Awakening Katie Ann

Readers, thank you for all your input and encouragement you have given me for 'The Magazine Girl' series I've written recently. If you are new to my work, I might suggest looking back at my stories about an older gent, a young woman and their escapades set in the beautiful North Georgia mountains. A page has turned now, as time unwinds to a new season, new romance, but peopled with characters from my previous stories. Again, thank you in advance for your readership.

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Lunch with Katie Ann

I heard them coming a good ways off. The sound would diminish then grow louder anew. I came out of Katie Ann's barn just in time to see a trio of sport bikes thunder by. I stood and waited until quiet returned to the peaceful setting. After a little while, a dove started cooing again and a squirrel chattered from a tulip tree just starting to leaf out. A rag and an open end wrench was still in my hand, the old Ford tractor behind me, patiently awaiting my care.

The barn was gloomy where my battered mechanic's light wasn't illuminating. As the sun broke through, I watched the rays sweep out over the fields, now greening, preparing for spring. The dew shown on the stubbled corn stalks across the road, steaming slightly with the sun's advent. Still I stood, facing down the graveled drive, mentally turning from winter's calendar, but without banishing my reveries from only shortly ago.

Gwendolyn had gotten 'discovered' just before Thanksgiving. My Magazine Girl was heard at a wedding in Clayton by the sister of a songwriter in Nashville. We hugged and made promises when the car came for her. I'd heard the demos. She was on her way. She'd already been on Youtube, but now she'd be working sessions in Nashville. Her text a week ago included pictures. She had her arm around a fiddle player, grinning, happy.

I turned back to the tractor's carburetor sitting on the bench, carefully cutting out a new float bowl gasket from a sheet of cork. A muse. It wasn't as hard this time as it was when Karla died. But I still didn't like the winter's deathly silence that greeted me when I came home. I didn't like the solitude as I worked at my desk or cooking for one. I'd forgotten how loud the wall clock ticked. I slept on the couch some. The bed was too cold, now inhospitable, changed by her absence.

Those months with Gwen were like fireflies on a summer night. The moments shared were indelible in my mental sketchpad. The chrysalis was complete. The butterfly emerged, my pride in her eternal.

The tractor's engine had settled in to a steady tickover, the first since Katie Ann's husband died. I was engaging the PTO to raise the bush hog mower when Kate appeared at the barn's door, fanning fumes.

"Hey Big Un, climb down. You hungry?"

"Yep, getting there." Inwardly I chuckled as I dismounted. We were getting comfortable, at least starting to. She had started calling me pet names. A good sign, I thought.

It was incongruous. I looked like a farmhand in a sweatshirt and worn out jeans, my greasy ball cap pushed back. It was Saturday, so I wasn't being lawyerly. Kate was trim in tailored slacks, her arms out of a sweater around her shoulders and then of all things, tennis shoes. I started laughing.

She looked around at me perplexed, as I followed her up the path to the side door. I liked the way her bottom moved as she strode along. I liked it even better last night.

Recollections are seconds borne of an entire narrative condensed, here's mine.

She was washing up the dinner's dishes as I rinsed and dried. The skies out the kitchen window had become a deepening blue, yet the sun still caught the high clouds in full light. We set aside our tasks to watch, her in her apron, leaning back against me. Nothing was said as the clouds winked out, deep blue skies to black. My arms held her shoulders, her head nestled under my chin.

Kate went to draw her bath. She had said that she lets Calgon take her away, but she liked bubbles too. Maybe that was the secret to how pleasurable she was to touch, to hold, to cuddle. She called to me for matches to light her candle, told me where to look. Smiling brown eyes, hair swept up in a bun greeted my entrance. The claw foot tub and bubbles conspired to hide her loveliness, save Katie Ann's face in repose as I read Bronte to her from a stool, by flickering candle light. Outside, an owl hooted, questing mice and a little space heater hummed by the door.

Closing the book's chapter, I left, allowing privacy for her to emerge. We were still getting acquainted in many ways. It takes longer sometimes for olders. After the episode in my car with her last year, she became embarrassed with herself and her sensibilities. For the first few months after Gwen had left, we only saw each other at Chamber meetings other than when she came over to the house near Christmas and we cuddled and watched old movies. I gave her time. My interest in Kate was cautious, never wanting to intrude. I'd admired her for years, careful not to gawk or misspeak. And everyone grieves loss at their own pace.

