Kentuck Woman: Interlude 02

This is the fifth installment of the Kentucky Woman saga. Kay and Frank met first in Kentucky when Frank was on a business trip. Their attraction was obvious and after one date and numerous phone and email communications, Kay traveled to New York to visit Frank where he opened her world up to new, exciting sexual possibilities. Now the couple are back in their respective homes; Kay in Kentucky, Frank in New York. Frank's account of his sexual life apart from Kay was seen in Interlude One. What follows Kay's sexual encounter during Frank's absence called Interlude Two.

I just returned from a business meeting with some potential buyers to one of my properties, when I heard the phone ring as I entered my house. I could see on the digital screen that it was the Kentucky area code. It was Kay.

"Hello beautiful," I said. "I was just thinking of you and how I need to get things organized here in the next few days so I'll have no work issues while I'm in Kentucky. I want no distractions when I'm with you, baby."

There was a pause on the other end. "Frank..." There was something wrong. Her voice was tentative....troubled.

"What's wrong, Kay?"

"I...I did something, Frank. Something I'm not very proud of."

I thought about what she said. "What, Kay? What could you have done that has upset you like this?"

"I don't even know if I should tell you. I'm so ashamed. You may not want to come here after I tell you."

Now I was very curious. "Did you do something....you know. Did you fuck someone."

There was silence again. So that was it.

"We talked about this, Kay. I don't care. I'm glad for you. It changes nothing between us. You know that."

I heard her sobbing on the other end.

"Kay, no guilt. You know I have none. I told you about my most recent escapade. We discussed all this."

"No, Frank, it's not that. It's not that I fucked someone," she said. "It's who I fucked."

"Who you fucked? Why should that matter?"

"It does, Frank," she said tearfully. "You don't understand."

"I don't, Kay." I said calmly. "Now settle down and help me understand. Tell me what happened. No secrets, remember."

"I don't know, Frank. I'm afraid what you might think."

"You know me better than that. I don't judge. Now tell me, Kay."

I heard her sigh. "I will," she said. "but I won't blame you if you cancel your trip here after you hear what I tell you."

"I'm sure you're overreacting, Kay. Let it out. Tell me why you are so upset. I'm listening."

And I listened to it all. You would think, based on how troubled she was on the phone, I would have been shocked at what she told me, but I wasn't. What she told me only reinforced my feelings for her. What she told me was so intimate and loving that I felt like getting on a plane for Kentucky that night, not later that week. What follows, in her words, is what she told me over the phone that night.

Each year, at the ranch where I work, we take on a number of interns; recent college graduates or graduate students who have an interest in animals, farming, breeding, etc. Some spend a month, others just a week or two. It's been a rewarding program for most of the interns. Many have gone onto to similar fields after graduating. Some years I've been assigned a few interns to work with me. Not all have worked out. Many kids just go through the motions. They can be lazy. This year there I was assigned just one. And I was lucky. He was far from lazy; a real hard worker with an amazing gift with the horses.

His name was Brock. He graduated from a Christian school in Colorado and, besides his interest in the ministry. He was shy, a bit ungainly, with glasses and traces of acne. He was also tall and broad with big shoulders and arms. I found out from him that he played football in high school and had a scholarship to the University of Colorado, but, at the last minute, decided to go to the Christian school and devote his life to God.

Like I said, he was shy, mainly around people, and myself in particular. But around the horses, he opened up. He would smile more when working with the horses, talk to them; soothe them when they were uneasy or agitated. He had a true gift; something that I guess just part of his make up. He also never hesitated to do the grunt work I assigned him; loading feed, cleaning out the stalls, shoveling shit, and even running paperwork errands for me. There was something about him; the way he went about his work and his calm demeanor that reminded me of my son, Gregory. Gregory also had a gift with animals, and tended to be shy, but not nearly as shy as this young man.

We didn't talk much beyond the work. I knew he was a Bible thumper and didn't want to get into any of that with him. He was young; hopefully the world would open his eyes a bit and wouldn't define it through the prism of religion. I would try to get him to talk at lunch. We ate everyday in my small air conditioned office. He would have a cheese sandwich, potato chips and a bottle of water...everyday the same. I teased him a little about it. He would just blush and say it was the easiest thing for him to make; that he just had a small fridge at the dorm where all the interns stayed. I asked him about his other interests, but it always got back to Christ and how he wanted to do His work, helping others in any way he can, so that usually ended any real discussion. He told me he would be going to Haiti right after his session at the ranch to work on a mission and build houses there.

