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I'm Iolanda I'm fifty years old, and for more than thirty-five years I've been living in this large farm immersed in the Tuscan Maremma. One hundred hectares of cultivated land, vineyards, olive groves, and two hundred between cows and calves in the large stable. Plus tractors and various equipment, and five helpers, who work with me every day, to make the farm work. I came here from a small village in Sicily, in the province of Enna, thanks to an advertisement, where they were looking for a girl to help with the household chores, to run the house. For the first three years I only ever worked, and sent the earnings home to my mother so that she could feed my brothers and my family, abandoned by a father who emigrated to America in search of fortune, and never returned.
Then my master's wife, who would later become my husband, fell ill, and within two months she went to her maker, leaving everyone in dismay and despair.
And six months later, one evening, the master found him in my bed, fresh from a consoling drunkenness, in the grip of the fumes of alcohol, he practically possessed me in spite of me, even though I did not do much to prevent this from happening.
I remember the smell of wine coming out of his mouth, my torn underwear, and his member inside me, with a strange pain for the few blows he gave me, before falling asleep with his cock still tucked in. After six months we got married and after nine months the first child was born, followed by the second.
Then the sex ended and I just thought about them more, raising them, running the house, understanding how the farm worked. I learned everything there was to know, and my life has always been confined within the hundred hectares of the farm.
I've been a widow for a year. My husband was taken by the same disease that had struck his first wife and in a few months he left. My children are now grown up, both graduates, they live and work far away, they have no attraction for the countryside, for this kind of work.
So I became the only mistress in my world and finally took over my life.
I don't consider myself a great beauty, but I'm not that bad either. I have the classic physique and features of the Mediterranean woman, dark complexion, blackberry, black eyes, a beautiful, prosperous breast. I'm not very tall, but I'm not small either, the right height for a woman.
Since I've been a widow, although my commitment and responsibilities on the farm have increased, I've started to take care of myself, which I used to do very roughly.
Twice a week I indulge in whole afternoons, where I go to a nearby town, and go to the beautician, the hairdresser, buy clothes, fine underwear, perfumes and skin and body care products.
Some people whisper that I do this because I'm looking for a male, a new husband, someone who won't make me feel lonely in bed. They think that with widowhood I've become a bit of a pig looking for someone to fuck.
At first, in fact, someone even tried to make a few advances to me, promptly refused.
Because the reason why I do these things is not to look for a man, but only for me, to enjoy my vision, to feel beautiful, at ease with myself.
Lately it has also happened to me in the evening after dinner, to wear some particularly provocative underwear, and to watch myself in the large mirror in the bedroom, pleased with my figure, while a strange sense of excitement pervades me.
I'm also strangely attracted to the models I see in fashion magazines, especially when they wear skimpy or underwear. I observe those shapes, those dark and disturbing landscapes, and strange thoughts guide me in those ravines, which I would like to explore, as a speleologist would do when he discovers a cave that has never been desecrated.
Life on the farm goes on quietly, I am more and more immersed in the management of sowings and harvests, the pressing of olives, the grape harvest, the daily milking of the cows.
The barn is modern, efficient and mechanized, and an attendant takes care of keeping everything in order, and managing the milking machine.
For the cows always to make milk they have to have a baby, and we always have some pregnant cows, so our vet, Giovanni, a great friend of my late husband's, is now one of the house.
But he is old, and has decided to leave the business to a granddaughter who has just graduated, who has been with him for a few months in the visits that they have to make every day, around the farms in the area. Often they are vaccinations, or examinations, to ensure the quality of the milk, which must not come from animals with dangerous diseases.
From time to time it is also a matter of following pregnant cows, and providing assistance during the birth.
One of my best producers is carrying out a twin birth. It is around the 35th week and it is only a short time away, so they come every three days for a check-up to make sure everything is going well.
Also this morning I know that they have to come, and they are in my study, in front of the entrance of the stable when I hear the noise of the car that crosses the big farmyard and stops just outside.
I look out and see only the granddaughter, Emma, I think she said her name was Emma.
Grandfather feels sick, and for some time she will come alone, even if in any case, that was an inevitable passage, anticipated only, by the sudden illness.
Emma is a smart little girl, not particularly beautiful, but with a frank and genuine attitude despite her sexting age, very professional. She has short black hair cut a bit 'to a boy, glasses with oval lenses, and always dresses soberly, with the thought of those who will face stables, manure, cows to inspect. Before entering the barn wear appropriate shoe covers, gloves, a long white paper gown, a cap over the hair and a mask.