She had invited me for dinner. Here I was. I found some old Georgia RFD magazines under a pie crust side table in the den and started thumbing through, noticing that they were all over a year old. A soft voice called to me from the bedroom.

There was a radiant painting of Jesus on the wall, lit by the light from the walk in closet. One side of it was empty, the other, women's clothing. There were some hangers...a match flared bedside, wick catching, glimpse of arm and breast, covers covering. A wind blew, the windowpane rattled, the solitary candle flickered as I stood in my boxers.

"Come near", Kate breathed.

I complied, standing to her bedstead, her head propped on eiderdown, eyes intent on mine, dark pools in the candle's gleam. Her forearm emerged, fingers languid on my thighs, grasping my flesh, only to recede, trailing fingernails ever closer to my manhood. She tugged the hem of my shorts, impatient for their removal. I felt the cool air at my exposure, my manhood inches from her hand. She was intent to her task, a gasp escaping me as she brushed my scrotum, my member thickening. Thus was her endeavor, growing more daring until her soft hand encircled me, pulling and stroking. She licked her hand, returning to slicken my tip, coaxing my juices as I jerked. We gazed at each in turn as her other hand began a quest unseen save for the rippling over her pudenda.

Holding myself, she drew me nearer, to thumb my sensitive spot as she drew my cock's head into her warm wet mouth. Her tongue rimmed my edge, her squeezes and pulls exciting a spurt. She moaned, her other hand no longer secretive. I heard wet gushy sounds under the covers as her hips jerked once, twice.

I reached down to pull the bedclothes asunder, to caress her breast, to finally view the beauty, but was refused, her elbow wedging the covers, shaking her head.

Kate pulled me against the bed to take in more of me, sucking urgently. She took my hand and placing it against my cock, impelling me to self caress whilst her artful tongue darted, embellished and teased, so skillful she! The more I handed myself, the more furious her play, the liquid sounds of Kate's mounting arousal unmistakable.

I was amazed at her boldness. It was almost more erotic to hear her lust's response to her quickening hand under the covers. Still she orally pleasured my end while watching me stroke myself. It came to me that perhaps she might be acting out a fantasy. If so, the tempest was rising. Her other hand disappeared to hold her own breast, tugging the nipple. I could tell this as the blanket fell back away, leaving only the sheet to hide her travails. She gasped and launched a flurry of little suck kisses, each one a tiny thrill, challenging my composure.

In my own fog of reddening lust, I became aware of the warning signals in my belly, portending my own release. I was stroking the length of my cock while my able fellatrix awakened sexual nerves I'd never known. More slickness escaped me and she exclaimed, her surprise tipping her into her own feminine vortex. Her hips snapped up, to meet her rapid rub and completing her journey. Katie Ann's moan was loud and deep, as wet hairs clung to her forehead, eyes tightly closed.

I had stopped my play during her release, so close was I, but reluctant to spill in such circumstance. As she recovered, I turned back the covers to behold my lover's nakedness, admiring her in her languidness, a flush between soft orbs splayed, nipples still taught, her rounded waist flaring to womanly hips. The smell of her arousal emanated from her long soft dark haired puss, sticky wet about her promise, the ministrations leaving her petals open and slack. Her shapely thighs were above the sheets, the rest hidden below. I had imagined her beauty, but the bounty before me confirmed all my suspicions and more.

Kate's eyes opened, gleaming in the candle's light. She stretched, beckoning me to sit at bed's edge. Chuckling deep, "You know I was trying to make you come too?"

I cupped her soft heavy breast, lightly tugging her nipple, far gentler than she had just done. "I was close, but didn't want to fill your mouth. It was all I could do to stop." I reached down, touching an errant tendril on her puss and curling it.

Katie Ann reached out, tickling my distension, making it bob. "Oh no sir, but that was what I wanted you to do" thumbing slickness over the glans. "Sorry for my reluctance earlier. Only my mother and my husband has ever seen me undressed. Silly, isn't it?"

By answer I leaned over to kiss her breasts, suckling each nipple in turn, licking, adoring. Her hand encased my need, gently scratching and patting, her other running through my hair. In silence thus did we explore depending on cues, not words, rekindling my lover's fires as her soft hands went exploring my body, touching here, kneading there, drawing my lips up to hers for a deep longing kiss, appreciating, trusting as she whispered, "Cover me."

