On The Banks of The Ohio Trilogy
Memories, both fond and otherwise, can be recalled by the least expected of external stimuli. A snatch of conversation, the scent of a Spring blossom, a few bars of a tune long since in vogue. Many things.
So it was last week whilst queued-up in suffocating heat, waiting to board the Euro Tunnel train back to Britain last summer, that my glance fell upon one of the uniformed young women, directing cars aboard the upper deck of the lead carriage.
Admiring her quite obviously youthful figure as we inched our way along the platform, I had almost drawn level with her, when she turned towards me, holding up one hand to indicate we should stop, before they commenced loading the lower deck. No more than six feet from me now, it was all I could do to suppress a cry of disbelief. The same cheeky face, shoulder-length blonde hair and fine yet quite prominent eyebrows. Even with the realization that it wasn’t her, my mind nevertheless replayed scenes from that hot summer interlude not so many years ago.
Having by necessity to attend a business seminar in Cincinnati mid July that year and with a week or so to kill before flying on to join a marketing delegation in New York, I decided to “discover” Ohio, heading east along highway 52 in the general direction of Portsmouth then north to Columbus and east to Youngstown via Pittsburgh PV. The plan was good, the reality something else.
Just twenty miles out from Cincinnati, New Richmond typifies small-town America. The quaintest of villages and with a population just pre the new millennium, of barely 2200 people including just five permanently stationed Police officers, lets just say that rush-hour had yet to prove an issue.
Peckish, having passed-up on breakfast, I decided this was as good a spot as any to indulge my stomach lining. Pulling off the Interstate that runs pretty much through the town center, I cruised a couple of side-streets until a cute little eatery called “The Landing” took my fancy on Front Street.
Devoid of customers, I had the pick of the table settings and chose one set in to a small niche near the panoramic window that overlooked Front Street itself. Clean and bright, “The Landing” was quite obviously a family business to judge by the many framed photographs around the wall. I was studying one that might well have been the building itself at the turn of the century, when a glass and jug of iced water were set down in front of me, by the most appealing of young ladies.
“Can I get you something?” she smiled sweetly, those finely shaped dark eyebrows suggesting that perhaps the shoulder-length, rather pretty blonde hair was not her natural birthright, not that this could ever have detracted from the overall package you understand. The only thing I wanted her to get me right that second was a room we might share across the way at the small cottage that I noted was advertising itself as a bed and breakfast stop-over. I noticed the name-tag just above the curve of her right breast. What I would have given to be that pin!
“Well Amy,” I said, “A plate of hotcakes and coffee might just about hit the spot.”
She scribbled the order down on her pad and handed me another of those smiles that all but closed down my options for thinking straight. “Sure,” she added, turning on her heels and thereby presenting me with a highly therapeutic aspect of her shapely little bottom, covered that it was unfortunately, by a tight skirt whose hemline one imagines, might in later years, dredge-up more victims than a Venus fly trap!
In her absence, I glanced once more at the many prints on display on the far wall also. One in particular stood out. Quite obviously a very recent picture of Amy herself, the girl slumped prettily in the chair, her legs draped over one arm. Dressed in her school uniform, the pose bridged the gap between innocence and provocative tease quite effortlessly. The top few buttons of her plain white blouse were undone allowing the material to gape slightly – if not suggestively then interestingly at least. The close proximity of her delicate fingers handed one the impression that given the right script, she might be persuaded to undo a couple more. The tease-factor was heightened further in as much as her black and white check skirt exposed a sufficiency of the underside of both slim legs at that angle, so that in normal circumstances her panties would have been acutely visible, were not it for the winter cotton leggings she was wearing in the photo and which left the viewer simply to contemplate what might have been. Shoe-less and with one leg resting demurely across the other, she was an angel.
I was still pondering that which was hidden when my hot-cakes made an appearance.
“Maple syrup?” she asked politely, proffering the easy-pour container on the tray she was holding.
“Oh yeah!” I replied. “What would hotcakes be without maple syrup?”
. “You’re not American are you?” she drawled. “Kind of a cute accent though…are you English?”
