I [18M] Got to Fuck The Beekeeper’s Gorgeous Wife [45F] In Exchange For a Week of Farm Chores [MF] [Str8] [MILF] [First Time]

When I was 18 years old and just about ready to to head off to college, I began taking odd jobs. This was the oddest one of all. I agreed to do one week of labor for Mr. McNeil. He owned a farm down the road.

*(Skip down to the ???? if you want to get right to the porn!)*

“Listen Steve,” the beekeeper said when he hired me, “there’s a lot of manly duties around here that I haven’t been able to attend to since my back got worse. You’ll be helping my wife run the farm while I get some of my hives out mid-state and do my pollinating circuit. I’ll be gone a week.”

We were at his kitchen table and a jar of his signature McNeil honey was between us. This jar was emblazoned with the words “Private Stock”. I’d never seen that variety before. The sun shone down on it and made it glow bright golden yellow. Basically, I’d get $400 to do farm chores. He emphasized that he wanted someone who knew what the fuck he was doing and that if I didn’t know something I was to let his wife teach me. He told me that if I attended her closely she would be extremely kind. If I showed myself to be a slacker, though, he said I’d be dealing with “a real wretched bitch of a ball-buster.” I assured him I’d work hard.

“And listen son,” he took on a stern tone. “If you do a good job you’re going to get a bonus, too. A little something extra to help with school.”

So I took the job and got to work helping out. Annabelle McNeil was significantly younger than her husband. She was 45 years old and had eyes that were emerald green. Her chestnut-brown hair ran down her back in two long Dutch braids. She was rarely outside without her cowboy hat so her skin was in better shape than some women her age. Freckled, but not overly tanned. She was often in denim overalls that accentuated how her womanly hips flared out from her slender waist. And her breasts! Oh fuck, they looked like perfect handfuls. She looked like she belonged in a Frank Frazetta painting. If there were a time in my life that I did not have a crush on Mrs McNeil then I can’t remember it.

We worked side by side throughout the week. I didn’t find her to be bitchy at all, so I suppose my work ethic met with her approval. She told me about her life and her marriage and I talked about my plans for college and life out of state. Sometimes she’d make cryptic comments about me having a “baboon heart” but she’d always refuse to explain them.

One day in the stables she asked me about my former girlfriends with the same curiosity I imagine she had when she’d select a romance novel to read. I noticed she had a library full of them. I chuckled and told her that I didn’t have any good stories about that. The only two girlfriends I ever had were the “wait for marriage” type.

She was in the midst of brushing Grace, her favorite mare when I heard her brush stop. She turned her head around slowly and looked at me with wide eyes.

“*You’re* a virgin?” She scanned me with her eyes like she was appraising a thoroughbred. “Bullshit, son. You look like a young Christian Slater. Don’t shine me on.”

I just blushed and looked back down at the harness I was repairing.

“You really aren’t joking, are you? You on the girls’ team?” She cocked her head “You a holy roller?”

“No on all accounts, Mrs. McNeil,” I said, looking back up at her, amused by her shock. I brushed my hair out of my eyes.

“Awww….” she cooed. “So many boys would have just worn those girls down. What a *gentleman* you are for not pressuring them!” She put her hands on her hips and shook her head as if she couldn’t believe how precious that was. She smiled a perfect set of pearly whites. I felt as proud as ever and bent my head to my task.

I really do try to be a gentleman. I did my best to keep my eyes off Mrs. McNeil’s ass, but it was hard because she was so frequently bent over. Even if I saw her from the side it was difficult. The way her overalls framed her body made for perfect side-boob, since her t-shirt was form-fitting and clingy. She was a short woman, about 5 feet tall; so she needed to use a ladder often. Whenever she climbed or descended it she’d insist that I hold her waist, since the ladder was known to wobble.

I’m only human. Sometimes I would sneak behind the barn or the chicken coops and just jack myself off thinking about her. I longed to know what it felt like to hold a beautiful pair of breasts. Or I’d picture myself bending her over at the waist and watching my cock disappear between those pillowy ass cheeks of hers as I plowed her pussy relentlessly. The work was a welcome distraction. There was a lot to do so the week flew by quickly.

Mrs. McNeil and I were picking blackberries together on the final day out near the hives. She smiled at me with teeth stained slightly blue.

“Before you leave today I’ll pay you out. You’ve been so attentive and full of energy these past seven days. I’ll give you a bonus. You’ve earned it.”

I gave her a questioning look as I filled my basket. Bees were busying themselves around us in the hot air. The berries were bursting and were really sweet.

“Mr. McNeil didn’t actually say how much the bonus was.”

