Apiarist Lesbian Tractor Witch Makes Me Cum Hard - (Classic Tingler Revisited)

some buds are impressed by how fast chuck can write a tingler and i will admit even i am sometimes shocked (to be fair to the struggling writers out there chuck has help of being able to slip between timelines this is power not all have so ability to enter reality with much slower time helps write fast just sayin). SOMETIMES however chuck finds out might have gone too far ahead in a timeline and written about something that hasent happened yet, which i suppose is bound to occur when you write hundreds of dang stories.

anyway this morning learned about this important current event in UNITED KINGDOM OF BUDS where conservative devil politician neil parish was caught looking at pounds in parliament (not money pounds, pounds pounds PLEASE FOLLOW ALONG). later he said 'i was not looking at pounds just pictures of tractors and of course chuck thinks 'well come on those are not mutually exclusive things'

fortunately chuck already has title name of APIARIST LESBIAN TRACTOR WITCH MAKES ME CUM HARD so i have already sent it to neil to help 

larger issue here though is fact that conservative politicians always seem to be telling others to NOT DO the things they DO all the time. do not look at pounds do not have this pound or that pound and on and on, and it seems like long standing tradition of them actually trotting this way themselves.

so i will say i do not think neil is a devil for looking at pounds in parliament, i think he is a devil for telling others not to

Michelle loves farmer’s markets, and is excited to learn about a mysterious night gathering that takes place before every full moon in the swamp outside of town. It’s difficult to find, but once Michelle arrives she quickly discovers this isn’t your typical farmer’s market, it’s a market for witches.

When Michelle stumbles upon the honey booth of a living tractor apiarist, she’s immediately smitten by the beautiful witch named Willa. Now Willa is inviting Michelle to try some honey at her hut in the woods, but is this really all just some kind of hedonistic sexual ritual?

The answer is even stranger than Michelle expected, culminating in an erotic lesbian encounter that will bend the very fabric of The Tingleverse itself.

This erotic tale is 4,100 words of sizzling human on lesbian apiarist action and hardcore sentient tractor witch love.

(Originally released August 28, 2020)

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APIARIST LESBIAN TRACTOR WITCH MAKES ME CUM HARD

By Chuck Tingle

I’m a sucker for farmer’s markets. I love the hustle and bustle of people setting up their stalls and selling goods they’ve painstakingly brought into reality. The prices might climb slightly higher than they would in the grocery store, but that’s made up for tenfold when you consider just how glorious it is to buy fresh produce from the person who actually grew it.

This interest of mine has gradually turned into a full blown obsession, looking up every farmer’s market in the area and driving for miles to check them out.

However, never before have I found myself headed to an event like this. Up until recently, each of the farmer’s markets I attended took place in the early morning or afternoon, but this event is set well after the sun goes down.

“I’m so excited,” I tell my friend, Cory, who lounges in the passenger seat next to me.

Cory nods. “Me too,” he replies, staring out the window as he struggles to navigate.

Typically, it’s easy to find these events, signs posted everywhere and a number of different folks coming and going. Tonight’s event, however, dubbed the Gnarled Claw Night Market, is much more difficult to pin down. It’s not just the fact that lighting is scarce out here, it’s also the location itself.

I gaze out through the windshield before me, gazing up to see if I can spot any glow over the nearby tree line. We’re been driving for quite a while now, circling back and forth over a variety of dirt roads that wind their way through the local swamp. I turn the radio down a bit, as though this relative silence will somehow help me gather my direction sense, and I’m swiftly greeted by the overwhelming call of chirping crickets and croaking frogs.

“Either way, it’s actually pretty nice out here,” I finally reply.

“Creepy, but nice,” Cory admits.

He’s right. Along with a peaceful break from the big city, there’s something about this deep forest and marshland that keeps my senses ever so slightly on edge. As my headlights sweep through the trees, I’m constantly convinced that I’ve caught a glimpse of something peeking out through the darkness.

“Where’d you hear about this farmer’s market anyway?” I ask my friend, struggling to make sense of it all. “Are you sure somebody wasn’t just messing with you?”

Cory tenses up a bit, but says nothing.

I glance over at him, my concern growing.

“Cory,” I repeat, letting him know that I mean business. “Where did you hear about this farmer’s market?”

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” he finally replies.

I raise an eyebrow, confused by this unexpected response. “Why not?” I prod.