Things that grandfather, linked to a veterinary culture from another generation, certainly did not do. So I see her enter the stable, reach the mother, and after having touched her, caressed her face, put an arm in her rectum, to check the fetuses, to feel where we are.
I observe her intrigued, noting the skill and knowledge of the job, despite the little practice in the field. I have had some experience in the past years, when many controls were not compulsory, and the vet was called only in very serious cases, while in all the others, my husband and I, who assisted him in dozens of parts, did the job.
Then I go and wait for her in the study, where she arrives and hands me a bag with the gown, gloves, cap, mask and shoe covers, to be thrown in the garbage.
I offer her a coffee, from the vending machine that I installed, and she accepts it gladly.
I'm the last "patient" you've seen, and you've finished the tour, so you'd be happy to have four chats.
Let's talk a bit and she tells me about her life. She doesn't have a boyfriend, first she graduated, she confessed me with a smile, and now she hopes to settle down here in the area, and then who knows, if she finds someone good, otherwise it will be the same.
She likes to see a woman running such an important business on her own, even though she tells me that her grandfather told her about the unlucky circumstances that forced me to face that situation. I start to observe her and she seems really pretty, more and more attractive, despite the jeans and the heavy sweatshirt she wears are not feminine at all.
Suddenly she tells me that it's getting late, that she has to go back to the studio, which is open for outpatient visits in the afternoon.
He greets me and as he holds out his hand, he approaches me, and as if we were old friends, he kisses me on the cheek, telling me that we could also call each other "you", as one does with friends.
I tell you, of course, it would be nice to become one.
The cow is about to give birth. This morning Emma told me that there are only a few hours left, to be careful and to check, and to call her that she would be here at any hour, not to do it alone, because it could be very risky, much more for the cow than for the calves.
We've been checking all day, and nothing in particular has happened. I make one last check before I go to sleep, and I see her lying on the ground, she has broken the water, and she looks at me with two eyes asking for help. I call immediately with my cell phone, and she answers me in a second.
After a quarter of an hour I hear her go into the barn. She's already all clogged up, with her coat and mask on.
I've already put some pots of water to warm up, we both know what to do.
Three hours later we observe two little calves that are starting to suck the milk from their mother's big swollen udders, who, after having licked and cuddled them, looks at them with satisfied eyes.
We are exhausted, it's past two o'clock, and we feel the need for something refreshing.
I prepare the water for an herbal tea, and I take out a box of pastries, which I keep for this kind of occasion.
I feel the need to take a shower, and I ask if you want to take advantage of it too. She looks at me and nods, surprising me even a little bit. Honestly, I wasn't expecting it, and I wasn't prepared for it, but I tell her to go first, that I would bring her my clean underwear, which she would then return to me.
She tells me it's okay, so I escort her to the bathroom and tell her to leave the door open, that I would leave her my clean linen and a clean bathrobe. Now I start to get excited, my thoughts run everywhere, out of control.
I think of the models in the magazines, a thousand images are spinning in my head, I have to concentrate to remember where I put things I use every day.
I finally put together those four things I'm looking for and I get to the bathroom. The door is ajar, and I feel the water flowing inside the shower cubicle. I enter and a small cloud of steam is rising, and through the knurled glass I can see his figure. It seems to me that she is standing still while she is enjoying the jet of water on her neck like a regenerative massage.
I don't know what is happening to me, but now the urge to get into that cabin is devouring me, and it has become so strong that I lose all my inhibitory brakes. I put the things I have in my hand on a shelf, and slowly I take off the suit, which I was still wearing. Then I also take off my bra and staying alone with my panties I slowly approach and slide the opening of the cabin.
Now it's in front of me in a cloud of steam, I feel the splashes that wet my legs, my belly, and I start shaking. She opens her eyes that she was keeping closed, and smiling at me she says, "come on, I've been waiting for you".
