Sarah Lynn - A Real Southern Lady

Note: After spending that wonderful day with Patricia Neighbors that I shared with you in my last story, I soon found myself watching and fantasizing about white women like never before. I couldn't bring myself to ask them out, but they were never far from my thoughts. Even when I would be on a date with a black woman I was always thinking and dreaming of the white ladies. Especially wives and mothers in their thirties and forties. That is what Patricia had done to me. It had been months since our day together but I swear I could still smell her beside me. Many times I took my cock in hand and stroked it furiously to climax while remembering that wonderful woman's sights and sounds, and the incredible softness of her pale skin. I soon realized that I would never be the same, and ultimately I stopped even looking at black women, much less dating them. Not long after that I moved to Atlanta pursuing a job opportunity. This story is about what happened following that move.

Atlanta was a big place, and it sprawled out over miles and miles. I remember thinking that I'd never learn my way around that town. But I had decided against my family's wishes to move there, so I was determined to make the best of it. It wasn't long before I knew most of the main roads and could find my way from place to place without much of a hassle. And within a couple of months I was able to move out of Joey's house and get a pretty nice place of my own.

Joey was the friend from high school who had offered me the job. He had started his own landscaping business after moving there with his new wife. He and Darla had met and fell in love while away at college. She was from there originally, and Joey liked the idea of moving south. Plus, her folks had some money. They were willing to help finance the young couple's business idea, if their daughter and her new husband would just agree to come to Atlanta. They had been there about a year and things seemed to be going well.

Anyway, Joey and I had been the best of friends since we were ten years old. We stayed in touch after high school and he eventually talked me into moving to Atlanta. He needed someone he could trust to help him with his burgeoning business. And I needed an opportunity and some direction in my life. He wanted me to run his three yard crews, and work to keep his existing customers happy while he pursued commercial accounts. I was young and unattached, and I liked the idea of being in charge. So, I thought, what the hell? But looking back now, I know that the prospect of dealing with all of those lonely white housewives while their husbands were off making a living, that's what truly pulled me south.

I had been on the job for about two months when Joey approached me about taking on an extra responsibility. He was a little hesitant about asking me at first. Up until then my job had been primarily managerial, and some public relations. Every once in awhile I would chip in and help one of the crews if they got behind. Even sometimes when they weren't. I was looking for ways to gain their trust and loyalty, and I thought a little manual labor along side them might go a long way. Anyway like I said, Joey approached me about taking on a new customer by myself. It was a small yard that really didn't warrant a full crew. I think he thought I might be offended, but I actually welcomed the opportunity to take off my shirt and get a little dirty. So it was decided that I would add this new customer to my weekly schedule.

"Just work them in every 7 to 10 days," Joey instructed. "Here's the address. The name is Williamson. Claude and Sarah, I think. Let me know how this first time goes."

The house was on the edge of town. It was an older home, with all the southern amenities. A white picket fence and a wrap-around porch complete with rockers and a bench swing. All of it shaded and littered by a huge magnolia. I remember thinking the only thing missing was a lawn jockey. The entire neighborhood had an old south feel to it, but the Williamson's place stood out among the others. I went straight to the front door and knocked loudly, half expecting to see a big black mammy answer the door. Boy was I ever wrong.

Instead, a lovely white woman somewhere in her forties opened the door slowly and then a little hesitantly when she saw me standing there. She looked me over quickly, without expression. She wasn't rude about it; she just seemed like someone surprised to see a young black man standing on his or her porch. She started to close the door a little bit when I noticed she looked past me, to my truck. When she saw the mower and lawn equipment there, her expression started to relax and soften.

"Yeah that's right, you're safe," I thought to myself. "The big bad black man's not gonna rape you."

I watched as she flipped back the hook on the inside of the screen door. She still seemed a little hesitant. She slowly pushed the door open, and allowed her eyes to meet mine briefly. Her eyes were kind for sure, but so cautious. I immediately felt like a heel for my initial reaction.

