Georgia's: Boiled Peanuts

Georgia was up and gone to pick before I came down. The sketches were on the table with a scrawled note.

I like this one. Can it be done before you leave?

I immediately thought sure, I would make sure it was done. But then I realized I had no idea of when I was going to leave. I owned a condo in Charlotte that was fine without me, and I did my work from here, or there. Made no difference. I guess I assumed I would leave when Birdie's house sold. By then her books would safely be in the collector's hands and I had thought to have what was left auctioned off.

I had no life to get back to, but I wanted Georgia to get out and find some guy her age. After I was gone because I sure did not want to see her with anyone. That would be too painful.

I would have to find someone to build it and get the proper permits before starting. Not being familiar with the area, I had no idea of how long that would take. Which brought me to the conclusion that I had no real answer for her.

She was home by mid-afternoon and before we could get into any serious discussion, she wanted to narrow down the jams and jellies and sundry other things that filled our tiny refrigerator.

We decided on a method, set up the jars, glasses of water, and scorepads.

"I like this mango jam. They don't grow here but the woman that makes this gets them in southern Florida. It'll be unusual," she said and I agreed.

"This wild blueberry is pretty tasty too," I said and she agreed. The next three we ruled out and chose another four, giving us six new jams.

We brought out the pickles, but because there was pickled cauliflower, brussel sprouts, broccoli, Vidalia onions, and okra, we had to narrow it down yet again.

Making the choices took the rest of the afternoon. I was continually amazed at how these tasted good enough to be in a mainstream grocery store. Finally, we were done and although we had taken the smallest of tastes, we were pretty full, we decided on grilled cheese for dinner.

Georgia buttered the bread and began slicing the fresh tomatoes she brought home. When I saw her put them between two pieces of cheese in the bread before she grilled them, I was a little hesitant. But, decided to withhold comment until I ate it. Just like the boiled peanuts, it might be my new favorite food here.

She slid the sandwich off the spatula onto the plate in front of me. "Here ya go, Brad Bradly Brad."

"You know, I've never had grilled cheese with tomato before." She stopped and looked at me like I had grown a third eye in the middle of my forehead.

"What? Never?"

"Never."

"You have led a sheltered life. I spose you haven't had shoo-fly pie either? Don't answer that," she said rolling her eyes.

"I do believe I have," I said, picking the sandwich up and taking a bite. The gooey rich cheese mingled with the acid of the tomato and I said, "Damn this is really good!"

She grinned. "I'm glad you like it. Better I'm glad you tried it before saying no. I hate that. So feckin' rude!"

We decided to watch a movie and settled on the bed.

"You never answered if the stand could be done by the time you leave me?"

Leave me. Those words were like a kick in the gut. Before I leave her. Putting it that way made me sound like a real scuzzball. Damn.

"I'm not exactly leaving you, honey." I tried to measure my words as carefully as I possibly could.

"No? What are you doing then? If you're not staying with me, you're leaving me right?"

"Well yeah... No... I mean you need to get back to your life. This will all be wrapped up eventually," I said, waving my hand around. "And I'll be done here."

"I see." She drummed her fingers on the bed. "And you have decided that without even discussing it with me?"

"Decided what?" I said, confused.

"That I needed to get back to my life? What if this is my life? This is what I want? I am about to pitch a hissy fit, Brad Bradley Brad," she growled, hands on her hips.

"You want this?" I asked, waving my hand. "The house? It's yours!"

"Bless your heart. You really have no idea, do you?"

"I guess not."

"You must be ready to get back to your life in Charlotte, I guess," she asked.

I had a feeling a lot of things were going to hinge on my answer to this one question. I looked at her and tried to quickly weigh all the angles. "I, uh," I faltered. "Not really, no."

"When do you reckon you'll know?"

"Maybe when you get tired of me," I smiled. She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and walked out.

We found a builder for her new stand and met with him. He assured us he could get it done in a timely manner.

After he left, she scoffed, "Timely. No such thing in the south. They're all slower than a Sunday afternoon."

Sure enough, we did not hear from him again for two weeks. In that time Georgia worked on the interior shelving and storage. She ordered canned goods that we tasted. She lined up a baker that would drop homemade bread every day. Again I was impressed with her business acumen. She was very shrewd.