“Sorta,” I answered, more than happy to engage her in whatever conversation was on offer. “Australian actually Amy – well, I was born in Britain but have lived in Sydney, Australia since I was eighteen.”
Right at that moment another family walked in, totally icing the momentum and sat down at the table opposite. I had the impression Amy’s preference was to stay and chat, though she muttered dutifully, “I’d better go get those people a menu.” I could have watched that curvy retreat until those hotcakes were stone cold!
The arrival of my coffee presented one last small window of opportunity. Gazing outside, I made the comment that I might take a stroll down to the Ohio river and check out the scenery, it appearing to be little more than a shortish walk from the restaurant itself.
“Rivers up again,” she said, following my glance and looking quite concerned. “Flooded so bad last year – way up Front street, she gestured up towards Quarry Street and the Interstate. “Its soo beautiful though,” she added as an afterthought, “There’s this real neat lookout just a-ways upriver – you can see for miles across the Kentucky flatlands.”
So pretty was she at that moment, my heart ached for her and I yearned to hold her to me, fully oblivious to the chronic age-difference and the fact that she was probably no more than a few years older than my youngest daughter.
“I’d really like to see it Amy,” I told her, “But I really don’t have the time to go looking. Maybe next time I’m through this way?” Even as I spoke the words I felt their emptiness. Reality dictated that I would in all probability, never set foot in New Richmond again. For the merest fraction of a second, she looked at me…deep inside.
“I’m off at twelve,” she whispered, “I could show you!”
Hardly able to believe what she was saying, I must have looked like a tongue-tied juvenile. I glanced at my watch – it was already 10.50. “I’d be honored sweetie,” I replied. “Want me to pick you up kerbside?” She nodded just as a slightly embittered male voice called out “You gonna take our order Miss or what?” Obviously embarrassed, she left the table.
By the time I finished my coffee and settled-up the bill including a healthy tip, there was but fifty minutes or so to account for. I figured I would go fill up the rental car and check out a few of the shops along Main Street.
Even as I pulled the Pontiac over, right outside “The Landing,” Amy had stepped out on to the sidewalk and was walking to the car. I leaned across and opened the passenger door. Sliding onto the bench seat in that ultra-short skirt did wonders for the visuals. I don’t think she even realised. Having changed into smart casual clothes, she was a total teenage dream. Whatever delicate scent that was also, merely heightened the overall effect. Thank God I had taken out full travel health insurance.
“So, which way sweetheart?” I asked, forcing my eyes back on the roadway as opposed to allowing them their natural inclination of focusing at key points along those wonderfully slim legs.
“Ohh, back that way,” she exclaimed, pointing east along Front Street. I performed a quick u-turn, which in the total absence of any traffic was anything but a challenge.
“How old are you Amy?” I asked, trying not to make it sound overly intrusive.
“I’ve just turned seventeen,” she barely whispered, but then blushing momentarily as I glanced across at her, “I hope you don’t think I make a habit of doing this er,…”
“Noel” I smiled…”and no…I’m sure you don’t Amy. I would like to ask you just one question though if I may.”
“What’s that?” she replied softly.
“I’m just curious why you decided to make that offer to me sweetie? You’re very young and it’s taking a big risk. I’m sure your parents would not approve.”
Now she really was blushing. “I don’t honestly know,” she muttered. “Something about you. I knew I’d be safe and I just wanted to take you there and show you the river.”
I smiled at her once again. “Well your instincts serve you well Amy. Yes you are safe – well unless I stop taking my medication that is!” She giggled delightfully.
“To be honest,” I continued, I have three lovely daughters at home just like you sweetheart. One thirteen, another fourteen and the eldest just about your age. She’s in tenth grade, same as you I’m guessing?”
Amy nodded, before asking “No boys?”
“Yep, one of them too,” I grinned. “Chris is the eldest. He’s nineteen and just finished High School.
We were now at the end of Front street and crossing over to Susanna Way.
“We follow this road right to the end,” she announced, “Then I’ll show you where the lookout is.”