"You're from the lawn company," she said softly, while extending her hand to me. "I'm Sarah Williamson."

I reached to shake her hand, but she just laid it lightly across the top of mine. She did that so ladylike, for a split-second I actually considered placing a small kiss on it. I refrained, and instead just held it gently for a moment.

"Yes Ma'am, that's right. Here to take care of the yard, if you'd like," as I lowered her hand slowly, allowing it eventually to fall back at her side.

I could see her expression brighten immediately in response to my politeness. It was very obvious that good manners meant more than just a little to her. Though she still had to fight to look me in the eye, I could tell my polite words had put her somewhat at ease. But there was still a shyness to this woman, or more of just a reserved nature. A hesitancy, if you will. She reminded me of a small pup that had been scolded recently.

There was something about her that made me want to comfort her somehow.

"Well, yes," she continued while gathering her thoughts. "What do you need to get started? I think my husband has already spoken with someone about what we need. Is that right?"

"Oh, yes Ma'am. No problem, I know what to do. I just wanted to let you know I was here, and introduce myself."

She smiled genuinely, with a slight look of puzzlement. It was like she was surprised I would take the time to let her know that. Like she wasn't used to anyone considering what she might like to know.

"Well thank you young man," her smile growing just a bit as she turned those shy eyes upward. "But you didn't introduce yourself," she reminded me through the faintest of giggles.

"John.....I'm John Tatum," I offered, strangely embarrassed by my oversight.

"OK John. Well then, it's good to meet you John. You be careful out there. That sun is no friend of ours today. Let me know if you get thirsty and we'll get you some cold water, or iced tea if you prefer."

"Oh, yes Ma'am. I'll be fine, not to worry. And thank you."

Stepping back in the house, she started to close the door behind her. Just before she was out of sight, she again let her eyes drift upward to mine. She was such a mysteriously cautious woman, and it was hard to put a finger on her nature, it was so fleeting. One thing for sure though, she had an affect on this young man.

At first I had simply thought that she was a somewhat attractive white woman. But during our brief time together on her front porch I became aware of her complete beauty. Her clothes had concealed and camouflaged it in the beginning. She was dressed conservatively in a gray house dress. Her hair was up off of her neck, not exactly in a bun, but definitely up and out of the way. Her shoes were dark and near unnoticeable. She wore only the daintiest of jewelry. Her make-up almost not there, but at the same time perfect. Everything about this woman said not to look at her, but the longer I was with her the more I had to look. In fact, I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

But it wasn't just a physical thing. Or I should say, it wasn't just her physical features. To be sure, they were all exquisite in their own way. Her eyes, skin, mouth, hair, figure were all enough to make a man straighten up and take note. But it was more than that. It was the total package, and her incredibly unique nature. She was so beautiful. So cautious. So reserved. So feminine. By the time I walked off of her porch I wanted to protect her from the outside world, and to take her sexually all at once. I guess her initial reaction to me had been an accurate one.

That was all that was said between us on my first visit, except for when she brought me a tall glass of ice tea while I cut the yard. She watched me drink the entire glass without pause, and she smiled, amazed at my degree of thirst.

"Well John, I guess that I timed that just about right," she giggled lightly.

"Yes Ma'am, right on time and just what the doctor ordered." Her shy giggle made me smile too.

And then she was gone back into her house. I watched her the entire way to the door. Her walk was just like her. Quiet, reserved; nothing flamboyant, yet something so feminine and so sexy. I determined she must be somewhere in her late thirties or early forties. She was very conservative in her dress. She was reserved and shy in her mannerisms. She had done absolutely nothing to encourage me, yet she was slowly driving me crazy. I had never, nor have I since, known a woman quite like Sarah Lynn Williamson.

Over the next month and a half I thought about her almost constantly. As I continued caring for her lawn we got to know each other a little better. Our conversations were friendly and always polite. I also came to understand her shy nature a bit more after being around her husband on a few occasions. He was a large, gruff man, who didn't treat her particularly well. He was loud and rude, the exact opposite of her. I came to understand that she seemed embarrassed by him at times. And maybe a little scared of him as well. I hated him almost immediately, especially when I witnessed him treating her badly.