She gave me a wry smile. “You must have seen it, though. The jar on the table. That’s the *premium* honey. Mr. McNeil has *never* given from his private stock before. That jar is *yours*.”

My heart lurched. *”That’s what I’ve been working my ass off for?”* I thought.

“Umm, actually Mrs. McNeil, he said my bonus would be to help out with school.”

I reached into the bramble and must have offended the swarm somehow. A bee buzzed angrily and and stung me behind the ear.

“Fuck!” I yelled, dropping my basket. I was suddenly being dive-bombed from all angles.

“Just stay calm! Don’t swat them!” She said. She took me by the hand and hurried me away. Her two long braids bounced and flew as we ran toward the house.

Several bees got down my shirt, and another one of them nailed me on the back before we got inside. There were a few angrily buzzing inside my clothing when we found ourselves back in the kitchen. She shut the door, barricading us inside.

“Take your shirt off,” she demanded. I was preoccupied with trying to get the stinger out of my earlobe and patting myself down wherever I felt movement. She grabbed shirt between the buttons and yanked like she was opening a set of curtains. She pulled my shirt off and had me sit down at the kitchen table. With three precise motions her hand shot out and she pinched the three surviving bees right out of the air, not missing miss once. She wiped the dead insects off on her pants.

“Stop rubbing! Let me help you,” she said, as she had me bow my head forward. In front of me sat my bonus. The jar was still sitting on the sturdy oak table, aglow in the sun. “You’ve mashed the stinger in too deep. I can’t get it with my fingers.” She brought her head close and examined me throbbing ear. “You’re going to swell,” she added.

“Mrs. McNeil….”

“Annabelle” she corrected me. Her breath felt hot against my skin.

“Fine. *Annabelle.* Look, no disrespect, but I think I need to leave after this. I really did not think my bonus was going to be a jar of honey.”

“Shhhhhhhh…….”

“I need money for books and—“

*“Shhhhhhhh……”*

She put her mouth on the reverse side of my earlobe and began circling the stinger with her tongue. I could feel her homing in on her target, trying to get it to stand straighter. She sucked at my skin, trying to bite down on it. After several attempts I felt her get the stinger between her teeth and she pulled it out. She spat it onto her fingers and put it next to the jar. She crouched beside me and looked at me. I returned her look and I felt my anger melt away. She was gorgeous. She had a red polka dot kerchief in her hair. She smelled like sweat and earth and fruit. She smelled like a woman.

“Let me get the other one out,” she said, her voice soft.

She had me stand up and put my hands flat on the sturdy oak kitchen table. She kissed along my back and reached one arm around me, putting her hand on my abs. I felt her tongue circling the stubby remains of the mashed stinger in my right shoulder blade and she gently sucked at it. *”God, that feels nice!”* My dick was standing at attention. I felt her hand reach around my hip and she rubbed the front of my pants, tracing the outline of my cock. I had my eyes closed and just decided to enjoy this. Her teeth clamped down on the stinger and yanked it out. She spat it onto the floor.

????

“Turn around,” she said.

I did. She pulled me down onto her mouth and kissed me hungrily. She tasted like blackberries. I sucked on her tongue greedily and she pawed at my pants, undoing the button and unzipping me. I stood there grinning after she broke off kissing me and she started jacking me off. She didn’t even look at my dick as she did it. She just kept smiling at me as my arousal grew.

“You like that?” She asked, sweetly, as she gently pumped my dick up and down. “Does that feel nice?”

*”Yes, it does!”*

I tried to verbalize the thought but it just came out as a groan. I nodded and tried not to let the pleasure contort my smile too ridiculously. I brushed my hair out of my eyes and I began to tense up. I leaned back against the large, square oak table and braced myself. She seemed to sense what was happening and pumped my cock in shorter, more vigorous strokes until I blasted spurts of cum all across the front of her overalls. Her tits were jiggling under her shirt as her arm moved. They were perfectly framed by the garment’s slim shoulder straps.

She stepped forward and ran her hands across my chest, tracing the contours of my torso.

“Are you saving that V-card for a special girl?” she asked me, “…because if you aren’t, I can definitely help prepare you prepare for your college years.” She yanked my cock mischievously. “Now I just cleaned your pipes in order help you make a clearheaded-decision. So if you’re saving that card for someone special then we can stop right here.”

I looked at her directly. “Mrs. McNeil… you *are* someone special.”