He addressed me as Ma'am at first. I told him he could call me Kay, or Ms Richardson if that made him feel better. Eventually Ma'am became Ms Richardson. One day at lunch when I dropped a napkin and bent over forward to pick it up and looked up, I noticed that he had been staring at whatever cleavage was evident in my button-down blouse. I must have had a button or two open and didn't even notice. I dress very conservatively at work; mostly jeans, sweaters or long sleeve shirts because of the type of work we do. It's hard, sweaty work, far from glamorous except for when I'm doing a show. Like when you saw me the first time, Frank. Anyway, he knew I caught him and he blushed. I knew he felt bad so I said nothing about it, quickly telling him about our afternoon work schedule.

That night I thought about Brock a bit differently. There was more to him than his devotion to Christ. He was a young man made of flesh and blood and he obviously saw something that interested him to make him flush like that. After that I often caught him staring at me. He would try to hide it through his thick glasses, but I knew what he was really looking at; my breasts through my blouses; my butt, whatever he could get away with without actually gawking.

I started to think more about Brock and how much he reminded me of my son, Gregory. Gregory would be just a year or two older than Brock. When I got in bed I pictured Brock staring at my breasts. What was this shy, religious young man really thinking? My mind was going in a dangerous direction. I tossed and turned in bed. My thoughts were in a bad place and had a fitful night's sleep.

The next day when Brock arrived, I noticed things about him I had never paid any attention to. I was aware of the muscles on his back when he lifted things. I glanced at how his jeans curved over his firm butt, and how his hands were both large and gentle, especially when dealing with the horses.

We were breaking in two new warmbloods that arrived the previous day. They were both challenging, especially a gray and white beauty that had a wild temper. Brock did better controlling her than I did and that afternoon. When we were bringing them back to the stable, the gray beauty began to fight me. I held on, leading her as best I could while Brock was behind me with the other. Suddenly, the horse began to buck back at me and kick. I struggled with her reigns and then felt a strong pair of hands around my waist pulling me out of the way. With one hand, Brock held me away as he took the reigns and eventual control of the horse.

I watched as he soothed the horse, getting her under control.

"I wonder what got into her to act that way," he said to me.

"I have no idea, but you were fantastic. Thank you, Brock. She really could have hurt me," I said.

He didn't say anything, just glanced back at me with a shy look as we continued to lead the horses back to the stable. I could feel the power in his hands around my waist the rest of the afternoon. And that night I squirmed in bed again. My thoughts confused; thinking of this boy two decades younger than I. A boy who reminded me of my son. What was wrong with me? Why was I having these thoughts?

There were no other incidents in Brock's final week working with me. He might have been staring at me, but if he was, I paid it no mind.

In the past I've had the interns over for a swim and barbecue at my house as a reward for their hard work. But this year it was just Brock. Would it be right for me to just invite the young man? Why wouldn't it? He was my intern. He deserved it as much as the previous interns I had. Even more because of how hard and good his work was. And I knew he was off to Haiti to do good deeds with his church on Monday. It certainly wasn't going to be easy there.

"Brock, do you like steak?" I asked him that last Friday afternoon.

"I don't eat it much, but when I do, I like it," he said.

"I usually invite my interns over for a barbecue and steak when they finish their time working on the ranch, but this year it's just you. You've done such a great job here. What about it? Would you like that? Are you free tomorrow?"

He looked at me curiously through his thick glasses. "Um...I'm not doing anything, but I don't have a car." He said it as if he were looking for a way to get out of it.

I smiled. "You don't need a car. I'll pick you up. I know where the interns' dorms are."

He flushed a bit again. "Okay...that sounds good to me, Ms. Richardson. Should I bring anything?."

"No, hun, just yourself, your appetite and a swimsuit."

"Okay, that's easy," he said, a very small, nervous smile on his face.

I slept well that night. I had no more of those feelings. An intern was coming for a swim and a steak. It was the least I could do for his work.