After seeing him come home late afternoon a few times I started going to care for Sarah's yard earlier in the day. That way I didn't have to see him, and I also noticed she was more at ease around me when she knew he wouldn't be home anytime soon. She started bringing me tea or water at least twice while I cut the yard, and after 3 or 4 more weeks she asked me to stay for lunch once I was finished. That seemed a little odd to me at first, and maybe a bit forward, but our conversation during those lunches never veered far from the polite and the innocuous. I never picked up on anything behind her shy smile other than a sweet, genuine woman who seemed a little lonely. There were a couple of times that I looked toward the house while cutting the yard and noticed what looked to be her shadow behind the drapes of the living room. I wondered if she had been watching me, but other than that I had no reason to believe she was the least bit interested in me. That all changed one Wednesday when I showed up a little early.

After about a month Sarah Lynn had taken to coming out of her house and waving at me politely once she heard the lawnmower, but not on this day. Instead she only cracked the door long enough to look my way and wave, closing the door as quickly as she had opened it. But after just a few minutes she brought me a glass of water. This was strange since I had barely even started cutting the yard. She was still in her nightgown and it was obvious she had been crying. She forced herself to look up through reddened eyes, and flashed a pained smile my way. I watched as she turned and walked back to the house without a word.

I didn't know what to do, but I wanted to try to comfort her somehow. I wondered if it would be crossing a line if I were to ask what was wrong. Although we'd shared a few meals together, we had not talked about our personal lives very much during those lunches. Could it be considered prying if I were to just ask if she was OK? I thought about her bringing me the water in her nightgown and decided that maybe she wanted to talk about whatever it was that was bothering her, and so, I headed for the front door.

"Yes John, what can I do for you? More water?" she asked in her normal polite way once she had reached the door.

"Uh well.....I was just wondering......" I stammered, searching for the words. "The thing is Mrs. Williamson, you looked pretty upset about something this morning......and before I cut the yard I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Oh my.....Is it that obvious?" she asked apologetically.

"No, it's not that exactly.....but," I stammered again. "It's just that.....well, yes.....I could tell something is wrong."

She looked me as directly in the eye as she ever had and smiled a thankful smile. "You're so sweet for asking," she continued without pause. "I've told several of my friends that you are one of the kindest people I know. Always the gentleman, to be so young. And now I know that I certainly wasn't wrong."

"Well thank you for saying that Mrs. Will......."

"And that's another thing," she interrupted, "don't you think you could call me Sarah Lynn at this point?" The sadness from a while ago had cleared from her eyes a bit, and now she smiled up at me not so shyly.

"Uh, yes. Yes Ma'am, I guess I could," I said through a nervous chuckle, a little embarrassed by my excessive formality.

"Good John, that would make me very happy," she assured me, as she touched my arm lightly. It felt good, and made me strangely proud that I could make her happy.

"Are you OK, Sarah Lynn?" returning to the reason I had come to her door.

Almost immediately I could see the cloudiness return to her expression. Her shyness returned as she lowered her head, but at the same time she moved closer, right up next to me. She started to speak but instead looked up to me through pleading eyes. She softly laid her head against my chest, watching my face closely for any sign of disapproval. Simultaneously, she brought her hands up and laid them at my chest as well, on either side and just below her head. Reflexively, I felt my arms rise up to embrace her. It felt so good to hold her. It felt so right.

She sighed lightly and fell against me even more, momentarily. Suddenly though she tensed and looked around at the neighboring homes, remembering that we stood at her front door.

"Come in John, please," she instructed. "I don't want the neighbors to get the wrong idea."

"No, we wouldn't want that," I agreed, though not really caring about the neighbors at that moment. But I understood her feeling that way.