So I go in and close the slide, while the hot water gets me wet. I feel her hand resting on my side, so I move closer until I feel her skin against mine. We hug gently for a few moments, then she closes the water, and takes the bubble bath bottle. I feel the fresh soap that her hands start to spread on my skin, first on my back, then on my belly and then on my breasts. She pulls off my panties. Now the foam has started to form, thinner, and then thicker, creamier. We kiss each other on the mouth. I feel her tongue against mine, I get inside her I want to taste her. Then a hand rests on my vagina, and begins to rub slowly, forming a voluptuous foam, I feel the fingers trying to get inside, caressing those lips from which I know that all my pleasure should be born. The water starts gushing again, washes away all the soap, leaves a perfume of good sex of passion. She bends and kneels down and then puts her mouth on those lips, I can feel her tongue entering me gently and then runs on that little cricket, which I have touched many times, and each time gave me strange shivers of pleasure. But now she insists, she squeezes it slowly between my teeth, while with her tongue she stimulates it, rubs it, stronger and stronger and stronger. A warmth that I had never felt before spread through the lower abdomen followed by two or three uncontrolled spasms. I have to scream. Then my legs get soft and I slide down with her holding me slowly, and always continuing to caress me with one hand she kisses me on the mouth. It's the first orgasm of my life.
I wake up with the sun high, and the noise of a tractor fills the silence of the big yard.
I look at the time and I have a stroke. Ten o'clock in the morning. Then I realize that an arm is wrapped around my neck, and as I turn around I see her at my side under the blanket still sleeping peacefully and relaxed.
I realize that I am completely naked, and only then do I remember everything that happened, how we ended up in my bed, and the other two orgasms she made me feel, always kissing me, taking care of me. I remember that I never gave her the pleasure, and now I want to find out what it feels like, kissing a woman, savouring her moods.
I stick my head under the blanket and head between her thighs. The smell of her sex is pungent, she must have gotten wet during the night, and it drives me crazy. I sink my mouth and tongue, while I grab her breasts with my hands. I feel that she has woken up, she moves her pelvis, starts to accompany my lick. I lick and kiss her, bite her lips and bite the trigger for I don't know how long. She moans, and then she pants, while a liquid drips from her slit that tastes good, a bit sour, like fermented yoghurt. Suddenly she throws out a scream, first strangled and then more acute, while a lukewarm bow fills my mouth and I hear her jerk, I see the muscles of her abdomen contracting, and I watch her as she enjoys.
Emma moved in with me.
After her grandfather's death in a short and painful time, she took over the study, and our relationship is no longer a secret to anyone.
We let a few months go by, but then when we realized that everyone had understood by now, there was no point in trying to hide us anymore.
Already after that first morning I had noticed the mischievous looks of the workers, surely suspicious of the time, and the tender kiss they saw us exchange when we said goodbye.
And then every day at lunch and then at dinner, and then increasingly often at bedtime.
I know we're a bit on everyone's lips, but that doesn't matter, they'll have to get used to it, after all we don't do anything wrong.
Then my master's wife, who would later become my husband, fell ill, and within two months she went to her maker, leaving everyone in dismay and despair.
And six months later, one evening, the master found him in my bed, fresh from a consoling drunkenness, in the grip of the fumes of alcohol, he practically possessed me in spite of me, even though I did not do much to prevent this from happening.
I remember the smell of wine coming out of his mouth, my torn underwear, and his member inside me, with a strange pain for the few blows he gave me, before falling asleep with his cock still tucked in. After six months we got married and after nine months the first child was born, followed by the second.
Then the sex ended and I just thought about them more, raising them, running the house, understanding how the farm worked. I learned everything there was to know, and my life has always been confined within the hundred hectares of the farm.
I've been a widow for a year. My husband was taken by the same disease that had struck his first wife and in a few months he left. My children are now grown up, both graduates, they live and work far away, they have no attraction for the countryside, for this kind of work.
So I became the only mistress in my world and finally took over my life.
I don't consider myself a great beauty, but I'm not that bad either. I have the classic physique and features of the Mediterranean woman, dark complexion, blackberry, black eyes, a beautiful, prosperous breast. I'm not very tall, but I'm not small either, the right height for a woman.
Since I've been a widow, although my commitment and responsibilities on the farm have increased, I've started to take care of myself, which I used to do very roughly.
Twice a week I indulge in whole afternoons, where I go to a nearby town, and go to the beautician, the hairdresser, buy clothes, fine underwear, perfumes and skin and body care products.
Some people whisper that I do this because I'm looking for a male, a new husband, someone who won't make me feel lonely in bed. They think that with widowhood I've become a bit of a pig looking for someone to fuck.
At first, in fact, someone even tried to make a few advances to me, promptly refused.
Because the reason why I do these things is not to look for a man, but only for me, to enjoy my vision, to feel beautiful, at ease with myself.