Brock was waiting for me in front of the dorm. He was sitting outside in baggy shorts, a white t shirt, and sunglasses. I pulled in front, beeped and he got up and walked to the car. "All set?" I said. "It's a beautiful warm day for a swim."

"It is," he said. "Thanks again for inviting me, Ms. Richardson."

As he got into the passenger seat, I noticed him glancing at my legs. I was wearing shorts so it was the first time he would seem them exposed. They were tan, deep brown like my face and body gets from the summer sun. "It's my pleasure, Brock," I said as I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. He smiled tentatively and we drove mostly in silence the 15 minutes to my house.

When we pulled into my garage, there was loud barking and my dog, Wolf, bounded out from the back to the car. He was a Sheppard/Roti mix weighing around 150 pounds and could be very intimidating.

"That's just Wolf," I said. "Let me get out first and calm him down."

"That's okay," Brock said. "I'm not worried."

"Wait..." I tried to stop him but he opened the door and Wolf immediately stopped barking. He was quiet, sizing Brock up and then his tail wagged. Brock rubbed him under his chin and ears and that was it. They were buddies.

"I'm very impressed," I said. "He doesn't take that quickly to strangers."

"Dogs love me," he said as he continued to play with Wolf's ears and chin.

"Apparently," I said, watching amazed.

I took Brock into the house. "This is real nice, Ms. Richardson," he said, complimenting me on my kitchen and living room and then looking out toward the pool.

"Thank you, Brock. I'm very comfortable here," I said. "Why don't you change into you suit and go on out for a swim. I'll bring us some snacks."

I pointed him to a bathroom off the kitchen. He went in and I began to put together a bowl of chips and a few dips I made along with a pitcher of sweet iced tea. He came out a few moments later in his suit, his shirt still on.

"Go on out there and get in the pool," I said.

"Do you need any help?" he asked.

"None," I said. "I'll be out in a minute with the snacks."

He went out toward the pool. I watched as he took off his shirt. His back was as I thought it was; broad and knotted with muscles. He took off his sunglasses and dived in. His shoulders were also broad and as he swam, the muscles on them glistened in the sun. Watching him from the kitchen the feelings I had earlier in the week were suddenly ignited again. I told myself to get rid of them; to concentrate on being a good host. Get the boy some food.

And I did that. I put a tray together and brought it out to where Brock was sitting near the picnic table and umbrella.

"Here you go," I said. "How was the water?" I looked at him as he said in the lounge chair. His big, hairless chest was beaded with water and heaving from his swim.

"It was fantastic," he said. "Are you coming in?"

"I wasn't planning to," I said. "But it does look inviting today."

And I really wasn't planning to. I was going to let him swim. Enjoy the snacks and then barbecue him a steak before bringing him back to the dorm. Another glance at his chest and I said, "Let me go get changed. I'll be right down."

"Okay, Ms Richardson," he said, looking at me through his sunglasses while he chomped on a chip.

I went upstairs, a little nervous now. You would think after what we experienced, Frank, that nothing would make me tingle like that again. But I was tingling. And I knew it even more when I undressed and felt the moistness between my legs. Maybe it was just too long for me. Maybe it had nothing to do with anything else; that I was horny and would love a good long fuck and I was alone with a man...a young one...but one who I'm sure was capable of satisfying me. But I thought it was more than that and that's what concerned me.

Instinctively I reached for my old, dark blue one piece suit and then put it down. Like I told you, I recently bought a few bikinis; mainly to use when you visited. I had tried them on for my best friend, Pam and her daughter, Becca the previous weekend when they came over for dinner. Both were very impressed and said that you were in for a treat, Frank. I was saving them for your visit, but then wondered how Brock would react if I wore one. I shouldn't tease him or lead him on. I knew I shouldn't, but I wanted to. I wanted to see how he would react. And I was hoping he would react.

I picked out the black Wicked Weasel with the underwire top, the straps around the back of my neck and a bikini bottom so slight that I had to go and get a bikini wax for. I put it on, staring at myself in the mirror, pulling my long hair up, admiring how my copper skin looked next to the black of the suit and noticing that the outline of my nipples were clearly evident despite the black material. I thought for a moment again of changing back to my one piece, but I didn't.