“Sounds good,” I replied, easing my foot off the gas. It’s remarkably easy to hit fifty on an empty straight road. Well as it happened, Amy really didn’t have to direct me to the lookout at all, since Susanna Way comes to an abrupt end before veering north into Augustus Street. Right at that point a spur road leads south almost to the river’s edge. To the right a rather attractive lookout has been built up in a lightly treed area which obviously affords welcome relief mid-summer. Nosing-in to the deserted parking area, I killed the motor. I could see why she had brought me here.
The sun glinted off the Ohio, and beyond as Amy had said, the gentle Kentucky plains stretched as far as the eye could see. A gentle heat-haze wavered marginally above ground level, imperceptibly distorting one’s vision of the flatlands the far side of the river. One or two private boats were navigating their way east, adding to the scenic tranquility.
“It’s very beautiful here Amy,” I muttered, knowing that this was an understatement of some magnitude. She looked across at me and with no reason for doing so – I held out my hand to her. Having equally no reason to take it, she grasped my hand softly and I pulled her to me.
Words became superfluous, the age difference merely a statistic. I had always been going to kiss her, right from the moment I walked into that restaurant. I think I knew it even then. The moment our lips met I knew I was safe. Shielded from the harshness and cruelties that life deals out, Amy was sanctuary. She may have been only seventeen, but it was I felt the child. She returned my kisses with a gentle passion all her own, held me tightly and murmured softly as I ran my fingers through her hair whilst caressing her gently as might the unselfish lover.
Hot morning that it was, her warmth infiltrated my whole being. I needed her and wanted her above all things but this I knew had to be on her terms only. Simply holding and kissing her was an experience to savor, a privilege to appreciate, the rarest of check-points in the game of life itself. Just for a moment she broke off from kissing me and looked up, her eyes – part promising, part pleading….wholly needful.
My left hand closed around her small yet incredibly soft and yielding breast. Immediately her eyes glazed over and she let out an involuntary cry of surprise. I kissed once more that delicate little open mouth through which breath so fresh was issuing, in time with her increased respiratory rate. For several moments I continued fondling her gently, knowing full well she had never done this before and that some facet of her biological clock had told her that today was her day of learning.
Easing my hand across to her other breast, I began manipulating the nipple through the thin cotton top she had on. Whether she realised it or not I could detect a slight forward thrusting of both breasts as she became more at ease with my ministrations. The occasional whimper of pleasure was beginning to escape her lips and at the point I began undoing the top few buttons of her blouse, she merely lay back against the seat, watching my progress as one might observe a spider weaving its artistry.
Inclining my head towards her now fully exposed bra cups, I kissed the softness beneath, aware of the sharp intake of breath as she became aware, probably for the first time, the power inherent in her feminine birthright. She was just so beautiful. Kissing her once more on the lips, I allowed my hand to slip inside her bra, feeling its exquisitely designed contents and deliberately passing my fingers across her nipple. Her eyes opened wide, but she made no attempt to restrict my exploration – even when I slipped my hand inside the other cup, gently manipulating that delicate bud between my thumb and forefinger.
That she was small, even by teenage standards was nothing but an added attraction for me. Maintaining steady eye contact with her, which I sensed was reinforcing both her trust and my unspoken intentions to cause her no discomfort – real or metaphysical, I eased both shoulder straps down her arms, gently lowering the silky material until both curvy little breasts were fully exposed. Momentarily she looked so vulnerable. I admired her brave resolve in a situation quite obviously foreign to her and one that a very young girl has no real control of.
I was mesmerized myself. Those wonderfully sculptured mounds of youthful femininity lay proudly displayed before me. Leaning forwards, I kissed her right breast softly, as with my free hand I caressed her the other side. It was at the point my lips drew down on her nipple that first time that I felt, rather than heard, her whimper softly. Raising her arms she held me to her, as I suckled her nipples one after the other. Her eyes closed now, she thrust her breasts out proudly, imploring me to suck harder which as it just so happened, dove-tailed with my own agenda.