My friend hesitates for a beat and then finally comes out with it, the pent up words launching from his mouth in a chaotic fury. “It was a one eyed raven from the future, okay? She told me there was a great farmers market out in the swamp on the night before the next full moon.”

“Wait, what?” I blurt, suddenly deeply concerned that my friend is being serious. “A talking one eyed bird? Do you realize how crazy this sounds?”

“It’s not that crazy,” Cory offers in return. “It was in a dream. The bird said that you and Willa sent her through a ritual that hasn’t happened yet, it’s also been happening forever. Like a loop!”

“What the fuck are you walking about? Who the fuck is Willa?” I cry out again, this time even more concerned. “You heard about this farmer’s market in a dream?”

I slam on the breaks, stopping my car right then and there in the middle of this empty dirt road, no sign of any other humans for miles and miles. Other folks might be upset with their friend in a situation like this, and I wouldn’t blame them. However, there’s something about this predicament that tickles a different part of my psyche, and soon enough I find myself unable to stop the laughter that bubbles up from deep inside me, spilling out of my mouth in a bouncing cascade.

Soon enough, Cory is laughing as well, realizing just how silly this all is.

“I’m sorry, Michelle. It seemed like a good idea when we left your place but… now I don’t know what we’re doing,” he offers through a fit of giggles.

We get the laughter out of our system and then finally, once the emotion has settled, I put the car into drive and flip it around. We’re headed home.

I only get about twenty feet before I notice the sign, however, my headlights sweeping across a small and unexpected wooden arrow that has been attached to a post and pounded into the wet boggy ground.

“Gnarled Claw Night Market,” I read aloud, exchanging glances with my friend. “Oh my god. We’re here.”

I carefully pull off where the sign instructs, slowly cruising along on an even more unkept dirt road that sends us deeper into the belly of the swamp. There’s no room to turn around here even if we wanted to.

It’s not long, however, before lights begin to shine through the trees ahead. The narrow dirt lane quickly expands into a parking lot, and beyond that is a small assortment of stalls and vendors. The whole scene is lit by several rows of flickering torches that surround the area, accompanied by a joyful troupe of dancing fireflies.

Cory and I climb out of my car and take it all in, the night air feeling fresh and pleasant against our skin. I immediately notice this parking lot isn’t hosting the typical farmer’s market crowd. For one thing, there’s only a small handful of other vehicles, and the ones that I do see look as though they were built a hundred years ago. I’m surprised some of these cars aren’t being pulled by horses.

Cory, however, seems unphased, pulling me back toward the mission at hand. “So what are we getting tonight?” he questions. “Fruits? Veggies?”

“Actually, I’m looking for honey,” I reply. “I want something local.”

“I heard there was a good apiarist here,” Cory continues.

“Where’d you hear that?” I question with a laugh. “The one eyed crow from both the future and the past?”

“Nah, I read about that part online,” my friend offers.

The two of us stroll over to the main drag of shops and stalls. It quickly becomes even clearer that this event is unlike any other farmer’s market I’ve been to, as these businesses are not offering the typical fresh produce.

The first booth I approach features a mysterious figure in a dark robe, their face obscured but their long scaly hands telling me everything I need to know.

“What are you looking for, miss?” the figure hisses from below the shadow of their cloak.

I gaze down at the strange plants laid out on the table between us, trying my best to determine what any of them could be. “I’m not sure,” I reply. “What is this stuff?”

“Wormwood, pigstooth, poison pine, throat scratcher,” the figure begins to list, pointing at the various items.

“Uhhh… I’ll have to come back,” I reply, stepping away.

Cory leans in close, speaking under his breath. “That was weird, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. I’ve never heard of anyof those veggies or herbs,” I admit.

“They sounded like spell components or something,” he continues.

Suddenly, I freeze. I look around at my surroundings, taking them all in with a fresh set of eyes as I realize the terrifying truth.

“Oh my god,” I blurt. “This is a witch market!”

Cory thinks I’m joking at first, but as his gaze continues across the variety of stalls and the strange spell components for sale, his smile quickly fades.

“Is it safe?” he questions.

“I don’t know,” I admit, “but we shouldn’t take any chances. Let’s get out of here.”

I turn to leave but suddenly stop in my tracks, my eyes coming to rest on a large sign that hangs above a nearby booth. They’re selling honey.

“Wait,” I blurt. “Let’s just check this one out.”

