Grandma’s Farm by JSipes7798
Grandma teaches her Grandson the difference between making Love and Fucking. , My Grandma, Hazel La Forge was a farm girl who grew up in New Madrid County, a small farming community in the southeast Missouri bootheel. The family farm was just over 2000 acres of prime fertile land bordering the banks of the Mississippi River. The property was flat and easy to plow. Each harvest was better than the previous. Great Grandpa La Forge had been offered over $1500 per acre back in the 1800s, but he wouldn’t sell one acre. It had been in the La Forge family since before Missouri became a State. In fact, Great-Great Grandpa La Forge had been a Captain with the survey party of Col. George Morgan, when he established New Madrid, Missouri in 1789. He was allowed to lay claim to the farmland as payment for his service to Col. Morgan’s expedition. The farm has been passed down through the family generation after generation. When a La Forge child married, that child and their spouse received two acres of land to build a home. They would continue to live on the property and share in the profits of the farm. At present, 34 families descending from Great-Great Grandpa La Forge live on the land and work on the farm.
Grandma Hazel had four siblings; all boys. She was the third child and the only female of the five children. Thomas was the oldest child followed by, George, then Grandma Hazel, later Earl and Walter, the youngest boy. Her brothers were very protective of her and chased off any boyfriend that didn’t meet the high standards they had set for her.
Grandma Hazel worked the farm right alongside her brothers and was considered by most as being a tough, but beautiful girl. She could toss a bale of hay just as well as any of her brothers. Her body grew strong and firm. At age seventeen she was the best liked and probably the best-looking girl in the high school. She was average height and weight. She was friendly, creative and energetic, but could also be very egotistical and a bit mean.
When she was in high school, she had sandy blond hair, a fair complexion, sparkling blue eyes, long slender legs, a firm round ass and tits that any Playboy Bunny would die for. She always wore her hair in a ponytail to keep it out of the way when she worked around farm machinery. Any other time her hair flowed down over her shoulders. Physically, Grandma Hazel is still in pretty good shape. Her tits are more substantial and probably sag because of her age. She is still an attractive woman, but now she has bronze weathered skin with some wrinkles from working in the sun, gray hair due to old age and tired blue eyes.
Shortly after Hazel’s 18th birthday, she began to date a local boy by the name of Andrew Winston. Hazel’s brothers gave him a tough time at first, but after they had dated for several months, her brother George started talking up a marriage between Hazel and Andrew Winston. Everyone thought George had lost his mind. Hazel and Andrew hadn’t known each other long enough to contemplate marriage. However, George was insistent that they are allowed to marry and also be given a section of land to build a home. Andrew was a timid man and didn’t express himself one way or the other about the proposed marriage. He just kind of went along with the flow. He was probably afraid of Grandma’s brothers.
Within a month Andrew and Hazel were married, and within the following eight months she delivered a healthy baby boy. Andrew bragged about his new son, but it was rumored that Hazel’s brother George was probably the child’s true father. Hazel and Andrew went on to have three more children; one girl and two more boys. My Dad was one of those boys.
My name is Johnny, and I spend most of my summers working on my Grandma’s farm. I call it my Grandma’s farm because she is strong-willed and everyone else in the family yields to her leadership. She runs everything, and no one challenges her authority. The farm turns a huge profit every year under Grandma’s leadership and the whole family delights in getting their shares. The work is, but it does wonders for my strength and weight. I have learned to handle a bale of hay just as well as any of the other farmhands.
My favorite farmhand to work with is Chester Johnson. He is a twenty-eight-year-old black man who is working summers to pay his graduate school tuition. He is working towards a Masters of Agricultural Economics. He has an undergraduate degree in business studies. He is bright and considerate, but can also be very sneaky and a bit devious.
He is an old time Christian who defines himself as sexually straight. Physically, Bob is in pretty good shape. He is tall with dark skin, black hair and dark brown eyes. Chester grew up in a middle-class black neighborhood. He was raised by his mother; his father was sent to prison when he was young and never returned. Chester is one of the hardest workers I have ever known. He has taught me many things about running a farm for profit.
Our mornings always start around five o’clock. Chester arrives at five, and Grandma serves a large country breakfast complete with eggs, bacon or sausage, biscuits or toast, and milk gravy or grits. Grandma believes everyone who works a farm should start their workday with a hearty breakfast. What one of her favorites says is; “Eat breakfast like a King, lunch like a Prince and supper like a Pauper.”
We usually begin our work day cleaning the barn and pitching hay. We also have to do general handiwork like making sure all fences are intact, tend to livestock, and some plowing during planting season. I usually start in the barn while Chester helps Grandma with sorting invoices and paying bills. His college degree in business studies is why Grandma lets him help her with the paperwork.
One morning I forgot my work gloves, so I had to return to the house. I was shocked at what I found. Grandma always wears her bathrobe when she cooks breakfast. I always assumed she did that because it was comfortable. When I step through the back door into the kitchen, I observe Grandma laying on the breakfast table with her bathrobe open and no clothes under her robe.
Chester is standing between her legs. His pants are around his ankles, and his big black cock is slowly moving in and out of Grandma’s pussy. They didn’t hear me return to the house, so I stood frozen in place as I watch. She seems almost spellbound by his big black cock. Her legs are around his waist, and her heels are hooked around the back of his thighs pulling his cock back in every time he eases it out to the edge of her pussy. His cock looks like it is at least a foot long and she is absorbing it all in her pussy. Her pert breasts are on display, her nipples hard, her fingers running over her own body so sensually. I get hard just watching. I have the urge to jack-off, but I am afraid they will catch me. It looks like the feelings she is drawing through his hardness are just incredible. He is looking down at her lean thighs parted for him, at her graying pubic hair, and at her pussy that is instinctively squeezing and then releasing on his hard shaft.