How long we engaged in that wonderful closeness I couldn’t say, but inevitably, desire and accumulated hormonal back-up opened the flood-gates. Still sucking gently on her nipples as she lay back against the seat smiling dreamily, my hand sought the warmth of a quite different locale. Sliding the hemline of her skirt up beyond the realms of modesty, I slipped my hand between her legs feeling the softness of her inner thighs and the latent heat that resided there. Amy gave a cry of probable genuine girlish shock and murmured “Noo not there please…I’m still a virgin.”
Her words however were fully contradicted by her body language which saw her part her legs marginally and she begin to kiss me with what I could only describe as an increased passion. Again, my hand sought refuge in that reclusive tunnel and at the point the tips of my fingers reached the front of her panties, she started to breathe hard. Rubbing her there softly she began to moan, needing me to kiss her harder and quite obviously requiring my complicity in whatever was to follow.
Seemingly acclimatized to sitting there topless now, she even whispered softly “Do you really think I’m pretty?” It was as dumb a question as ever I have been asked.
“I doubt there is a prettier or more desirable girl on this planet right this second sweetheart,” I assured her. It was the undoubted truth.
Beginning now to rub her the full length of her pussy, albeit through those skimpy little white-lace panties that were even now peeking out from beneath her rumpled skirt, Amy’s soft cries of pleasure were escalating. There was only one option indicated.
Slipping a finger up beneath the elastic I discovered a warm and well-furred terrain that curved down and inwards to an ingress of near volcanic heat that on approach, caused its owner to wriggle perceptibly while whimpering in what may have been semi-embarrassed pleasure. I certainly wasn’t embarrassed!
“No one’s ever done this to me,” she whispered between little gasps. I already suspected as much but was pleased beyond measure to hear her confirmation of such. Incredibly tight as you might imagine, I was only able to get a finger inside her with due patience and diligence. It was worth it though. I couldn’t rightly say how pleasurable it was for her but from my perspective it was at the upper end of Nirvana.
When fingering a young girl of existing virginal status, there is a fine line indeed between pain and pleasure – your pleasure, her pain!. It is very important to ensure that she is as relaxed as possible and that you treat her nether regions as you might a Ming vase – with respect and gentility. Amy as it turned out was a Grade A student. Shy and giggly – unrelentingly sexy attributes, both! The further inwards I delved with my finger the louder her gasps and the wider she spread those slender legs of hers. Thinking to round off the lesson for the day, I located her clitoral hood and set up a vibratory pattern there-upon that had her fully unable to sit still. I had almost forgotten, such was my concerted application, the degree of arousal such activity was bequeathing my own procreative equipment.
“Oh gosh,” she moaned delightfully as the first of several pre-orgasmic tremors radiated outwards from vaginal ground zero. Her expression right then was that of a sexy young schoolgirl caught using the library’s computer to partake of some illicit chat with her boyfriend. I could ill-afford to slacken off my ministrations and thus I began to kiss her hard on the lips at the same time increasing the pressure on her quite obviously engorged clitoris.
I could feel the quake building and as she neared what I knew must be her first full-on orgasm at the behest of any male partner’s fingers, I felt her legs closing up on auto-pilot. I took her to the edge – nature dragged her over!
If there is anything sexier than a young girl locked-in to a doozy of an orgasm then I have no idea what it is. In Amy’s case, it was to die for. Fully incapable of rational dialogue, all she could muster was a series of ‘Ohhs” as wave after wave of coalesced pleasure wracked her slim frame. Watching as she slid a hand down between her own legs lending merely some token comfort to her abused little slit was simply icing on the cake.
Gradually she opened her pretty eyes. Flushed silly, but feeling I imagine extraordinarily healthy, she smiled up at me. “I can’t believe I just let you do that….but it felt so good,” she giggled, pulling her bra straps back up and wriggling her skirt down to her knees as she spoke. There is something just so inherently arousing observing a girl do that, most especially a teenager.
It was about that moment I remembered that I had needs of my own and watching what I just had, hardly qualified as a pacifier. With no particular expectation of reactivating the magic, I just pulled her to me once again and telling her truthfully just how beautiful she was, kissed her with all the passion that I possessed.