Lately it has also happened to me in the evening after dinner, to wear some particularly provocative underwear, and to watch myself in the large mirror in the bedroom, pleased with my figure, while a strange sense of excitement pervades me.
I'm also strangely attracted to the models I see in fashion magazines, especially when they wear skimpy or underwear. I observe those shapes, those dark and disturbing landscapes, and strange thoughts guide me in those ravines, which I would like to explore, as a speleologist would do when he discovers a cave that has never been desecrated.
Life on the farm goes on quietly, I am more and more immersed in the management of sowings and harvests, the pressing of olives, the grape harvest, the daily milking of the cows.
The barn is modern, efficient and mechanized, and an attendant takes care of keeping everything in order, and managing the milking machine.
For the cows always to make milk they have to have a baby, and we always have some pregnant cows, so our vet, Giovanni, a great friend of my late husband's, is now one of the house.
But he is old, and has decided to leave the business to a granddaughter who has just graduated, who has been with him for a few months in the visits that they have to make every day, around the farms in the area. Often they are vaccinations, or examinations, to ensure the quality of the milk, which must not come from animals with dangerous diseases.
From time to time it is also a matter of following pregnant cows, and providing assistance during the birth.
One of my best producers is carrying out a twin birth. It is around the 35th week and it is only a short time away, so they come every three days for a check-up to make sure everything is going well.
Also this morning I know that they have to come, and they are in my study, in front of the entrance of the stable when I hear the noise of the car that crosses the big farmyard and stops just outside.
I look out and see only the granddaughter, Emma, I think she said her name was Emma.
Grandfather feels sick, and for some time she will come alone, even if in any case, that was an inevitable passage, anticipated only, by the sudden illness.
Emma is a smart little girl, not particularly beautiful, but with a frank and genuine attitude despite her sexting age, very professional. She has short black hair cut a bit 'to a boy, glasses with oval lenses, and always dresses soberly, with the thought of those who will face stables, manure, cows to inspect. Before entering the barn wear appropriate shoe covers, gloves, a long white paper gown, a cap over the hair and a mask.
Things that grandfather, linked to a veterinary culture from another generation, certainly did not do. So I see her enter the stable, reach the mother, and after having touched her, caressed her face, put an arm in her rectum, to check the fetuses, to feel where we are.
I observe her intrigued, noting the skill and knowledge of the job, despite the little practice in the field. I have had some experience in the past years, when many controls were not compulsory, and the vet was called only in very serious cases, while in all the others, my husband and I, who assisted him in dozens of parts, did the job.
Then I go and wait for her in the study, where she arrives and hands me a bag with the gown, gloves, cap, mask and shoe covers, to be thrown in the garbage.
I offer her a coffee, from the vending machine that I installed, and she accepts it gladly.
I'm the last "patient" you've seen, and you've finished the tour, so you'd be happy to have four chats.
Let's talk a bit and she tells me about her life. She doesn't have a boyfriend, first she graduated, she confessed me with a smile, and now she hopes to settle down here in the area, and then who knows, if she finds someone good, otherwise it will be the same.
She likes to see a woman running such an important business on her own, even though she tells me that her grandfather told her about the unlucky circumstances that forced me to face that situation. I start to observe her and she seems really pretty, more and more attractive, despite the jeans and the heavy sweatshirt she wears are not feminine at all.
Suddenly she tells me that it's getting late, that she has to go back to the studio, which is open for outpatient visits in the afternoon.
He greets me and as he holds out his hand, he approaches me, and as if we were old friends, he kisses me on the cheek, telling me that we could also call each other "you", as one does with friends.
I tell you, of course, it would be nice to become one.
The cow is about to give birth. This morning Emma told me that there are only a few hours left, to be careful and to check, and to call her that she would be here at any hour, not to do it alone, because it could be very risky, much more for the cow than for the calves.
We've been checking all day, and nothing in particular has happened. I make one last check before I go to sleep, and I see her lying on the ground, she has broken the water, and she looks at me with two eyes asking for help. I call immediately with my cell phone, and she answers me in a second.
After a quarter of an hour I hear her go into the barn. She's already all clogged up, with her coat and mask on.
I've already put some pots of water to warm up, we both know what to do.
Three hours later we observe two little calves that are starting to suck the milk from their mother's big swollen udders, who, after having licked and cuddled them, looks at them with satisfied eyes.
We are exhausted, it's past two o'clock, and we feel the need for something refreshing.
I prepare the water for an herbal tea, and I take out a box of pastries, which I keep for this kind of occasion.