She found a cork board somewhere and set it up in her office and kept track of each project she was working on. She would ask for my opinion occasionally, but overall it was her baby. Vendors began calling her and every evening she had a ton of voicemails to go through.

It began to rain and she came to me and said, "Let's go to bed."

We turned off the lights and climbed the steps to the attic. She turned to me and slipped the oversize shirt off her shoulders.

A vintage white slip hugged her curves. The upper edge and hem were trimmed with delicate white lace. The body of the slip was sheer and silky. The bodice was sheer with tiny pleats. Vintage often did not account for the larger breasts of women today and the sheer cups were full with her ample tits. Hard nipples poked through the sheer. Narrow white satin ribbon attempted to hold her luscious flesh up.

Her red hair was pinned up with escaped curls dancing around her head. "You look beautiful Georgia," I breathed. I pulled my shirt over my head and dropped my pants. My cock throbbed in front of me while I took in her body, her sweet face.

"Mmmm, is that for me?"

"Always for you. Only for you, honey." I said the true words. I took her in my arms, sliding my hands over the silky slip. I cupped her ass and pulled her into me. "You are so sexy in this."

Because of her, I discovered that although I love skin on skin, there are times a tantalizing mystery is just as erotic.

I backed her against the big brass headboard and raised her arms and wrapped them around a brass curve. She hung on and arched her back. I began to slide the satiny skirt higher and higher until the lace hem exposed her sweet pussy, and let the silky fabric slide down her skin. I heard her breath increase. Her tits were tight in the sheer cups, her nipples lewdly poked out of the soft fabric.

I wrapped my hands around both breasts and kneaded and squeezed, studying her soft flesh and feeling the firmness in my hands. I urged a ribbon strap over her shoulder and down her arm. I pulled the lace edge cup down slowly, excruciatingly slow to expose her breast. I rubbed the lace over her nipple, abrading it with the texture.

She mewed and squirmed. She still clung to the headboard, her eyes were dark with lust hooded. Strands of red hair had fallen over her face and shoulders and clung to her damp skin.

I pressed my lips on hers and she parted them in invitation. I kept the kisses, light, erotically teasing. My cock throbbed and wanted attention, but this was for Georgia now. I stepped back and cupped a breast in each hand, one behind the lace and sheer, the other exposed and bare. Her nipples were hard and I tugged on each one. Her back arched and her head fell back.

She looked like a tawdry dame from the cover of an old trashy dime novel. I pushed the other strap down and traced the outline of the bodice on her skin. Her breath hissed through her teeth. I uncovered that breast leaned over and took it into my mouth. She moaned when I tugged on her nipple with my teeth. I reached under her slip and ran my finger between her soft lips. She was wet. Very wet.

"Turn around." She let go, turned, and grabbed back on again. I pulled her skirt up and bared her ass. I rubbed circles on her firm ass. She began to purr, low and deep.

I pressed up behind her and kissed her neck. She moaned and pushed her ass back into me.

"Do you want it?"

"Yesssss," she hissed. I slid my cock between her legs. "Brad... I need you..." I rubbed my cock head between her soft lips. She moaned. I pushed in and she thrust back, sliding on until my cock was ball deep inside her. I held her hips rocking into her, deep and fast. I knew I wouldn't last long after that, and right then her pussy clamped down on my cock and she shuddered, mewing long and low.

Her pussy milked my cock and my balls twinged. I locked inside her, and exploded hard and loud.

She dropped her arms to her sides and caught her breath. "Ohhhh Brad that was good. That was so fecking good."

The next morning I woke up and she was already gone, but the smell of bacon wafted up two flights. I pulled on my shorts and headed down.

"Whoa!" Georgia was at the stove cooking up bacon, but somewhere she found a frilly vintage apron. It flashed through my mind that this was going to be payback for our sex last night.

She turned and said, "Sit down Brad Bradley Brad, breakfast is almost done."

The front bodice square was held up by a loop around her neck and was edged in a ruffle of the same tiny blue flower cotton. The edges barely covered her nipples and when she moved, the top would give me a flash of nipple.

The skirt of the apron was of the same fabric and full. The wide waistband created the back straps that tied into a large bow, with the tails hanging down over her bare ass.

She leaned over the table to serve the bacon and eggs and her bodice moved to reveal one breast, then as she stood up, it was hidden again.