It was different this time – more a sense of urgency from her viewpoint. The harder I kissed her the tighter she wrapped her arms around my neck. Our words and intimacies became more subtle – less believable, but Oh how wonderful it was. Could I have known her long enough to actually love her? It didn’t matter, I whispered it aloud as I drank in her youth, her warmth…the whole essence of her being. For her part, she clung to me, not as a father-daughter might, not as a newly come-by lover should, but as only conjoined souls are able – on that empirical level that embraces awareness and inseparable affection.
I don’t even remember her kneeling in front of me – my back now to the seat. I have no recollection of sliding her panties down and her then straddling my hips with her own. I knew my hands were caressing her soft and pliant young bottom and that she was somehow urging me on to greater daring. Vaguely I was aware that she had pulled her bra up once again, freeing up both almost child-like breasts that now she was encouraging me to suckle erotically as I took such delight in the rest of her body.
“Be gentle” I heard her whimper as my erection pressed unerringly up between her legs. Had I asked this of her? Had this day been planned in cosmic realms unknown, eons ago? Now was not the time to ponder the mysteries of life however and kissing her passionately I left it to Amy to guide me in to the promised land. I felt her lips separating, the moisture on site and the tightest of channels barring my way. I’m sure she was crying softly whilst bearing down with her own hips, though I could no more contribute to her pain than I could withdraw from this field of dreams.
My only tools of trade – compliant lips and soothing words of affection were but a poor man’s anaesthesia yet she braved the worst of it for me with no audible complaint. One last thrust downwards as I winced for her and then I felt all hymenal resistance fade and I was able to slip deep inside her. This was a new world order, one that I was no more in control of than she was. All I knew – I desired her more than any girl before her. Yet this desire curiously, I knew was founded purely on love not lust.
As my own needs escalated in direct proportion to my deepening penetration of that semi-exposed cavern between her legs, I began to thrust up into her, even as she started to whimper aloud for me to cum inside her so that she might feel it. I gave no thought as to the possible consequences, merely fulfilling my sexual capacity in the best interests of Mother Nature. Holding her hips tightly, I spurted all I had to give, probably more – deep inside her vaginal corridor. Even as I pumped in those last few stragglers, the glow which spread across her face rendered all words obsolete.
Afterwards she just lay against me, wanting me to caress her hair and cheeks. She let me pull her panties back up, which served also to stem the tide of semen trickling down the inside of her thighs. It was all so ethereal and left-field of the real-time somehow.
We sat cuddled-up in that car for several hours watching life slip-by peacefully on the Ohio. I think I kissed her insensible. Eventually she told me she had to be back at 6 p.m. for her evening shift. I couldn’t bear it, but of course I had to drop her off.
The tears were still in free-fall even as I made the outskirts of Columbus that night.
Part II Back to The Future
Funny thing technology, it can work for you or against you. The internet for example – marvelous opportunities for communication and research, but it also enables people to trace you – some that you may quite possibly prefer couldn’t! Outraged husbands you have cuckolded, ex-wives seeking all those withheld alimony payments. The group of retirees you fleeced of their life-savings with that fake investment scam.
But then there was Amy!
Not twenty-four hours after “On The Banks of The Ohio” appeared in print, I received an email from Amy herself who incredibly, had read the account, and which she wrote in her email had emotionally drained her, as she re-lived in her own mind, all we shared so intimately that afternoon almost eight long years ago.
We have neither corresponded or been in contact with one another all that time.
Just twenty-four now herself, her communique filled in those missing years whilst mine back to her, achieved a similar purpose. She wrote of her regret that we were apparently never to see each other again and that for quite some time afterwards, she had cried herself to sleep wishing she could have spent more time with me. Fortuitous though it was that she had not fallen pregnant that day. Such an eventuality quite obviously not the ideal upshot, with two years of school yet to run.
I confided to her that my on-going journey to Columbus and beyond that evening, was not without great sadness to myself and that had it not been for my strict work itinerary, my impulse was to go back to New Richmond and tell her that which I felt, despite the inappropriate age-difference.