She inhaled sharply and her hand flew up to her mouth. For a second I thought she might cry. Just as quick as blowing out a candle, though, she started grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

She pulled off her shoes and socks and dodged around me, quickly mounting the sturdy kitchen table. When I turned around she was kneeling near the edge, facing me. Not taking her eyes off me for an instant, she slipped off her shoulder straps. She pulled her t-shirt off and flung it away. Her bra was next. She took the jar of of Mr. McNeil’s private stock in her hands and opened it onto herself, drizzling a small amount of the golden, sticky honey across the top of her bosom. She stuck out her chest and I was transfixed by the diverging rivulets that went down between the valley of her cleavage. Some of them wended their way down to her pale, pink nipples and dripped slowly off them.

“Don’t be shy about it, son, ” she breathed, “Come and get your bonus.”

I started licking the honey off her nipples. I squeezed her bosom from the sides and cleaned up the sweet mess she had made. I methodically kissed her everywhere the honey had been poured. I was drawn back down to her nipples and I enjoyed how they stiffened when I circled them with my tongue and stroked them with my thumbs. I looked up into her green eyes and she nodded at me slowly.

“Good,” she whispered, dreamily; “just like that.”

I kept having my eyes drawn down to the curves of her waist and hips. I put my hands there and felt her soft, feminine flesh.

“God, Mrs—, I mean Annabelle. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“So are you, son,” she giggled, “That’s why you’re here.”

I slid my hands down her back. Soon they rested between the seat of her denim overalls and her cotton panties. One of my palms on each ass cheek. She rose, no longer sitting on her heels. I pushed her pants down her thighs so they pooled where her knees met the table.

“I want to touch your pussy…. Is that ok?”

“You do whatever you want to me, handsome. If I don’t like it I’ll let you know.”

I moved aside the crotch of her panties and stuck one of my fingers into her warm, wet pussy. I moved it in and out, marvelling at how erotic it felt to touch her there. She pushed my hand away and hopped off the table. She slid out of the rest of her clothing and kicked it away. She tried to hop back onto the table but I seized her before she could. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed along the back of her neck between her two braids. She moaned and swiveled her hips so that her plump ass jostled against my cock. I kissed along her neck to her shoulder and she writhed slowly in my arms. My left hand played with her tits and my right hand was groping at the moist junction of her legs. My dick was rebounding.

“Mmmmm…… Don’t just caress the nipple…. Pluck at it.”

I did. I alternated between her nipples and just observed her responses in order to gauge how to do it properly. They hardened and became puffy underneath my fingers as I lightly pulled at them. She wiggled and pressed her bottom against my hardening dick.

“Yes!” She barked suddenly, “Oh fuck, Steve… yeah, you’ve got the knack of it. *OH!* Let me go! Hands off for a sec…..”

I released her and stood back. She clambered onto the kitchen table again, naked as a rose petal, aside from her head kerchief. She knelt on all fours and presented her ass. She pushed it toward me like a cat stretching and I took a shuddering breath. Her cunt peeked out between the pale, creamy white hemispheres and I could see it glistening.

“Holy fuck,” I thought, drunkenly, “I made a woman *WET!*”

I flicked my eyes away from her curvaceous ass and met her eyes. She was looking at me over her shoulder and it was obvious she was enjoying the fact that I was in awe of her body.

“Do you like my ass, Steven?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And I’ll bet you just can’t wait to be in my pussy, can you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“For the past six nights I’ve been thinking about you whenever I touch myself, Steven. Have you been thinking about me at night too? When you stroke that cock?”

“Yes ma’am. During the day as well.”

She giggled and lowered herself. Still kneeling but bringing her ass just above her heels; almost sitting on them. She grabbed the honey jar and poured a dollop over her shoulder between her Dutch braids. It ran downward along her spine and between her ass cheeks. I watched it slowly coat her asshole first, and then it oozed downward to the folds of her cunt. It pooled there and mingled with her own wetness. She raised her hips again slowly, back onto all fours. Her pink, syrupy slit began a slow drip of honey on the table.

I pulled up a seat just like I was setting down for any other meal. I positioned myself comfortably behind her and lapped at her hot, sticky cunt. I drove my tongue into her pussy. I could taste her fluids through the sweetness and my heart pounded even faster. *”I had no idea pussy tasted so good!”* I thought. Annabelle moaned wordlessly.

Her asshole was so inviting that I moved upward and began tonguing it and tasting her there. Unlike her pussy there was no other taste beyond the honey. It was just hot, puckered skin; sticky and sweet.