Over the next half-hour she told me about her flawed marriage and her abusive husband. When he talked to her at all, it was almost always in a harsh, demeaning tone, she explained. She was most sad because she felt trapped, not having ever been in the workforce and always being the housewife and mother. I was surprised to learn she was actually 52 years old and had raised three children in this house. I remember the fact that she was 52 with three grown children really staggered me, and I briefly had trouble focusing on what she was saying to me. I kept thinking it wasn't possible because she was so incredibly sexy. I kept wondering how she could still be so voluptuous after all that. It made me concentrate on her beauty even more than normal. That is probably why I responded the way I did when she told me that her husband never complimented her anymore, and that he wasn't interested in sex at all.

"Is he fucking dead?" I blurted out, covering my mouth as soon as I had said it. "Oh my God, Sarah I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to......"

Her look was one of complete shock at first, but almost as quickly she smiled and then began to giggle at my unfiltered reaction. There was gratitude in her eyes as well, because she knew exactly why I had reacted that way. Now she knew how attracted I was to her, and it made her happy. She was so taken and moved by my outburst that she momentarily overcame her timidity and walked over to where I was standing. She looked up at me in a thankful way and laid her head on my chest once again. This time I wrapped my arms around her immediately and held her tight against me. This time she let her hands find their way around my back, as they locked together tightly at my waist. This time there were no neighbors to be concerned with. This time we were inside. This time it was all right.

"Thank you, John. Thank you so much for that......and for just listening to me."

Before I could respond, she lifted her head from my chest and looked up at me. She didn't look me in the eye. Instead she was watching my mouth, waiting for what I might say. But she didn't want any words from me. She wanted me to kiss her, for she kept watching my lips and slowly raised up on her toes bringing her face close to mine. When she was within inches of my mouth, she allowed her eyes to meet mine just for a split second. She turned her gaze once again to my lips, waiting. I moved to her and gave her a kiss so tender that our lips barely touched. Again I touched her lips with mine ever so lightly, but this time I traced her upper lip with the tip of my tongue just before parting. I heard a tiny whimper escape her lips before I returned to kiss her more forcefully. Soon we were kissing passionately right there in the middle of her living room.

Kissing Sarah Lynn was like nothing I had ever experienced during my young life. Her kisses were passionate and they enflamed my desire for her to extreme heights, but they were always gentle and incredibly soft. It's hard to describe but they were just like her; quiet, reserved, gentle, and unbelievably sexy. They made me want to be just as gentle with her, in return. Being that consumed with lust I would have normally been tearing at the woman's clothing, but not with her. Instead, I chose to let her set the pace and lead the way. I soon learned that she made love exactly the same way. It was without a doubt the most quietly explosive experience of my life.

She started by lightly tracing my back with her fingers and fingernails inside of my shirt while we continued kissing. I made the next move by cupping her ample breast in my hand and rolling the fabric-covered nipple softly between my thumb and forefinger. Moving her mouth to my ear so that I might hear her quiet sounds of pleasure, she soon cupped the back of my head and pulled it gently to her breast, wanting me to replace my fingers with my lips.

I obliged, and rolled the same nipple over and over again between my lips. I nibbled and bit it gently, making the fabric wet with my saliva. Next she pushed her nightgown aside, exposing the same nipple to full view. It was red and swollen from the attention it had been receiving. When I sucked it between my lips, she held my head tight against her tit and lowered her face to my ear. I could hear her breathing increase as I bit and sucked gently, and I enjoyed a chorus of muffled moans and sighs in my ear. She began kissing and nibbling at my ear in much the same way I kissed and sucked on her erect nipple. She reached and pulled her nightgown from her other shoulder exposing both of her breasts now. She was gorgeous standing there with the gown gathered at the bend in her arms. Her forty-something breasts were really magnificent. Large and natural, they hung firmly in place and were without a doubt the definition of soft. I placed my face squarely between them and looked up at her to show my appreciation. She smiled back at me through hazy eyes, but looked away quickly, as was her shy nature.