“Well I don’t live all that far from there now,” she emailed, “Do you still feel like coming back to tell me?”
Having been a creature of impulse all my life, I was on the first plane out of Sydney, Tuesday morning.
Barely four weeks since I completed the same thirteen-and-a-half hour haul out to ‘Frisco en route to Denver, at least I could look forward to a different forwarding flight – to Columbus this time. I felt like a drive – which was just as well, Springfield is some ninety-five minutes due west of the city (OK, eighty minutes the way I drive) along Interstate 70.
Picking up a Chrysler Sebring from a cute little brunette, resident at Thrifty’s sales desk at Columbus International, I hit the highway, wondering what seven years or so might have done to my recalled images of young Amy. Then I glanced in the rear-vision mirror. Yikes! what had those same years wreaked on my crowning glory, not to mention that unsightly roll gathering prominence around my waistline. For a moment I hoped that her looks had faded too – somewhat leveling the playing field, I rationalized.
The Marriott Courtyard on South Fountain, sandwiched between West Main and West High Streets is a class act any way you look at it and the food they dish up in the Meta Urban bistro there is worth a stay in itself.
Unpacking the small amount of luggage I had brought, I called Amy’s cellphone, it being mid-afternoon.
“Hello,” she answered, almost shyly. The soft voice sounded exactly as I remembered it.
“Is it too late in the day for hotcakes?” I enquired.
I suspect she was about to say “Pardon me?” but then I heard a little gasp of surprise instead.
“Is that you Noel?” she asked breathlessly. “Are you in Springfield already?”
“Well either that, or you’re talking to some incredibly well- programmed hologram sweetheart,” I told her. “Yep just checked into the Marriott Courtyard Hotel – you know where that is?”
“Oh yes,” she answered, “Want me to come over now?”
“Up to you,” I countered. “You can just send me an email instead if you prefer.” She giggled…the most delightful of girlish attributes.
“I’ll take my chances,” she whispered.
“Silly girl,” I replied hitting “end call.” Wonderful thing international roam!
Not forty minutes later, the lightest of knocks on my door.
“Thank God, my hot-cakes at last.” I said, swinging wide the door to my suite.
Takes a lot to surprise me. What stood on my thresh-hold definitely surprised me. Now she looked only nineteen…if that! Same hair, same face – same beautiful figure..absolutely nothing changed. I was almost embarrassed to be there.
“OK Amy,” I muttered “This some sort of illusion? You got George Lucas’ Industrial Light and Magic working on your case? What’s the story here?…you hardly look a day different!”
Her blushing just made her look younger still.
“Well, I guess you may as well come in sweetheart.” I told her, taking her arm and propelling her into my room. Catches like this you definitely don’t toss back in the river.
“Would you like a drink Amy?” I asked, glancing towards the mini-bar. “Nothing less than ten bucks a can I’d be guessing. Maybe if we both have one they’ll discount the bill at check-out?”
“Why don’t we go out and have something?” she suggested, smiling prettily.
I wasn’t really listening, taking in the vision standing there. Short but ultimately tasteful little midnight-blue skirt, cream colored top with lacy edging and the same tiny gold pendant she had worn that day in New Richmond. Flawless little face with not a line to suggest she was now approaching her mid twenties. Her blonde shoulder-length hair was cut much the same as it had been all those years ago. Worse, my fully depraved faculties were wishing she had worn that sexy little school uniform again. I thought it best not to mention this particular fact.
Putting my arm around her waist, I found a pair of lips in close proximity to my own. Does a cat pass-up a sparrow within a paw’s reach? No way – nor was I likely to allow so golden an opportunity to pass unchecked.
She tasted even better. Slipping her arms around my neck, she returned my kiss with much the same passion I recall us mustering that day down by the Ohio river.
“Yeah, well about that little walk,” I coughed nervously. Another few moments like this and the “do not disturb” sign would have been getting a work-out!
Again that cheekiest of smiles. I just grabbed her hand and we took off.
