It was August. The bees were in the garden. The honeybees and I were indolent around the hollyhocks. We shared the direct sunlight in our God-given attire and we shared a buzz. Perhaps both of us were having too much nectar that afternoon. Theirs was pollen and mine was a cold sweet Riesling.

The ‘hocks reminded me of my home in Europe where I learned to love the bees, the sun, my nudity, and colorful flowers. If ever there could be a Mediterranean experience in Minneapolis, it would be a hot August in the garden, naked, with hollyhocks and honeybees. Maybe a few dragonflies, too.

This is how things were when my grandson-by-marriage Antonio was stung by a honey bee. He was masturbating by the garden gate with me fully in his sights. He was seventeen and he was devastated when a bee stung him while his pants were around his ankles,and his cock was throbbing in his hand, and his Grandma Giulia was lying naked among the hollyhocks. He tripped when his feet became hopelessly entangled among the coils of a garden hose. He fell with his cock in hand and with a bee stuck to the inside of his thigh.Bee venom was pumping into his thigh muscle at the same time as his prick was spurting his sperma onto the garden gate.

I relish my nudist time within the bricked garden walls that secret me from prying eyes. The walls permit me to leave my clothing and cares hanging on a hook near the gate; the same gate where Antonio was pleasuring himself at the sight of my nudity. The careful placement of shade hangars and greenery obscured the tall buildings that surround the estate and yet they still allow full sun to descend into the garden for things that need it: me, the honeybees, and the hollyhocks. The dragonflies don’t seem to have a preference.

It was my custom to honor my late husband by stretching out nude in the sun with a cold glass of sweet white wine. William and I shared an interest in sweet wine and nudism and often spent hours reclining naked in garden loungers, having sex, and watching bees lazily collect pollen among the hollyhocks.

Beelines are never straight, you know. Bees fly in loops and partial circles and often re-trace their visits to the same bloom. I am like that. I fly lazily around relationships. I’ve sampled more than one bloom in a flight and yet I find myself returning often to the same bloom again and again until the pollen is depleted.

It was one of those times when William found me on the Isle of Capri.

I had recently exhausted the pollen from the bloom of a man who owned several aliscafi. His hydrofoils were newly purchased but his routes from Naples to Capri were always the same. His aliscafi always made beelines, as you Americans say, between the two cities. He, and his hydrofoil business, was quite boring.

I was seeking new blooms with more pollen when William and I met in Anacapri. Six months later we married and he brought me to the United States to his estate.

I was William’s second wife and a decade his junior. We had ten years together before he passed. Although he had been successful in business, he was a weak-willed man and I could dominate him whenever I chose. There was little need to assert myself though. He devoted himself to my happiness and so did I. It was a good match.

His family adjusted to me as to any interloper. I wasn’t hated but I wasn’t accepted as la nonna, grandma, by anyone except the youngest grandchild Tony. I called him Antonio. He loved it when I did.

When William passed, I inherited the house and gardens and one-quarter of the financial accounts while the remaining three-fourths of the financials and assets were divided equally between the siblings. His son, Edward, had two children. Antonio was the elder and Amy, the younger. William’s daughter Caroline had no children and no husband. At the age of forty, when lesbian marriages were in vogue, she took a woman as a partner. She appears to be happy with her choice. Both attended William’s funeral and shocked the more distant relatives with their fondness towards each other.

All of this returns us to Antonio masturbating at the garden gate, falling to the ground with a bee stuck in his thigh, and his sperma drying on the white paint of the garden gate.

I knew he was there, of course. He came to masturbate whenever he could. He didn’t think I knew about his visits but I did. I was fifty and I was flattered to be an object of desire for a seventeen-year-old boy. I permitted it to go on. Shame on me, but then, truthfully, who really cares about a young man and his fantasies?

The spaces between the gate boards never gave me a view of Antonio’s cazzo, but the flash of thighs and flesh and hands left little doubt that he pleasured himself while watching me in the nude.

I teased him; you know I did. Wouldn’t you do the same? If not, you might be American.

If William had been alive, he would have encouraged me to do more. William masturbated often even though I was available to do it for him. He said personal masturbation was necessary for his peace of mind. He would say the same about Antonio, I imagine, and he would likely encourage me to feed Antonio’s appetite.

For Antonio’s pleasure, I would stretch out my legs or open them up or put one knee up and the other out flat. I was careful not to give him the idea I was aware of his presence. I found it pleasant to see if my movements caused him to quicken his pace. When the flashes of his thighs and his blurring hands suddenly stopped, I knew he had completed his biological relief.

