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Brad came in to wrap up his aunt’s estate, but he never thought a summer romance with younger Georgia would turn into anything. But the country fried town and spitfire local girl get under his skin.
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Georgia’s Boiled Peanuts
VINE RIPE MATERS
Every day I would pass those hand-lettered bright yellow signs evenly marching down the side of the road and every day I turned down the dusty road to get to Aunt Birdie’s house before I got to the actual goods.
The door creaked on the rusty unused hinges and the dust danced across the sunbeams coming in through the windows. I had been there a week already going through Aunt Birdie’s estate and only had a few boxes stacked by the door. It was much harder to do than I had envisioned. She was eighty-six when she died a few months back. Being and only child I was her only surviving relative. I had stupidly put this off until it was the middle of a Georgia summer with sultry summer humidity and brutal heat.
My first marriage was short and not so sweet. I was fifty-four and had an excellent job that I could work from anywhere. That allowed for traveling, so I could work and do what needed to be done here with no one to account to.
Aunt Birdie was a collector of books, some of which were valuable and they all had to be sorted and made available for sale appropriately. Being what the locals call a stone’s throw to the Georgia Florida line in the middle of nowhere makes it tough for shipping. Forty-five minutes to a parcel service store meant I will get as many boxes prepared that I could take at one time.
I spent a few hours filling two boxes, and another for thrift. With that accomplishment, I deemed myself done for the day. I locked up and bumped back down the sandy rutted road. But instead of turning left to go back to my motel, I turned right, compelled to find out what boiled peanuts were all about.
I pulled up in front of a weathered wood open front shed with a rusty roof. Angled shelves across the front held baskets of bright red tomatoes, blush peaches, jars that sparkled with different colors of jams and jellies. Another shelf held bags of pecans and peanuts, and jars of warm golden honey. It was all very bright and artistically displayed against the grayed wood.
A radio was blaring a crackling off-channel Willie Nelson tune. Delicate feet long stained with Georgia red clay feet were propped on the lower shelf. My eyes followed the longest legs I have ever seen and on up to fingers laced over denim cut off shorts which called attention to her bare midriff. From there the green camo shirt that was tied under her well-endowed bust, which was very much at odds with her long red braids and three nose freckles. But her face was farm girl milk maid knockout and my dick was very much in approval of all.
“You just passin’ though?” Bright blue eyes looked me over as she stood up behind the shelves.
“Yes, Well no.” Damn, I thought. “I’m here for a short time to sell my aunt’s house.”
“You must be referring to our Birdie,” she said, her eyes hesitating on the obvious bulge making itself known through Florida cool cotton shorts.
“Yes. You knew her then?”
“She-it, everyone knows everyone here doncha know,” she said in her lilting southern twang.
“I noticed, yes,” I said laughing. “What I stopped for was to ask about boiled peanuts?”
I stepped to the side when a car pulled in and bought some fresh peaches and okra, along with a couple of the jars of pickles.
“You mean you never had boiled peanuts before?” she asked, incredulously, the southern twang raising a couple of squeaky octaves. “We grow up on them in the south!” Steam billowed and rolled when she opened the lid of a huge stockpot. The smell was earthy when I looked into a foam cup of what was essentially, wet peanuts. “If you like them spicy, I’ll give you some of them to try.”
They looked mushy but weren’t at all. They were fairly firm and salty. I ate a few more. They were growing on me A few more. She took the cup and handed me another. This was spicy with the earthy scent and, “I love them!” I said and she was obviously delighted.
“You either love ’em or you hate ’em. I used to drop a bag off for Birdie every week,” she said, looking sad. “I”m going to miss her. I sold her jam here.” She pointed to the jars. “Those are hers. She gave them to me about a month ago.”
“She was a character,” I said, remembering. “I used to spend summer vacations here. It was so hot it would burn my city feet, but that spring on her property. Always moving and cool.” I smiled, thinking back. “I spent time there every day, splashing around. Water was clear enough to drink. Imagine it still Şişli escort is.”
She was smiling, her eyes wet. “She-it, I guess we have been yakkin’ enough to exchange names?” I nodded, hiding my smile at her cursing. “I’m Georgia,” she said, sticking out her hand.