I feel the need to take a shower, and I ask if you want to take advantage of it too. She looks at me and nods, surprising me even a little bit. Honestly, I wasn't expecting it, and I wasn't prepared for it, but I tell her to go first, that I would bring her my clean underwear, which she would then return to me.
She tells me it's okay, so I escort her to the bathroom and tell her to leave the door open, that I would leave her my clean linen and a clean bathrobe. Now I start to get excited, my thoughts run everywhere, out of control.
I think of the models in the magazines, a thousand images are spinning in my head, I have to concentrate to remember where I put things I use every day.
I finally put together those four things I'm looking for and I get to the bathroom. The door is ajar, and I feel the water flowing inside the shower cubicle. I enter and a small cloud of steam is rising, and through the knurled glass I can see his figure. It seems to me that she is standing still while she is enjoying the jet of water on her neck like a regenerative massage.
I don't know what is happening to me, but now the urge to get into that cabin is devouring me, and it has become so strong that I lose all my inhibitory brakes. I put the things I have in my hand on a shelf, and slowly I take off the suit, which I was still wearing. Then I also take off my bra and staying alone with my panties I slowly approach and slide the opening of the cabin.
Now it's in front of me in a cloud of steam, I feel the splashes that wet my legs, my belly, and I start shaking. She opens her eyes that she was keeping closed, and smiling at me she says, "come on, I've been waiting for you".
So I go in and close the slide, while the hot water gets me wet. I feel her hand resting on my side, so I move closer until I feel her skin against mine. We hug gently for a few moments, then she closes the water, and takes the bubble bath bottle. I feel the fresh soap that her hands start to spread on my skin, first on my back, then on my belly and then on my breasts. She pulls off my panties. Now the foam has started to form, thinner, and then thicker, creamier. We kiss each other on the mouth. I feel her tongue against mine, I get inside her I want to taste her. Then a hand rests on my vagina, and begins to rub slowly, forming a voluptuous foam, I feel the fingers trying to get inside, caressing those lips from which I know that all my pleasure should be born. The water starts gushing again, washes away all the soap, leaves a perfume of good sex of passion. She bends and kneels down and then puts her mouth on those lips, I can feel her tongue entering me gently and then runs on that little cricket, which I have touched many times, and each time gave me strange shivers of pleasure. But now she insists, she squeezes it slowly between my teeth, while with her tongue she stimulates it, rubs it, stronger and stronger and stronger. A warmth that I had never felt before spread through the lower abdomen followed by two or three uncontrolled spasms. I have to scream. Then my legs get soft and I slide down with her holding me slowly, and always continuing to caress me with one hand she kisses me on the mouth. It's the first orgasm of my life.
I wake up with the sun high, and the noise of a tractor fills the silence of the big yard.
I look at the time and I have a stroke. Ten o'clock in the morning. Then I realize that an arm is wrapped around my neck, and as I turn around I see her at my side under the blanket still sleeping peacefully and relaxed.
I realize that I am completely naked, and only then do I remember everything that happened, how we ended up in my bed, and the other two orgasms she made me feel, always kissing me, taking care of me. I remember that I never gave her the pleasure, and now I want to find out what it feels like, kissing a woman, savouring her moods.
I stick my head under the blanket and head between her thighs. The smell of her sex is pungent, she must have gotten wet during the night, and it drives me crazy. I sink my mouth and tongue, while I grab her breasts with my hands. I feel that she has woken up, she moves her pelvis, starts to accompany my lick. I lick and kiss her, bite her lips and bite the trigger for I don't know how long. She moans, and then she pants, while a liquid drips from her slit that tastes good, a bit sour, like fermented yoghurt. Suddenly she throws out a scream, first strangled and then more acute, while a lukewarm bow fills my mouth and I hear her jerk, I see the muscles of her abdomen contracting, and I watch her as she enjoys.
Emma moved in with me.
After her grandfather's death in a short and painful time, she took over the study, and our relationship is no longer a secret to anyone.
We let a few months go by, but then when we realized that everyone had understood by now, there was no point in trying to hide us anymore.
Already after that first morning I had noticed the mischievous looks of the workers, surely suspicious of the time, and the tender kiss they saw us exchange when we said goodbye.
And then every day at lunch and then at dinner, and then increasingly often at bedtime.
I know we're a bit on everyone's lips, but that doesn't matter, they'll have to get used to it, after all we don't do anything wrong.