This is what boys do at this age when they do not have a girlfriend to do this for them. All boys. Not just Italian boys. German men and German boys were the same as Italians except for the size of their dicks. German dicks were, in general, a half-inch smaller in length than an Italian. Having had both, I didn’t see the size of either as an issue but other women did. William was German and he was an exception. He was seven inches and it was nice to have him at a size I could fully accommodate.

When I opened the garden gate and saw Antonio splayed out with his dick in hand, I could see that he had his grandfather’s dick. It was so vivid. The resemblance was stunning. Antonio looked like his grandfather in face and form and genitalia. I missed William so much at that moment.

There was another characteristic of Antonio that reminded me of his grandfather. He was weak-willed. I took advantage of that now.

“Don’t move. Don’t you move until I have a look at you.”

I could see the bee was still embedded in Antonio’s thigh. It was not dead. It was remarkable that Antonio had not slapped at it but given his orgasm at the time maybe not so unusual. I had seen this before with William.

“Antonio, this is a good day for you. Your grandfather would have treasured this moment to teach you about bees and sex. This is a good day for you to learn what your Grandma Grace originally taught your Grandpa. He, of course, passed the knowledge along to me and now I will teach you what I learned.

“You must do everything I tell you. It is important. Your grandfather did this once a week and he loved the experience. Your Grandma did it, too. You loved your Grandma and Grandpa, yes? Good. And you know that if it came from them that it is good for you, yes? Ok, good. Let’s begin with what is happening. The bee is alive and it is pumping its bee venom into your leg. Your dick is still hard because the bee venom is in your blood and it’s causing your body to react to it. It is a little painful at first but the pain diminishes and leaves you simply stiff. Because you came before the bee sting had a chance to produce its effect, you will be erect for a while longer and can experience something special.

“Stroke yourself now while your dick is still hard. Go on, do it.”

He was seventeen and he was nervous. I saw reluctance in his eyes; not quite defiance as an average boy his age might show me but reluctance. It was evident that Antonio was weak-willed and yet, I did not want his first bee orgasm to be under duress.

“You don’t want to touch yourself in front of me, is that it?”

Antonio nodded.

“Then let go of your dick and let me do it.”

He froze. I knew he would.

He was caught between not wanting to masturbate in front of me and not wanting me to do it for him. It was his age and his cooked pasta spine. He had no backbone. Weak.

I had backbone and I was not weak. I grabbed his wrist with one hand and his dick with the other and I shouted “Let the fuck go, now!”

I startled him long enough to unwrap his fingers and put mine where his were. I immediately pumped his hardened dick. It was just like William’s. My hand could not tell a difference in size or girth but the hardness of Antonio’s dick was more than I had ever felt with William. Young dick is best, I thought and kept pumping.

Antonio started to say something and I clapped my free hand over his mouth to shut him up. I kept pumping his dick.

“Don’t say a word or do anything or I’ll slap your face. If you must do something then touch my breasts. One hand or both, doesn’t matter. Stay still and let me do what you’ve wanted me to do since you started masturbating at the gate three months ago. I used to do this for your grandfather but he was a man about it. Don’t be a boy. Be a man like your grandfather, lay still, be quiet, and feel the pleasure I am giving your dick. The bee sting is intensifying the pleasure for you. Your grandmother did this for your grandfather and, after he taught me, I did it for him, too. It is your turn to experience it. Your cock is like your grandpa’s. Did you know? Except it is harder because you are younger. When you put your dick into a woman, you will have to be careful not to hurt her. You haven’t done that yet, have you? I didn’t think so. Any girl your age who has experienced your dick will never leave it alone after the first time. Now, how is that feeling?”

Antonio could only nod. I expected this might overwhelm the young man’s senses and it was.

I kept pumping his dick. I pulled the skin of it up and down as rapidly as I could without hurting him. I couldn’t help but think that I was stroking a young William and the thought was intoxicating. This was a great cock and it appeared to be in the family DNA. How lucky for any woman who married into this side of the family.

“Are your legs stiffening now?”

Antonio nodded again.

“Do you feel as if you are about to cum?”

Another nod.

