hips
and full, almost completely exposed breasts. He crosses the
street and confronts her.
“Oh, what an adorable pet!” she cries, stroking the duck.
“I’m selling it,” Andrew exclaims to her cleavage. The girl
doesn’t notice this, she is petting the duck.
“I would love to buy it,” she says wistfully, “but I don’t
have any money.” Suddenly she stands up, flipping her long,
golden locks over her shoulder invitingly. “Unless, of course,
you would be willing to accept some other form of payment.” She
steps very close to Andrew, who was quite good-looking himself.
“Sure,” Andrew squeaks, and together they walk to the motel.
After nearly an hour of physical bliss and multiple spasms,
Andrew lay exhausted on the bed. The girl turned to him and
tried to start up again, but the son held up a hand and panted,
“Sorry, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I can’t take
any more. I am spent!”
The girl looked stricken and cried, “Oh, no, please, just
one more time! You are incredible!” Her voice had a seductive
hunger in it that made Andrew want to go over it again, but he
knew his penis could not take any more for a while. So he got
up and, shaking, dressed. As he closed the motel room door, he
glanced at the girl, still lying sensuously on the bed.
Leaving the motel, he suddenly realized, “I’m supposed to be
selling that duck for money! I need that duck to get the farm!”
So Andrew dashed into the motel and headed up the stairs to
the room he had just left. He burst through the door, just as
the girl got up off the bed. She stood there, the very
goddess-like image of femininity, and he was very glad to do
what he had to do.
“Will you give me the duck back if we do it again?”
In response, the girl attacked him like a lioness, tearing
off his clothes and pulling him forcefully down onto the bed.
It was heaven all over again, and he stayed there for over an
hour this time, thrusting his manhood into her pussy over and
over again, the whole time feeling her all over and kissing her.
By the time they finished, Andrew wasn’t sure if he would ever
be able to use his penis again. Glancing at the shaking,
sweating girl, he knew he would, but not for a while. So he got
up for good this time, and the girl did not ask him to stay.
She couldn’t speak.
When he was dressed, he took the duck and walked outside
into the sunlight. Just as he was crossing the road, the duck
flapped out of his arms and was hit by a bus. The bus driver
stopped and got out.
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry!” he said. “I will pay you for
that duck. Let me see…” he reached into his pocket and
brought out some money. He counted it. “Will twenty-eight
dollars be enough?”
“I guess so,” said Andrew, and took the money and went home.
He was the last one to arrive, not surprisingly. Finally he
entered the room where his father and two younger sons were
“Well,” said the father, “Timmy has sold his duck for ten
dollars, and Greg for twenty dollars. How about you?”
“Well, father:
I got a fuck for a duck,
And a duck for a fuck,
And twenty-eight dollars
for a fucked-up duck!”