I laughed and said, “That’s fitting since we are a stone’s throw from Georgia!”
“My mama named me that to remember when I was conceived.”
I started to laugh, then realized she was not joking, so I just nodded. “I”m Brad. Bradley. I mean Brad.” This red headed tomboy had me off balance.
“Nice to meetcha Brad Bradley Brad. ‘Round here we may have a Billy Bob but not usually three names.” She grinned.
“Just pick whatever one you like,” I said, laughing. She was easy to talk to and comfortable to be around.
“Do you have much to do at Birdie’s?” she asked. I told her about the estate project in between a steady stream of customers. “If you ever need help, let me know. I”m usually sold out mid-afternoon and done until early produce pickings the next morning.”
Sure enough, I looked at the shelves again and there was not much left of her wares. “Feel free to come anytime. I’m at the house every day.” She smiled and nodded. “Oh… just as long as you bring those boiled peanuts,” I said, laughing.
I stopped at the diner and picked up a burger and fries to-go and went back to the motel. It was lost in a time warp but meticulously clean. An older couple owned it all their married lives, took great pride, and it showed.
I turned on the television which was a big old tube job on rabbit ears that got snowy images on every channel. All three. I just listened normally, but tonight I could not get the image and sweet sing-song voice of Georgia out of my mind. I was way too old for her, but a man can dream. And fantasize.
I thought of her full rosy red lips and the peek of cleavage the green camo blouse allowed. Before I knew it I had my dick in hand and cumming hard to provocative images of a naked Georgia.
The next morning I had my usual grits, eggs, and coffee at the diner. Since I had been here a week, I was a regular and she was calling my order into the kitchen when I walked in, and a steaming mug of strong coffee was on the table by the time I sat down. Bessie was not one much for talking, and I was not one much for anything in the morning. Besides coffee. Which she kept filled.
I woke up with Georgia on my mind and thinking Ray Charles although he was before my time I didn’t if he was talking about the woman or the state. As I drove in and out of the invisible Georgia Florida border to get to Aunt Birdies, I considered stopping by her stand first but thought better of it.
I boxed up more books to ship, more for the thrift store, and the last of Birdie’s jams. I thought to just swing by the stand on my way back to the motel, but it was boarded up and she was gone for the day. I was surprised at the disappointment I felt. Brad old boy you’ve been isolated in this burg too long.
I made a few calls back home to friends and family and felt more myself. I told the family that I was working on Birdie’s house, but it was going to take longer than I thought. I wasn’t sure why they cared because they weren’t in the inheritance, but people can dream I guess. They didn’t pay her no mind until after she died as Georgia so correctly had pointed out.
The next morning I woke up to pouring rain. I didn’t want to run through that deluge for breakfast and figured I’d knock off early and get lunch.
I bumped and slid down the mud slick road that was as dicey as driving on ice. I pulled as close to the house as I could and ran through the rain and up the steps to get out of the pelting rain.
“You forgot your umber-ella.” I started and looked up to see Georgia sitting on the porch swing.
“I don’t even think it would help with this downpour,” I said, shaking my jacket off and hanging it on the back of an old rocking chair. “Not too good for business either I’d guess.”
“She-it, those pansies want me to deliver it to their cars. Dayum if I’m gonna do that..”
I couldn’t hold it in any longer and laughed at her cursing and colorful language. I sat on the swing with her and enjoyed the rain that was stinging the metal roof.
“Did you ever sleep under a metal roof in a rain like this?”
“No, can’t say I have, but I bet it’s relaxing to listen to.”
“Yup.” She crossed her long legs at the knee and I kept the swing going. “Birdie has a bedroom in the attic and I loved to lay there and listen to the rain.”
“Oh, you used to stay with her?”
“Sometimes.” Her sharp reply didn’t invite more.
She pointed to the big picnic basket and bag near the door that I hadn’t noticed.”I brought you food. And thank you for the jam. I figured that was the last of it.” I nodded.
“Yup.” She pointed out to the driveway which was a sea of water where I had just driven through. “I knew that you wouldn’t Sultangazi escort bayan realize that it flooded out here and would come on out. You’ll be here awhile Brad Bradley Brad. This is a real gully washer.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” I sighed. “but thanks to you I’ll eat.”