"Aren't you hungry, Brad?" I glanced at her face.

"Uhm, you're certainly looking like a fifties hot housewife this morning," I stammered. She smiled. "You don't have to pick for the stand this morning?"

She turned to the counter to butter the toast. Her sexy ass between the back opening of the apron skirt was driving me crazy.

She sat down. "I have to meet with the builder this morning to go over some things."

"Not like that I hope."

"No silly! This is all for you," she smiled seductively.

"Lucky me," I sighed, wondering how I was going to get this out of my head to make it through the day.

"I'm going to clean out the pantry later so we can get some food in. Everything is pretty much out of date from Birdie," she said matter of factly.

I kept glancing to see if I got another flash of nipple. "Sure, we can go into town to the grocery store later." A big grin formed on her face at that.

I had to get quite a bit of work done today so I was shut up in my office for the better part of the day. I would hear bumping and banging around at times. She brought in a sandwich and salad so I could work through lunch.

I was stunned when I walked into the kitchen later and found all the counters cleaned off of Birdie's bric a brac. In its place were what few more modern appliances that were here. I noticed everything she removed had been carefully stored away on a pantry shelf. I could smell a faint pine scent indicating she also scrubbed the kitchen down. Beyond that, the wonderful smell of meatloaf came from the oven.

"What do you think," she asked, wrapping her arms around my waist.

"Mmmm, I think you smell warm and good from your shower," I said, nuzzling her neck.

"The meatloaf is going to burn."

"I just checked, it has another thirty minutes."

We kissed and it escalated to hot and steamy. She had my pants open and pushed down to my knees and sat me on the kitchen chair. She straddled my lap and shimmied her tits in my face.

"Oh honey," I whispered, reaching under her shirt to massage her fleshy breasts. I sucked her nipples through the light cotton until she began to lower herself to slide onto my cock. I moaned.

She bounced and rode on my cock, letting her inner muscles milk my shaft. She threw her head back and moaned out an orgasm, her cunt tightened on my cock. I felt it in my balls and locked her down on me while I unloaded inside her.

We kissed. "Mmmm, I kinda like these quickies," she said. That's my Georgia, I thought.

Over dinner, we discussed the plans for her stand. Even though it was at the end of my road, I hadn't been out of the house to see it recently and I promised I would tomorrow.

The next afternoon I sniffed the air and couldn't decide what the delicious smell was, so I had to go investigate.

A pot bubbled and steamed on the stove and I looked in to see the wild blueberries she had found on the property. She came from the pantry carrying a big canning pot. I flashed back to Aunt Birdie using it when I used to stay here.

"I had a hankerin' for some blueberry jam so I picked on my way home from the stand."

"Smells wonderful, honey." She smiled brightly. A few hours later glass jars of purplish-blue blueberry jam cooled and pinged on the counter.

Dinner was meatloaf leftovers, which I was thrilled about, and a mix of fresh vegetables from the stand that she stir-fried. "These are really good, Georgia," I said of the vegetables.

"Thanks, it was a new idea."

"Hey, do you want to go to the grocery when you get home tomorrow?"

"Sure thing." She hesitated. "Can we get some paint for the kitchen maybe?"

After she had scrubbed the cabinets and walls it made it apparent that it was pretty worn. Who knows the last time Aunt Birdie painted it.

"Absolutely. We'll get paint and supplies first. Decide on a color."

She leaned over and threw her arms around my neck. "Thank you, Brad."

I was grateful she no longer seemed mad at me, and we were settling into a life routine. I loved going to sleep with her next to me, and I loved waking up to her next to me. I didn't know what I'd do without her, frankly. And that thought took me aback. Were we getting too comfortable? It would be painful to leave no matter, but the deeper we got into a relationship, the harder it would be on us both. I decided to put it out of my mind for now. I had to be around until the books were done and her stand was completed. I would just have to deal with it then.

We stopped at a big box store for paint and left with paint, a microwave, a ceiling fan, two new faucets, a new bathroom light and an ecstatic Georgia. We stopped at a drive-in where they roller-skated our burgers and fries to the car. Georgia dropped her empty milkshake cup into the trash on the way into the grocery. Most of the town knew her so we stopped to talk. She then loaded our cart so it took us numerous trips to get the car unloaded.