Kate drew me into the bed, her sleek thighs opening, legs bent, her wet flower dewed and ready, helping me position, me lowering...I felt her heat ere any touch, a wisp of hair crossed my tip, Katie Ann's hand guiding to the wetness, the entry. We stopped, accommodating. She slowly rubbed me up and down her thick furrow, encased as it was in soft shiny wet fur. Her slickness coated my end, combining with my own. I shivered in my want, my desperation to mount becoming terribly urgent. Kate drew my cock's head slowly over her clit, now proud again from our play. My cock would pass and it would spring anew, questing for the next visit. Our eyes met, her jaw slack with want, hips moving to each stroke. Then suddenly, her hand held me not captive, leaving me positioned at her soaked entrance. I claimed my prize albeit as slowly as one could stand, but took of her nearly half before I could stop.

Gunpowder in the candlewick crackled and flared as I entered more, then withdrew. She moved with me, thrusting back at my next challenge, encasing my cock in what seemed a hot wet glove. Kate put her hand between us, gently jacking me. I swelled, making her gasp. "Easy, easy now." Patting my back, then pushing me more into her. She pulled down, then thrust upwards, finally taking all of me. Both hands now held me. I took my first full thrust into her, reveling in her body, her feel, her softness. Speechless in my need, I could only groan my delight as I did take her and we were one. Below, Katie Ann's eyes were closed, murmuring, "Yes, yes, yes, this is good, so good." The headboard began a slow knock on the wall as our need soared, my imminence foretold. Her thick belly rubbed against mine as I impaled her so deeply, her inner walls clamping, then releasing. Her heavy breasts swayed side to side until I caught one up, squeezing it. I tried to stave off, to lengthen our coupling, but to no avail. It had already been too much. Kate felt me swell and the gentle sorceress grabbed my ass, pushing me in to the hilt alas, tightening on me and forcing my eruption. As I began, her thrusting hips worked me from under, emptying me as my seed spurted, myself helpless in a maelstrom of my own making.

A micro eternity elapsed, my soul reconnecting the dots after the burst, conscious now of my being deeply inside Kate, wishing to stay, the comfort, room coming into vision and so the candle wax melting...

"You can lay on me, please." My seductress pulling me to her bosom, kissing my neck, a nibble on my shoulder.

I became aware of her luxury, the softness that only certain older women attain. I was confounded at her prowess, her knowledgeable ways of delighting a man, of knowing what to do when. I wondered her thoughts, My better angels counseled silence, to focus rather on our steadying heartbeats.

I felt her breathe deep, movement. "Me on top, please?" I acquiesced, Kate now above, sitting up, us still deeply connected.

Her breasts hung close to me as she kissed me. I couldn't resist holding their soft droop, their roundness and how quickly her nipples hardened at my touch. Her soft butt wiggled on my shaft, still deeply buried.

I am not a young man, this my readers know. And once I've achieved my deliverance, you can draw the shades. Katie Ann was only marginally younger, but...

She breathed, "Can I have you again? I want you."

The last said in my ear as she breathed, quickening her pace, hardening my spent rod. She rode my manhood, her hips almost Latin in their fore and aft dance, eyes closed tight, focusing, headboard staccato on the wall, riding me to her oblivion, her crescendo in only moments, collapsing on to me. A fine sheen of sweat was on her forehead as she gave me a final kegel squeeze before dismounting.

I petted her bottom as she rose up, she, a little punch to my arm. "Oh! Much better." She grinned, climbing off and looking at my forlorn worn out appendage. "Did you get tired, hmmm?" Katie Ann examined it, flopping it one way, then the other. I had to laugh.

"You know I MIGHT use that mushroom in a salad if he's not careful, LOOK at him, poor thing!" She grabbed a towel out from under the pillow to staunch our flow from herself, then laid her head on my shoulder. We dozed.

Continuing with Lunch

Kate discerned that I was laughing at her tennis shoes, being so stylish otherwise. As she opened the kitchen door, she let me know those were her yard shoes and she didn't like to use them. Yards, farms and such were to be dealt with by the man, thank you very much. Her mouth was a firm line.

I must have looked abashed, chagrined, alarmed whatever, causing her to burst out laughing.

"I'm teasing you, you old dope! Oh God, the look on your FACE. Let me get my phone, get a picture, oh that's just PRICELESS. Come on, fried chicken's hot."

