When I was 19, I got an internship at a big farm. It was out in the country, with fields all around and muddy paths. The farmer was Irma, a tough 45-year-old woman who ran everything by herself. She didn’t have a husband or kids—just cows, sheep, and some chickens. Her hair was short and turning gray, tied up messy, and her hands were rough from working hard. She wasn’t fancy, but she had a strong body—wide hips and big boobs that hid under her old overalls. I liked looking at her, even if she was older. [Photo NikoleMe].
The first few weeks were tough. I woke up at 5 a.m. to milk cows, carried heavy hay bales until my arms hurt, and learned how to do farm stuff. Irma was strict but fair. She’d tell me if I messed up, but at the end of the day, she’d pat my shoulder and say, “Good job, kid.” After a while, I noticed something. She started watching me more—like when I took my shirt off to wash up after work. She’d laugh at my jokes and sometimes touch my back a little too long. I was young and new to this, but I could tell she liked me. It made me think about her a lot.
A Night with Beer and Heat
One Friday night, after all the work was done, the farm got quiet. The sun was going down, painting the sky red. I sat on an old wooden bench outside the barn, my body sore but happy. Irma came out with two beers in her hands. She wore a worn-out shirt half-open, showing her big boobs under a thin undershirt, and tight pants that hugged her strong thighs. “Here, kid,” she said in her rough voice, sitting close. Her leg pressed against mine, and I felt her warmth.
We drank quietly, the beer cold and strong. After the second one, Irma started talking, her voice deeper. “You work hard,” she said, looking right at me. “I like that. Not many guys your age can keep up.” I smiled, shy, my face warm from the beer. Then she leaned closer, her breath smelling like beer and hay. “You know, I haven’t had a man in a long time,” she said, putting her hand on my thigh. My heart jumped. “But you’re here now.” Her fingers squeezed a little, and I felt a rush down below.
Irma Makes Me Follow Her
Before I could think, she pulled me up. “Come with me,” she growled, grabbing my wrist tight. She took me to the barn, where dim light came through the wooden cracks. It smelled like straw and cow poop, mixed with her sweaty scent from a long day. She pushed me against some hay bales, her eyes shining with something wild. “I’ve seen you staring,” she said, her voice strong and bossy. “You think I didn’t notice? Now you’re gonna do what I say.” My mouth went dry, my dick got hard in my pants, and I knew I couldn’t say no—even if I wanted to.
She yanked off her shirt, dropping it on the ground. Her big boobs spilled out, pale and heavy, with dark nipples already stiff. She grabbed my head with both hands, her rough fingers digging into my hair. “Get on your knees,” she ordered, and I dropped, half scared, half excited. She pulled her pants down—no underwear—and there it was: her unwashed pussy, covered in thick, dark hair, wet and shiny from sweat and her juices. The smell hit me hard, strong and dirty, like the farm itself. “Lick me,” she growled, shoving my face right into it.
Forced to Lick Her: Dirty and Hot
I couldn’t fight her. Her hands held me tight, my nose buried in her hairy bush, and I stuck out my tongue. The first taste was wild—salty, sour, like earth after rain. She moaned loud, pushing her hips against my mouth. “Yeah, like that, kid,” she gasped, her voice rough. “Lick my pussy good.” I did what she said, sliding my tongue over her clit, tasting her wet, sweaty mess. She wasn’t clean, not sweet-smelling, but that made it hotter. Her bossy grip, her raw horniness—it drove me crazy.
She spread her legs wider, her thick thighs shaking as I went deeper. My tongue found her hole, warm and slippery, and I licked harder, sucking her clit while she moaned and cursed. “Fuck, you’re good,” she growled, pulling my hair until it hurt. Her juices ran down my chin, my face soaked, and my dick was rock-hard, throbbing in my pants. She shoved me harder into her, her pussy rubbing all over my mouth, and I could barely breathe—but I didn’t want to stop. Her smell, her taste, her force—it was everything I didn’t know I needed.
After what felt like forever, she yanked my head back. My face was wet with her, my breath fast. “Stand up,” she ordered, and I did, my legs shaky. She ripped my pants down, my dick popped out, hard and red. Irma looked at it, a hungry grin on her face. “You’re gonna fuck me,” she said, turning around and bending over a hay bale. Her ass stuck up, her pussy open and dripping. “No bullshit, get in there, now.”
I stepped closer, my hands on her wide hips, and pressed my tip against her unwashed pussy. The smell was strong, but I was too turned on to care. I pushed in with one thrust, her heat and wetness swallowing me, and she moaned loud. “Harder, kid,” she growled, and I slammed into her, my hips smacking her big ass. She was tight for an older woman, squeezing me, and I felt her sweat and juices coat my dick. “Cum in me,” she commanded, her voice hard, and I lost it.
I fucked her fast, the hay bale creaking, my balls slapping her. Her moans filled the barn, rough and wild, and I felt it building—that heat, that pressure. “Now!” she yelled, and I exploded, my cum shooting deep into her dirty pussy, over and over, while she shook and came too, her insides pulling every drop out of me. We panted, sweaty, my dick still inside her, and she laughed rough. “Good job, kid,” she said, and I knew this internship was changed forever.
I lay there, catching my breath, her smell all over me. She stood up, wiped her thighs, and smirked. “You’re mine now, kid. Get ready for more.” I nodded, already hard again, hooked on her.