"Phew, I'm exhausted from bringing food and supplies before I ever get to the part about using them," I said laughing.

"Let's go out to the porch," she suggested. "I'll grab us a couple of long necks."

She sat on the swing and I had my head in her lap. She chattered about ideas for her new stand while she stroked my hair and all I could think was I would never get enough of her lilting southern drawl. Her feisty sweetness. Her wicked business sense. I have gotten by for years on my own, but now I wonder how I will make it without her.

When I woke up the next morning, Georgia was already gone to gather her vegetables. I was down to the last few piles of books. The dealers were thrilled with the collection they had received and I didn't feel the pressure anymore.

I sat at my desk, opened my laptop, pulled up a blank sheet, and began typing my first book. It flowed and flowed until Georgia came home. I didn't tell her my plan yet but felt a new sense of purpose.

"Hi honey, how goes it at the stand today?" I put my arms around her while she unloaded the vegetables she brought home for dinner.

She wiggled her ass against me. "Not as good as this feels," she murmured

I kissed the side of her neck and she moaned. "Mmmm," I whispered as she arched her neck and ground her ass into my hardness.

"Brad, I need you now." She pushed her shorts down to her ankles. "Now. I need you inside me."

She leaned over the counter and I pushed my pants to my knees. I ran my finger through her slick folds. She was wet. So wet. I held my cock and rubbed it up and down her pussy lips, circling the head on her clit. She moaned and rocked her hips. I positioned the head at her entrance and she pushed back, taking my cock deep in one thrust. My balls slapped her clit as we fucked. Hard and fast and hot, racing towards the edge. I held her hips and thrust into her. She groaned loud and her cunt rhythmically squeezed my cock. I followed her over the edge, locking deep inside her and filling her with hot seed.

We were both out of breath. "Ohhhhhh Bradley," she breathed. "You're so good for me."

A quickie in the kitchen with Georgia topped my list of best ever.

She came into my office later and said, "I'm going to make you a country boy yet... Tonight we're having chitlins for dinner!" She looked at me a moment and doubled over laughing. "The look on your face," and more peals of laughter.

"Ummm. Maybe not that much country?"

She leaned against the door, wiping her hands on a towel. She wore her usual cutoff denim shorts, a red checkered blouse tied at her waist, and knee-high farmer's boots and she was the sexiest thing I ever laid eyes on.

"I'm making you a possum pie from the recipe my Granny used to make." I looked at her suspiciously. "And fried chicken!"

"Sounds great, honey," I said, not going to fall for it again.

"You're doing a lot of typing for your work job."

"I've always wanted to write a book and I just started it."

A big smile lit up her face. "Really! I reckon that you finally deserve to do something for yourself." She came over and gave me a kiss. "I'll let you get back to writing while I get back to the possum for dinner." I watched that hot ass sashay out of the office.

I wrote for several hours and decided to take a break and start installing some of the things we got at the big box store. Georgia said she wanted to paint the kitchen herself, so I left it to her.

A few hours later I had both faucets installed and had to hunt her down to find out where she wanted the ceiling fan.

I knocked lightly on the bathroom door. "C'mon in, Brad Bradley Brad." I slowly pushed open the door and saw her up to her luscious tits in a bubble bath.

"You caught me," she smiled.

She had her red hair haphazardly pinned up and long strands floated in the water and clung to her wet skin. Seeing where I was looking she arched and pushed her tits above the water. They were covered in iridescent bubbles. I lightly caressed the underside of her breast under the water. She sucked in a breath through her teeth.

Her eyes were closed, head back, her lips slightly parted as I continued to caress her breasts. I pinched the hard nubs and tugged them longer, which brought a moan. Her tits were buoyant in the water and I lightly bounced them with my fingers and she arched, pushing them into my hand. Her tongue flicked across her lips.

I slid my fingers between her legs and her knees fell wide. I finger swirled the water around her clit. I created a tornado-like effect in the water on her clit without touching it.

"Oh my god," her voice heavy on her accent. "Yessssss."

I let my finger begin to flick across her clit in a slow tempo. She gripped the edge of the old claw foot tub as I did it faster and faster. Her body arched and stiffened as she whimpered her orgasm.

"God honey, you're so sexy," I whispered. Her eyes opened and she studied me for a minute.