Cory is cautious, but he’s willing to come along on the journey as the two of us make our way over to this stall covered in stacked jars of beautiful golden honey. There, sitting behind the counter, is an absolutely gorgeous sentient tractor.

“Hey there,” I offer, trying my best to sound natural and failing miserably.

While I’d previously been nervous due to the frightening nature of this situation, I find myself stricken by another kind of tension. Instead of fear, I get a distinct sense of arousal. This living tractor witch is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.

“Can I interest you in a taste?” the tractor questions.

I just stare at her blankly, trying my best not to start mumbling like a manic. Moments later, Cory elbows me in the ribs, pulling me back to reality. “Oh, sorry,” I stammer, realizing now that the sentient farming equipment is holding out a stick of honey for me to sample.

I take the stick in my hands and put it in my mouth, dragging it slowly against my teeth and pulling off all of the sweet nectar. I swallow gladly, savoring the incredible flavor.

“That’s amazing,” I gush.

“Thank you,” the tractor replies. “I’m the apiarist.”

As if I wasn’t already attracted to the sexy living object, she goes and adds this to the mix.

“Would you like to come back to my place and see my bees?” the tractor questions.

My eyes go wide as she says this, but before I have a chance to answer, Cory pulls me away.

“We’ll be right back,” my friend offers.

Once we’ve put enough space between us and the booth, Cory dives into it. “You’re not seriously going with that literal witch, are you?” he questions. “Did you see the way she was making eyes at you? What if she wants you for some kind of sex ritual?”

“I hope she wants me for a sex ritual,” I counter.

Cory faulters a bit, not expecting this answer. “Wait… oh.”

We stand awkwardly for a moment, neither of us quite sure what to say. Finally, my friend breaks the silence. “You want me to take your car and get a motel nearby or something?” he questions, the prefect wingman.

“Really?” I blurt. “You’d do that?”

Cory nods. “I kinda like it out here, I don’t mind hanging around a bit before heading back to the city. I’ll keep my phone nearby, just call me if you need anything.”

I thank him profusely and give him a powerful hug before handing over my car keys and saying goodbye. Moments later, I’m strolling back toward the sentient tractor’s honey booth.

“Let’s go see these bees!” I announce cheerfully.

I quickly learn the tractor’s name is Willa, a title that sounds incredibly familiar but I can’t quite seem to place. Although she doesn’t come right out and say it, the sentient vehicle also makes it clear that she’s a real life witch though a variety of subtle hints.

Soon enough, the two of us are making our way even deeper into the swamp, me sitting up high in her cab as I gaze out across the strange, otherworldly landscape. The tractor herself pushes onward over the muddy ground with no problem at all, chatting it up until we eventually arrive at a small clearing.

There before us is a small hut, a single flickering light shining out through the window and casting the scene in an ominous glow.

It’s very spooky, which only makes my arousal grow. I can’t help but imagine what it will be like to be the center of a strange sexual ritual, my body a carnal vessel of communication to some elder gods that exist far beyond the cosmos. I’m almost trembling too hard to climb down out of the tractor’s cab.

“So this is your place?” I ask Willa.

The living farm equipment nods. “Sure is.”

She continues onward toward the hut, the two of us walking side by side now. As we approach the building, however, we begin to turn slightly, walking around to the back of the structure.

In my mind’s eye, I’d seen myself reaching orgasm several times while sprawled out on top of a mystic symbol that’s drawn in chalk on the floorboards, but… outside works too.

“Just over here,” the tractor continues.

We round the corner and I stop abruptly, suddenly flooded with disappointment.

“These are my hives,” Willa informs me proudly, showing off four large rectangular stacks. The flying insects buzz happily around them through the air, making their sweet, sweet honey.

“Oh,” is all that I can think to say, realizing now that my dreams of a sex ritual were completely off base. This living tractor was actually just showing me her bees.

Willa immediately picks up on my emotions, noticing that something’s wrong. “What’s up?” she questions.

I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head from side to side. “Nothing,” I reply. “It’s stupid.”

“You can tell me,” she continues with great care.

I take a deep breath and let it out. “It’s so embarrassing,” I begin, “but if you have to know… I thought you were a witch.”

“Oh?” the tractor replies curiously, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I confirm. “I thought maybe you wanted to have some kind of freaky sex ritual together, but now I realize you really just wanted to show me your bees.”