“Then put your hands down by your sides. Close your eyes and think about seeing me naked in the recliner. Tighten every muscle in your body and think about your sperma shooting out your dick. Think about me making your sperma shoot out and then tighten your body very tight. I am going to take my hand off your mouth now. Promise me you won’t make any noises when I do. Okay? Good. That’s real good. Tighten your thighs and stomach just a little bit more.“

His cock thickened in my hands. The moment was about to occur. I saw the bee had freed itself and flown away. I took this as a good sign and I forcefully slapped the swollen area of the sting three times. On the first slap, Antonio’s body went rigid like rigor mortis had set in. Toes, legs, thighs, cock, stomach, torso, arms, and neck went extraordinarily stiff. His testicles pulled up tight, too. It was the same kind of paroxysm that his grandfather underwent when I did this to him. On the second slap, his dick released a load of sperma high into the air. I slapped a third time. Three times his cock pulsed in my hand and he shot his seed towards the sky. Then his cock pulsed weakly and leaked fluid out of its opening.

I slapped the bee sting a fourth time and his cock and his body went rigid again and spurted whatever remained of his seed into the air. Sperma falls where it must and much of it fell on him but a few drops fell on my arms and shoulders. It was warmer than the sun on my skin. I tasted him. He tasted young.

Antonio shuddered heavily to relieve the tension in his body. He couldn’t speak as he concentrated on his shuddering. After several attempts, he was finally able to say Fuck.

When he had himself under control, I began to speak quietly.

“This is what your grandparents did before I came along and it is what your grandfather and I did when he was here. Your father, your mother, and your aunt never knew the purpose of the garden, the hollyhocks, or the bees. It is not something that one can speak about over a kitchen table or a glass of wine. You cannot speak about it either.

“If you had not been stung today, you would not have known. Fate sometimes sends us in directions we never considered. Today was a day that Fate changed for us. It is uncommon for a boy your age to learn about the ways of men and women from a woman my age but this is where we find ourselves. Tomorrow you will come again and this time you will come through the gate and sit with me. We will both have a glass of cold sweet white wine and sit in the garden. I will teach you about your grandfather and how to be a great man. I will also teach you about bees and sex. Let’s begin by untangling you from this garden hose and then sitting inside the garden.”

We went inside the garden and sat naked in the sun with the hollyhocks and honey bees. He is weak-willed as I said earlier and I was able to use him for my pleasure for the remainder of the summer.

I showed him how to capture bees in jars and place them in the wine cooler for twenty minutes. This caused the bees to slow and made it easier to hold them with tweezers. I taught him the best locations to place the bees for the best orgasm stings in men and in women. He learned how to let them sting without hurting them.

Of course, I had to show him everything on me before he would try anything. This was to be expected; like attracting both dragonflies and bees with a dab of sweet white wine to my labia or to my nipples. It is erotic to have bees and dragonflies walk around the most sensitive parts of one’s sex and tasting it. Of course, this isn’t for the faint of heart. It is for the strong-willed.

Antonio didn’t hesitate to dip his tip in sweet white wine and let dragonflies light on the end for a sip. He was reluctant to let the bees do the same; I used my will to overcome his reluctance but once he learned the pleasures, we often had contests to see who could attract the most bees and dragonflies. He was forever taking photos of dragonflies on his tip. It was almost a compulsion.

We both played with his cazzo and testicolo for hours at a time. I told him many times he had his grandfather’s cock and balls and that he should be proud. It was the beginning of the third week before I took him inside me.

If I didn’t teach him at seventeen, who would?

I taught him how to penetrate a woman and how to walk sexy in the nude like an Italian man. I taught him how to orgasm quietly so he could take his pleasure in public spaces. I taught him how to tease a woman with his touch so that he would be sought as a good lover.

He would often lay next to me on the recliner and we would watch the bees, sip wine, and have sex. We shared ourselves without shame. Young and old. Mature and inexperienced. I often took nectar from his dick. It tasted a little less sweet (and more salty) than the Riesling but he was a close second. He tasted me often, too. We shared ourselves with each other and frequently used honeybees to bring us to spectacular orgasms.

All things come to an end, summer was one of them. Antonio’s visits were another. In spring this year, he called and asked if he could come to the garden with a friend. I knew I had lost my power over him but I wasn’t upset. I was a year older. He was two generations younger and he was no longer weak-willed. He was a man that his grandfather could be proud of.

He asked if the hollyhocks were in bloom and if the honeybees were out. I told him not until late July or August. He said he and his friend would see me in August and hung up.

August is coming. I anticipate he will want me to teach his girlfriend about bees. I will have to confirm she is not allergic to them.