We ate lunch, gabbed about this and that. She told me she had a meeting at two o'clock for an upcoming wedding, wouldn't be long. Oh and that there was a stew ready to be laid on for tonight, don't bother the crock pot.

I scratched my head. "Sounds like I'm staying here."

"Well, yes, aren't you? You have the tractor fixed right?"

"Yep, seems to be fine now. Haven't checked the bush hog yet but it's..."

Katie Ann cut in, "It's fine too, and I KNOW the pastures could use a good mowing!" Big smile.

"They do at that and since you've prepaid with lunch, I'd best get at it." I grabbed her around the shoulders, hugged her to me.

"I wanted you to stay all day, do man things." She brushed her perfect hair back with her hand as we parted.. "And I thought you might want to play on the tractor for awhile." A little grin peeped through the clouds. "And I make a pretty fair breakfast too!"

I didn't tell her that my overnight valise was in my fishing gear in the back of the Jeep, unlike the night before.

It grew warmer as the day wore on. I had the forethought to grease the bush hog bearings before pulling out and running rows. The field was going to take knocking down twice, being wet the last six or so inches. The Ford droned on, the cracked bakelight steering wheel warm in my hands. Robins started following me at the second pass, looking for worms.

I thought about Ray, Katie Ann's deceased husband, last driver of this equipment. I thought about the night before. The sun was golden in the sky and I was carefree, the thought making me laugh aloud. Task complete, I got down, opened the gate to the back pasture, pulled through and began mowing it too.

There was a pond here for cattle and in fact there was very little damage to the fencing except where the cows liked to scratch. No cattle now, but Katie Ann was at the gate. The minute she knew I saw her, she flipped her sweater up, flashing me, her big orbs gleaming in the sunlight. I swerved, gawking and nearly ran into the fence. I could see her laughing and shaking her head, skipping back towards the house like a schoolgirl. And, of course, wearing those tennis shoes.

The sun was tracking low into a ribbon of clouds off to the northwest as I pulled the door closed, leaving the old tractor to cool in the dark. I wedged the door better on the corn crib and watched a man drive by in his dually, pulling a trailer's worth of Charolais, the hogs packed tight. We waved as birds started making their settling sounds in Katie Ann's magnolia by the lover's bench. A Rhode Island Red regarded me balefully, before strutting off towards the smokehouse. I got my overnight bag and headed towards the house.

The lights were on in the kitchen and I could see Kate in the kitchen window. I could tell she was singing. Singing means happy, at least usually. Hopefully I was affording her a social construct, a return to normalcy. At this point, we were experiencing a comfort, and to find we were physically compatible was a reassurance.

My time in the recent past had bothered her, the nature of my relationship with Gwendolyn might have explained the initial reluctance through the winter to be less than remote.

I couldn't tell Miss Ma'am that it wasn't just physical with Gwen, that it was an affectionate space in time, and in the interim, there was humor, fly fishing and crazy escapades galore that so much rejuvenated me after the loss of my beloved Karla. Gwendolyn, in her innocent youth returned to me a wish to live, to love and to care once again.

In the end, Katie Ann was complicit in thrusting Gwendolyn into a better life, exposing her as she did to appreciative audiences.

Evening Quarters

The stillness of the eve brought down the temperature, interrupting my reverie. Kate had vanished from the window, although the light was still on. The chickens had gathered around my feet, clucking, pecking, seeking grist. I stood stiffly from the lover's bench I'd claimed, the birds going hither and tho, but making generally for the coop. I rolled down my sleeves, while I brushed the mud from my old Dingos at door's edge. At that moment the door swung in and I was confronted with a visage, a montage of beauty encompassing my entire view as she beamed at me, the woman I've admired lo these many years.

Her hair was swept up with a clip, but allowing so much auburn to cascade about her neck, pooling at her breast above a low cut creation that afforded a tantalizing view, a promise of beauties to be held and adored. Below I beheld a casual full length ribbed skirt that accentuated her femininity without denying the fullness childbirth brings.

She was gorgeous.

For her to go through that trouble to please my eyes was incomprehensible. I was flattered beyond question. That she thought that much of me to give me her all rendered me speechless, I could only gape.

She knew her affect from my reaction. Taking my hands in hers, she drew me inside, grabbing my valise. Ridding me of my boots, Kate took me in the mud room, the farmer's bath and peeling my clothes in a pile under the sink. Turning away from wristing the water temp in the tub, Katie Ann kissed me long and deep, as if I'd only just returned from Morocco.