“Oh, Steven, YES….” she whimpered, “Your tongue is perfect. Keep doing that. MMMFF!… *AH!*”

I went back down to her pussy and licked all the honey away. I had seen enough porn to know that a woman’s clitoris is where she gets her orgasms, so I did what came naturally, just licking her and sucking wherever my mouth and lips could find purchase on it. Her breathing became more rapid as I swirled around it with my tongue and stroked it up and down rhythmically. She pushed her ass against me as I worked and I groped her flesh with both hands.

She sucked air viciously through gritted teeth and said: “Steven, OH! I’m going to cum on you Steven!” She cried out and I felt her pussy spasm against my tongue as I fucked her with it. She gushed onto me and I wiped it away by just rubbing my face around in the fleshy crevice of her ass. I licked her clean. She tasted less like honey now, but no less sweet.

She switched positions and sat on the edge of the table, right in a puddle of honey. She dangled her legs off the edge and pulled me close, arms around my neck. She kissed me and looked down at my dick, which was ready again. The jar was suddenly in her hands and she poured a liberal amount of honey onto my hard, erect cock.

She hopped off the table and knelt in front of me. She gripped my throbbing shaft in her strong little hand and licked along my length. She circled the head and curled her tongue along the ridges of the head of my cock before enveloping me. She closed her eyes and sucked on my cock with her beautiful little mouth. It felt magical. I resisted the urge to thrust my hips. I reached down and gently took one of her Dutch braids in each of my hands and tugged them in time with how her mouth bobbed up and down on my dick. She flicked her green eyes up to me and pulled my cock out of her mouth, took a deep breath and smiled.

“Let’s fuck” she said.

We left the kitchen and went into the living room where, with the assistance of the couch, she could bend over more comfortably. She knelt on the leather sofa with her knees together. I grabbed my dick and rubbed the swollen head up and down against the wetness of her pussy.

“Steve…” She pleaded “Fuck me now, please. I need to feel a cock inside of me.”

She pushed back against me and her flesh was parted by my swollen dick as I slid snugly inside her. She moaned like an animal.

“Holy shit… that feels so fucking *good*, Annabelle.”

“Mmmmm… is that pussy just as good as you’d hoped?”

“Better….” I groaned.

I grabbed her hips and started fucking her warm, tight pussy with no heed for making it last a long time. I was greedy for her cunt and I pounded her backside rapidly enough that the impact of each thrust make her plump asscheeks jiggle like the mattress of a waterbed. I was astonished to find I wasn’t ready to cum immediately and I estimated I might be able to last a few minutes.

“Yes! Yes! YES! *YESS!*” she crooned as our flesh clapped. I gawked shamelessly at her pussy. I loved the sight of my dick disappearing into her warm, sticky entrance. The walls of her cunt embraced my shaft and make me slick with her wetness. “Oh, *FUCK* me, Steve. Cum inside my pussy! I *want* it!”

I kept pumping away at her and felt her pussy start to spasm for a second time and she shrieked with pleasure. The increased tightness around my cock sent me tumbling over the edge and I finished with one final, savage thrust as deep into her I could go. I felt myself spurting within her. She was looking over her shoulder at me with a lusty, slack-jawed expression. I kept thrusting until my dick was too limp to continue. She wiggled her bottom against me and I noticed her spine was still coated with honey.

“Don’t move yet,” I told her. I leaned over her and licked along her spine. I reached underneath her and felt the weight of her tits as I worked my tongue up and down her back; tasting Mr. McNeil’s private stock for the final time that day.

We didn’t fuck again, but we took a shower together and Mrs. McNeil — Annabelle, very tolerantly allowed me to soap her up and roam my hands all over her slippery naked body during the wash. I jerked off a final time behind her as we enjoyed the hot spraying water. She bent over for me when I was about to cum and let me shoot it all over her creamy, fleshy bottom.

Before I left we chatted at the kitchen table. (The final chore I performed was helping to clean it.) The jar sat between us, half empty. She paid me my $400 and gave me additional counsel about how to sling dick without breaking hearts.

As I strolled away from the house Mr. McNeil was just pulling up the lane in his hive-laden truck. He rolled down his window and greeted me warmly. He noted the half-empty jar in my hand and a chain of conflicting emotions dragged across his face before he met my eyes again.

“Thanks for your help, son. It’s— It’s appreciated…….” He cocked his head. “I take it that Mrs. McNeil taught you a few things. You didn’t run afoul of her temper?”

“Not at all, sir,” I told him. “She was very sweet.”

*FIN*

*Special thanks goes out to u/adventuresofaTBD who was kind enough to lend me her vast technical and creative expertise while reviewing the final draft of this story for a mere pittance. Lily, you rock.*

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/hnf0l4/i_18m_got_to_fuck_the_beekeepers_gorgeous_wife