Willa considers my words, thinking hard about how to proceed. The moment floods me with relief, just because she’s not instantly treating me like an absolute nut.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on a sex ritual tonight,” the sentient tractor offers, “but I am a witch.”

“Really?” I reply, shocked.

Willa nods. “Also, it’s not too hard to throw a ritual together. Let me show you.”

Without another word, the tractor strolls slowly past me, taking her time as she rolls up the front steps of her hut and opens the door. She looks back over her shoulder at me before stepping inside.

Immediately, I spring into action. I rush up the steps behind her and burst into the room to see that a large mystic symbol has been drawn on the floor in a circular diagram.

“Yes!” I cry out excitedly. “Sex ritual!”

Suddenly, the tractor emerges from the shadows, kissing me deeply on the mouth as the two of us intertwine in a breathless fit of passion. We begin to explore the topography of one another’s bodies, my fingers tickling across every glorious angle of her mechanical form while she strips away my clothing and tosses it to the side.

Soon enough, I find myself standing completely nude before her, my body exposed to the night air and to the light of the nearly full moon as it streams through her window. The tractor’s interest slowly begins to creep down across my form, the vehicle caressing my face and shoulders at first, then lowering onto my breasts for a good while. She takes her time here, a soft chant from some ancient language drifting out from between her lips as she reaches my hips.

Willa hovers her attention for a moment, teasing me as she traces the border of my waist, yet refusing to take things any farther.

“Please,” I gush, whispering the single word into her ear. “I need your touch.”

The sentient tractor smiles, then finally has mercy on me. She drops her hand down and runs a single finger across my clit, causing a startled gasp to escape my throat and my head to tilt back wildly. The second this happens, the room erupts with orange light as thousands of candles stacked in every nook and cranny illuminate our surroundings.

“Oh my god,” I gush. “Fuck yes.”

The living piece of farm equipment begins to slowly rub her fingers across my pussy, then gradually slips them within me. She works me like this until she finds a rhythm I like, then sticks to that one. Soon enough, I’m pumping my hips hard against her, rocking in time with the movement of her hand.

I close my eyes tight, allowing the otherworldly power of this moment to fulfill me in a way that I can’t quite understand.

When I open my eyes again, I notice that the living tractor has lowered herself down, gazing up at me with aching, lustful eyes as she positions her face directly before my waiting pussy.

“Yes,” I beg. “Do it.”

Without having to be told twice, Willa immediately dives in. She replaces the movement of her fingers with the gentle pulse of her tongue across my clit, eating me out with an incredible understanding of the human body. She’s working me in just the right way, and it’s not long before I can feel the first hints of an impending orgasm bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me.

“Just like that, just like that,” I begin to repeat over and over again, the words falling out of my mouth in a blissful mantra while I’m consumed by the potent ache of impending climax. As I repeat the words they grow louder and louder, eventually transforming into a full on shriek that fills the hut around us. “Just like that! Just like that!”

I’m quaking hard now, completely lost in the moment as I struggle to stay upright. I nearly buckle at the knees, but in a flash of quick thinking I reach out and place my hands on the vehicle’s hood for balance. All the while, Willa continues to work me with her tongue, falling into perfect sync with the needs of my trembling body.

As if the sensations flooding through me weren’t already enough, the sentient tractor escalates this moment even more with the sudden return of her hand. My supernatural lover slips her fingers within me, still keeping the pace with her tongue but providing an unexpected polyrhythm to the mix. Now these two distinct sources of pleasure are working together, creating something that is even more potent than the sum of their parts.

The next thing I know, I’m cumming hard, clutching tight against Willa’s large mechanical body while she carries me over the finish line with lustful enthusiasm. My eyes roll back into my head as a long, satisfied moan comes tumbling out from my throat, a guttural howl that fits in perfectly against the backdrop of a nearby full moon. The orgasm is powerful, mightier than anything I’ve ever experienced and equally long. It feels as though I’ve left my body, and for a moment I disconnect from this plane of existence completely.

Eventually, however, I return. I notice now that the strange symbol drawn on the floor below us is pulsing with magical energy, the ritual coming to fruition through our carnal exchange.

“Now you,” I snarl playfully. “Let me see how sweet this honey really is.”

I kiss Willa deeply for a moment, then begin to make my way around the side of her vehicular body. I drag my fingers along the hard, angular surface of her frame, taking my time as I admire her sturdy construction and beautiful blue paintjob.