Thankfully I hadn’t had the electricity turned off and as it became darker outside, the house did too. I took the groceries in and we stowed the refrigerated stuff in the old Frigidaire that could have been used in an ad for their longevity.
She volunteered to help with the books and we did for a while, but even with lamps we gathered from around the house, it was still to dark to see.
“Hey, do you want to go listen to the rain?” I nodded and she nearly skipped up the two flights of steps.
The attic was amazingly large and big windows at each end gave a nice diffused light. In the middle was a big old brass bed piled with quilts. The headboard gave off a soft warm glow. She ran over to one of the old trunks, knelt in front of it, and opened it. I ran my finger over the warm wood on the dresser and it was amazingly dust-free. The top was cluttered with cut glass bottles and tins of women’s toiletries from back in the day. I picked one up to smell it. Distinctly lily of the valley.
“I love it here,” she murmured, her lap full of lace and satin. She held up a gown of satin, ribbons at the shoulders. I assume it was nightwear from back then.
She stood up and picked up a lace dress. Holding the bodice to her front, she pulled the skirt out and twirled around.
“Try it on!”
“It’s lace and there’s no slip.”
“Oh, okay.” I thought how shockingly obscene it would be back in those days to wear it without the slip. Then momentarily wondered where that came from.
“Don’t look!” I heard a rustling of clothing behind me. Would she actually….? “Turn around!”
Bracing myself, I did. She found a satin gown that I was sure was silk. She was busty so the bodice stretched tightly across her chest. It dropped to cling seductively to her hips. Never would I have imagined a dress that great-grandmother would wear would be so fucking sexy, but Georgia nailed it. When she glanced down I realized my cock was standing up in my pants with his vote.
“You look very sexy in that, Georgia,” I said truthfully.
She looked incredulous. “Really?” I nodded and she ran over to a dusty old pedestal mirror and looked at herself. She ran her hands over the satin of her tits and nipples poked through the shiny fabric. You could see the outline of her bra and she tried to tuck the straps in the dress but the design didn’t allow for a bra. Or at least that kind. I had no idea what their underpinnings were back then.
She smoothed her hands down her sides and over her hips. “They were very elegant then weren’t they.”
“Yes, they were. It’s almost sad we have lost that through the years.”
She quickly cupped her tits before nodding. “Yes.”
I went to look out the window while she removed the dress. She came up behind me and we watched the rain pelt the window. It hammered on the roof, loud but soothingly constant.
I turned and saw she had moved the quilts and left just one along with two pillows. I took my shoes off and stretched out on the bed and she did the same. Her little finger touched mine. I didn’t move, just closed my eyes and listened and felt. Finally, her little finger curled around mine and that was the way we stayed.
I must have dozed because I woke up to her gone, the rain still beating on the roof, and the scent of bacon wafting up the stairs. I checked to make sure my car hadn’t floated away before going downstairs.
“We’re having breakfast for dinner.”
“I like breakfast for dinner. I often do dinner for breakfast. Like pizza.”
She looked at me, grinned then popped the top of a beer and passed it to me. I’m not sure how much Aunt Birdie would have approved of us sitting at her table eating bacon and eggs for dinner with a beer. But it worked for us.
“It’s still pouring and I can’t take you home. Can you stay? I don’t want you walking through this mess.”
“Do you need to call anyone to let them know you won’t be home?”
“Okay, then it’s set. Neither of us will go out in this miserable weather.”
She cleaned up and didn’t want help. I futzed around and found a radio that got in a local station relatively well. Country of course, but she started bouncing around the music so I was happy with it. She stood at the sink with her hips swaying to the music. Another song came on and she started singing along and really gyrating to the music.
She twirled and saw me watching and stopped. She turned back to the dishes and I felt like a lecher for getting caught. I went over, pulled up a lamp, and went through a small table of books.
A while later she put her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go to bed.”
I Escort Taksim thought, oh I wish, then realized she meant it. She turned and slowly walked up the staircase. I followed and we were back up in the attic. She went over in the dark and turned a small bedroom light on that glowed pink through the faded rose shade.