I had a cover up for the bikini. It was also black with a top that tied in front along with matching shorts. I put them on and headed back down the stairs and out to the pool. Brock was still in the lounge chair eating the chips and drinking his tea.

"These dips are so good, Ms Richardson," he said as I approached the table and chairs. "I really love this salsa."

"Thank you, Brock," I said, moving in front of him and kicking off my sandals. "It's my specialty."

He looked at me, his eyes, through the sunglasses, focused on the flesh visible in the opening of the cover up including an ample view of my cleavage. He stopped chewing for a moment and took a long drink of the tea.

"It is hot out here," I said, still standing in front of Brock as he lay on the lounge chair and then untied the cover up top and slipped it off my shoulders. Without making too much of a show, I smiled at Brock as I slid the shorts off and then sat on the chair opposite him. "Are you ready for another swim?" I asked, noticing that he was sweating already.

He didn't say anything. His eyes were fixed on my body and I knew it. He looked down and away shyly.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He nodded and pulled his long legs up a bit. I saw what he was doing. He was trying to hide what was growing in his swim trunks. I couldn't help but stare at the bulge that was very apparent. He knew what I was looking at and quickly popped up out of the chair. "Yeah, I do need that swim," he blurted and jumped in, swimming to the opposite edge of the pool where, with his back to me, he held on.

I watched him as he stayed there a long time. He was obviously ashamed of what I saw. My heart went out to him and his discomfort. I never intended that. I didn't want him to feel ashamed. I never wanted to hurt him in any way. But I also was equally aroused. That just the sight of my bikini-clad body could induce such a reaction was an incredible turn on to me. I didn't know what I should do. There was a combination of motherly instinct to comfort along with high sexual tension. The sensation was totally unique and it was making me light headed.

I don't know if I ever really made a decision to do what I was going to do. It was almost as if someone else was pulling my strings, getting me up off the chair in into the pool. Swimming to him. Wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my body into that broad back.

"Oh, baby, please don't feel bad," I said up into his ear. "It's a compliment. Really it is. I'm very flattered."

"I'm so weak," he said, his voice wavering. "I have no control. God help me."

"No, you aren't weak. You're a man," I whispered near his ear. "You're made of flesh and blood. You have needs."

He shook his head. "No. A stronger man would resist these temptations. A man closer to God would not have this happen. I'm a weak failure."

"There is nothing wrong here, Brock," I whispered again, my warm breath in his ear. "I'm a single woman with my own needs. You are a single man. And I know you have needs too. The consent is mutual." With that I let my fingers move over his flat belly to the waist band of his swim trunks. "At least it is for me. Is it for you, Brock?"

"Ms Richardson..." he groaned. "I...this has to be wrong."

"What's wrong?" I asked. "That you find me attractive? That I'm much older than you? That you want what we both want?"

"Yes...all of that. It's not meant to be like this. It's not love..."

"In a way it is love. Not the love between a husband and wife, but the mutual pleasure is a loving thing. It's not wrong, Brock," I said, this time my mouth on his ear, my tongue teasing around the lobe while my hand reached lower, circling over his growing girth and squeezing lightly. "And I know you know it."

"Ohhh god," he groaned again. "I...I do...yes...I do know it." And then he turned around, the tip of his hard cock jabbing into my thigh, looking at me with those deep blue eyes.

"Oh, honey, it's okay. It's all going to be all right," I said and took his hand in mine. "I led him to the shady part of the pool. "Sit up here for me."

He pulled himself up and sat at the edge of the pool while I remained in the water. I smiled up at him and moved my hands to the waist band of his trunks and tugged them down and off. His cock sprung out, already fully erect, long and thin surrounded by tufts of very light brown hair.

"Oh it's beautiful, Brock," I said of his cock. "And so big and long." My hands were on his muscular thighs moving up and down. I bent my head lower and flicked my tongue around the head of his cock making slow circles on it. I glanced to see Brock's eyes flutter and heard him moan. I moved my hand to the base of his cock while my tongue continued to flutter on the head and then I felt it jerk and Brock moaned again as a wad of thick cum shot out over my face, covering my cheeks and chin.