Eventually, I arrive at the back of the tractor, where I find her beautiful pussy waiting for me. I position myself accordingly, rubbing her with my fingers for a moment as the vehicle lets out a peaceful sigh.

“Fuck yes,” the apiarist groans. “That’s it.”

I lean even closer, tickling her with the tip of my tongue and reaching down between my own legs to start round two.

I lap away at Willa with the same energy and enthusiasm that she gave me, listening to her body as she pushes back against mine. I do my best to follow along with the signs as she presents them, reacting to her rhythm and pulse. Soon enough, the two of us are falling into the same glorious synchronization as before, our bodies heaving in unison while I feverishly eat her out from behind.

The living tractor begins to shake, her entire mechanical body rattling hard as I push her closer and closer to the edge. I’m touching myself with equal momentum, the pressure building in unison until finally it explodes within the both of us. It takes everything I’ve got to maintain the movement of my tongue, carrying Willa onward during my own breathtaking orgasm, but I do my best.

Apparently, I do a good job, because the sentient piece of farm equipment is clearly enjoying herself. Willa screams frantically, revving her engine as she lets the potent climax overwhelm her. She rumbles and roars, and her orgasm lasts just as long as mine.

The magic symbol on the floor below us erupts in a brilliant flash, flooding the room with a blinding white light. Eventually, however, it fades once again.

When the living vehicle and I finish, we collapse to the ground, panting in exhaustion. The tractor rolls over next to me, and we spend the next long while just basking in one another’s presence. I feel satisfied and at peace.

“That was wonderful,” I gush.

Willa smiles, reaching over and grabbing a jar of honey off the counter next to her. She opens it up and dips a finger in, then licks the sugary golden treat off of her digit before passing the jar over to me.

“It was,” she confirms.

I take the jar and reach in for a taste of my own, reveling in this moment of indulgence.

Suddenly, I remember the strange symbol below us and the glow that had enveloped this room.

“What exactly was this sex ritual?” I suddenly ask. “Did it work?”

“Oh, it worked,” Willa offers in return. “We’re here aren’t we?”

I just stare at her for a moment, confused. “What do you mean?”

“The ritual was an erotic creation spell,” the sentient tractor conforms. “It creates something out of nothing, and in this case it sparked a magical tome that transcends time and space. A story.”

I’m trying to follow along, but it’s a lot to take in. The living tractor can tell that I’m confused, and she continues her explanation.

“The spell is called Eroticus Shortstorious,” she explains. “It constructs a work of fiction and places the two participants within it. That’s where we exist currently. It’s a way of taking the pleasure and love of an encounter like this and allowing it to blossom like a flower through time and reality.”

“So… we’re in a short story now?” I question.

“We always were,” Willa offers. “It technically started when we did the ritual, but it also happened long before. Magic has no care for timeline restrictions.”

“I’m confused,” I admit.

The living tractor laughs. “That’s okay, it’s hard for anyone to wrap their head around,” she admits. “If we created this story at the end of the story, then what came first: the story or the ritual?”

“And?” I question.

Willa shrugs. “I don’t know,” she admits. “Maybe there is no beginning. Maybe it’s just a loop that’s always been and always will be.”

I sit and think about this for a moment. “So… I’m just a character in a book now?”

“You always have been,” Willa reminds me. “Since the ritual was performed, or since the start of this story, or both.”

The implications of this concept seem like they should emotionally destroy me, but for some reason I feel perfectly fine. In fact, I’m excited.

Of course, maybe it’s just because I’m written this way, but even that realization doesn’t give me pause. All that matters is that I’m here with Willa, and the two of us are happy together.

“I guess if I’m going to realize that my existence is a constant loop of literary adventure that stretches on forever in either direction with no beginning or end, just an infinite escalation of love and joy for us to experience together… I’m glad I’m doing it with you,” I offer.

“Me too,” the tractor replies, then sits up as a realization crosses her face. “I need to go harvest some honey,” she informs me. “Wanna come along?”

“I’d love to,” I reply, then climb up into Willa’s cab.

The two of us roll back out of her hut as the world begins to collapse around us. I’m not frightened, however, realizing immediately that this endless, white space is just the blank end of the final page. Now that Willa and I have solidified our position as fictional characters, this story will be read again.

I look forward to the next ritual, and the next, and the next, and the next.