I sat on the edge of the bed and removed my socks, shoes, and shirt. I stood up and dropped my pants and slid between the sheets. We were as before but this time she put her hand on mine, and I wove my fingers through hers and we went to sleep with the rain still knocking on the tin roof.
Sometime during the night, we changed positions and I woke up with her sleeping soundly curled at my side. Her arm was across my chest, her leg over my morning wood. My arm was around her and rested on her side. I realized then she was naked.
No way was I able to move without waking her. No way did I want to wake her. It had been too long since I had a woman in my arms. And especially a young woman. I must have dozed off again and this time she had changed positions. She was stretched out and her leg was between mine and the warmth of her pussy on my thigh was steamy. She had rolled towards me and her left breast rested on my chest, her right smashed against my side. Her head was on my shoulder and her arm was wrapped across my waist.
She stirred and I woke but pretended to be asleep to give her time to move away from me without being embarrassed that she was sprawled naked on an old guy.
I felt her breath on my jaw and knew she was looking at me. I knew any moment she would roll away and this would turn into a jerk-off fantasy for the rest of my life. I waited.
“Mmmm,” she moaned, loud enough to wake me up. When I didn’t move, she repeated and I could no longer play dead.
“Oh, good morning,” I said, immediately thinking, damn Brad, is that the best you can do. “Sounds like the rain let up.”
She stretched out against me and settled back in. “It sounds like it. I think the sun is out.” She was as casual as if we woke up like this every morning. She moved her knee and her thigh slid over my morning wood and it throbbed. “Mmmm.” She pushed her breasts against me and got even closer. “I’m a little cool.”
I reached down and pulled the quilt over her shoulders and she sighed. “You still won’t be able to drive out of here until it dries out, and I’m not going to slog through the mud to go pick and open the stand. It’s a good day for just lollygaggin’ around the house.” She said, still making no move to get up. She was all warm and cuddly against me and I could have stayed there all day but I had to get up and use the bathroom.
“I have to get up,” I said untangling myself from her. I felt her eyes on me as I went down the stairs to the bathroom.
When I came out, she was coming down the stairs. Her long braids were loose and she had my white t-shirt on.
“I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” I said, trying to tear my eyes off the nipples that poked through the thin knit.
“I’m fixin’ to take a shower.”
I swallowed hard and stood there in the hall in my boxer shorts with my cock tenting the fly out. One move and he was out the door.
“Do you want to go first?”
“No no, you go.” Please. So I can move.
She made a point of looking at the front of my boxers for a moment before going into the bathroom. I ran upstairs to get my clothes and when I came down, the bathroom door was open and the sweet-scented steam rolled out. I rushed on down the stairs but not before looking in but the shower curtain was too opaque to see.
I found coffee and had water on the stove when she came in. She had a snow white towel turban on her head and she must have been in one of the trunks because she had a floor-length satin robe on from another era. It was a shimmering light blue silk and clung to her body. The belt was tied but the front gaped open when she moved, obviously not intended for a woman with such wonderfully ample breasts.
I poured us both coffee and we sat at the table. She tapped her mug with her unvarnished fingernails and talked about how she might help me here today and all I could see behind that mug was the silk clinging like a second skin to her breasts. The nipples poked through and I could see the bumps of her aureoles in the silk.
Another old lecher move, I thought to myself. Get with it Brad I thought, and focused on the conversation.
We started that morning and by mid-afternoon, we were cross-eyed exhausted, and done. I looked out at my car, still looking adrift in a sea of rust colored muddy water. It had not receded one bit. They had so much rain previously that there was nowhere for it to go and the ground was saturated. Gully washer indeed.
“Hey! Let’s go to the spring and take a dip. I haven’t been in a long time.”
“I haven’t been in years,” I said, smiling at the memories of my childhood with Aunt Birdie.
After a couple of wrong turns, she thought it was over yonder and sure enough it was over yonder. Like a lush green oasis, the water sparkled and the surrounding vegetation was a vibrant green. I had forgotten how clear it was. I heard a splash and looked up in time to see her naked body slicing into the water.
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