The day I decided to break out of my usual routine and take a little journey changed my life in a surprising way. I've lived a pretty quiet life since I retired from teaching to give myself more time to write historical novels for young people. I have a contract with a publisher to produce one or two books a year based on some historical event or famous person. I do the research by reading two or three books, sometimes, though rarely, I travel to a place to get a sense of the area where an event happened, but mostly I stay put in my little cabin. You could set your clock by my routine. I get up at five every morning, drink a cup of coffee then get down to work. I take a little break at nine, make two sunny side eggs with rye toast, another cup of coffee and get back to work. I rarely work past noon and spend my afternoons reading, working in the garden or taking long walks. It's a pretty solitary existence.
I had just finished the first draft of a novel about the Revolutionary War and a boy who was an aid to George Washington. The boy was a spy and, like most of my books, is an adventure story where I work in a lot of historical information. It was October and the leaves were at their peak of color, when this strange feeling came over me. I looked up at the clear blue sky above the red and orange leaves of the trees surrounding my cabin. I noticed leaves falling to the ground and suddenly started thinking of getting old and closer to death. "Am I like those leaves fluttering to the ground?" I thought. Without articulating what I was feeling as I looked out the window of my cabin, I said, "I need to get a way from here for awhile."
This restless feeling surprised me. I don't usually like to take trips. I love my quiet little world in the Maine woods and remembered Thoreau's statement when he was at Walden, "I've traveled wide and far at Walden."
I'm still not sure what came over me as I watched the colorful leaves falling, but a strange restlessness urged me to get away, like something calling me. I took a deep breath that became a deep sigh. "I need an adventure. I need to let go and leave my cares behind me." I looked around my cabin. "I'm in a rut," I said to myself. "I need to go somewhere new, where no one knows me and just let loose."
I decided to be spontaneous for a change and just take off. I watered the plants, put some things in a backpack, got in my old Subaru and went off without any destination. I decided to stay on back roads, turning left when an interesting looking road appeared or right when another road caught my attention. I just kept driving, and actually driving faster than I usually do. This was so unlike me. I had no plan, no map and didn't care where I ended up.
At fifty-five years old, after doing what was expected, getting married out of college, having two daughters, now grown, teaching at the same school for twenty years, coming home every day to a dying marriage and finally divorcing, I was weary of the plainness and safety of my life. I wanted the unknown, the passion of uncertainty, the freedom of not caring. I wanted surprise and adventure.
I was traveling west over narrow bumpy roads, past farms, then through thick woods with the colorful leaves of fall blazing all around me. I had been driving for over three hours and realized I was getting hungry. It was about four in the afternoon. I was far from any restaurants when I noticed a small farm stand ahead. I was surprised to see it because there didn't seem to be much traffic on the road.
I decided to stop and get some fruit. When I pulled over, I noticed a woman sitting in a folding chair, reading a book. As I approached the stand, she looked up and smiled at me and said, "Hi there."
When she got out of her chair and walked over, I was stunned by how gorgeous she was. She had long wild auburn hair that went halfway down her back. She wore tight blue jean cut offs and a low cut orange shirt that barely contained her large tits. She was tan and had a thin waist, wide hips, long legs, a pretty face with high cheek bones and a radiant smile. I certainly didn't expect to see someone so sexy at a fruit stand in the middle of nowhere. I tried not to look at her but found that impossible. "What a body," I thought to myself as I looked at the variety of fruit and vegetables on the table.
"Nice apples," I said, glancing at her tits, then back at the apples.
"Thanks," she said. "I just picked them this morning," she added.
"How much are they?" I asked, trying not to look at the cleavage revealed by her low cut shirt. "She's really built," I thought to myself, looking at the apples.
"Fifty cents each," she said.
"I'll take two of them," I said. I then looked around at the farm and saw the barn about fifty yards in back of her and over to the left, not far from the edge of the road, a white farm house with a wrap around front porch. I noticed a small sign, "Maggie's Farm." I couldn't help but think of the Bob Dylan song.
"Is this your farm?" I asked.
"Kind of," she answered. "Actually, it's my ex-husbands and mine. We're squabbling over it right now."
"I see," I said.
She picked up a paper bag and put the apples in it. I handed her the dollar.
"Nice place," I said as I took the bag, still trying to keep my eyes off of her tits. "Do you live here alone?"
"Yes," she said. "I've got some help with the farm from Dad and some neighbors. He's got a farm down the road, but mostly I keep up with everything and make do between the farm stand and my waitress job in town."
"You must work hard," I said. Just then she bent down to pick up a paper bag she dropped. She turned around and I saw her round ass barely contained by her tight cut offs. She put the paper bag back on the table. Her tits were spilling out of her tight low cut orange shirt. When she stood up, she caught me looking at her tits. Our eyes met and she smiled, but didn't say anything. I was getting aroused looking at her and felt my cock getting big and hard.
There was an awkward silence as we both looked at each other. "Would you like anything else?" she asked, smiling slightly. I wasn't certain but the way she looked at me and smiled made me think she was flirting with me—something that never happens. She kept her eyes on mine, smiling.
It was impossible not to look at her tits and the nipples pushing against her tight shirt. "See something you like," she asked and smiled, looking me in the eyes. I looked down at the table quickly, embarrassed to be caught gawking at her tits.
"What would you recommend?" I asked, concentrating on the variety of produce on the table, trying not to look at this sexy woman. I felt my cock bulging in my jeans.
"Well," she paused, "let me see." She leaned over the table and picked up a large peach. While reaching, her tits practically fell out of her shirt. She looked up at me then at the bulge in my jeans which I tried to hide with my bag of apples. She held out the peach. "I bet you would like to eat something wet and juicy," she said, smiling, looking me in the eyes and then back down at my bag covered crotch.
I could not believe what was happening to me. I was out of my comfort zone. "Is she teasing me?" I wondered, baffled by her words and the way she looked at me.
"I'll take the peach," I said, trying to keep the conversation on the topic of fruit.
She leaned forward with the peach in her hand. "Here, open the bag and I'll treat you to a peach," she said.
I held out the bag and she dropped in the peach, but I know she saw the tent in my jeans. There was no way to hide what was happening to me.
"I'll pay you for the peach," I said, trying not to look at the nipples poking out of her tight shirt. I was looking at her smiling face and said, "By the way, you have a nice smile." "Well, thank you mister. You have a nice smile, too," she said.
"Really," I said, surprised. "Oh, thank you," I added, feeling awkward. I couldn't remember the last time I had a conversation like this with a woman, let alone a sexy woman. I wanted this interaction to continue but no words came to my mind. The words, "eat something wet and juicy," went through my mind. "Was she being suggestive or was I reading something into it?"
We just stood there looking at each other.
"It must be hard keeping a farm like this going all by your self," I said.
"It is, but the work isn't the hard part." she said. "It's after work that's hard. It's going into the house and not having a man around."