Strolling northwards along Fountain Avenue we came across a hospitable little eatery called “Station 1.” Whilst not exactly a five star restaurant….it is after all, eat-in or take-away, the menu was good and the d?r acceptable. I had me an enormous ham and turkey club sandwich that was big enough to need scaffolding, while Amy settled for their “Philly Cheesesteak” – a tempting steak, onion, peppers and provolone creation that would satisfy anyone nudging starvation. We shared a plate of French fries.
Conversationally we touched on anything and everything from recalled moments of shared intimacy that day in New Richmond, to “Dubya’s” short-term hold on the Presidency. I learned that Amy was basically unattached, as was I of course, and that despite the occasional boyfriend, no one had yet put down a holding deposit. Not that Amy herself had come across anyone likely to be invited to do so.
Pigged-out and refreshed, we strolled back along Main Street looking at a few shops but ultimately conversation of a wholly different nature seemed to be indicated and thus we returned to the Courtyard.
Seating herself demurely on the edge of the bed while I shifted a few things into the cupboard, she giggled softly.
“This is way comfier than last time I was with you.”
Whether by design or accident, I rather think the latter, I could hardly fail to notice suddenly that the hemline of her skirt had shifted well up her thighs and if that wasn’t a glimmer of enticing light-colored material snuggling up there just beyond the periphery of my up-skirt vision, then fancy was outstripping reality.
I sat down beside her.
“You thinking what I’m hoping?” I asked her softly.
“Uh huh,” was all she muttered. It was all she had to.
The thing about lacy little blouses is, they’re such fun to unbutton. Most especially when beneath, one comes across the skimpiest of silky bras that the designers have so thoughtfully equipped with a front clasp. Even as Amy lay back on the coverlet, her hair splayed attractively all over the pillow, I kissed her still rather petite breasts through the almost transparent material whilst dexterously unhooking her bra cups. Sliding them aside, her pretty breasts lay exposed to my vision just as they had all those years ago. I desired them equally and even as I drew down softly on her right nipple, feeling imminently, the softness swell between my lips, I could sense her body tensing momentarily – not with any trepidation I knew, but rather the knowledge of what was to come.
“You are the most beautiful girl Amy,” I whispered to her, running my hands across both breasts and teasing her nipples to the erect stage I think we both wanted to see them. She looked up me with the same vulnerable appeal that she had that day when still sixteen and I caressed her hair and kissed her gently on the lips.
I think it was at that point it turned serious!
She made no move to resist me as I tugged that tight little skirt higher, exposing fully now her pastel blue undies…which, if not a girl’s most erotically charged undergarment, is the gateway to unfettered pleasured fantasy.
Applying the gentlest of friction to the front of her panties I revelled in her escalating desire and slipping my hand beneath the waistband, located the true heat source, concealed as it was ‘midst a downy softness that no man-made fiber could replicate.
Hastily peeling her panties down I separated her labia and commenced a lateral caress of her wonderfully soft and moist inner lips. Her wide-eyed acceptance of her immediate fate, fully approved and date-stamped.
“Do I have to tell you what I felt that night Amy as I drove away from New Richmond?” I muttered softly, kissing her intermittently.
“I had tears in my eyes all the way back to Columbus,” if you really want to know.” She looked up at me, those same tears in her eyes now.
“I want you,” she whispered barely audibly. She needn’t have!
“Yeah? Well guess what? I ain’t rushing off this time sweetheart.” I told her. As I spoke, I parted her legs and having already extricated what might be considered, my “tool of trade,” positioned myself where I knew others must inevitably have been….though none could ever claim to have been there first. It wasn’t an aspect needed further contemplation I figured.
It’s kind of an old clich?o say we were then “lost in the rhythm,” yet this is how it was. Not a case of two biologically driven teenagers answering the call of lust. No “obligatory” union between long marrieds that rarely gets out of first gear and definitely no fumbling amateurs hoping for the best, yet discovering the least. We made love, pure and simple and at the point she clung to me as I substantially raised her fluid level, she smiled up at me with that sexy “cat that just finished off the cream” expression that girls are so good at.
“That was soo loving,” she whispered, fully in a post orgasmic haze now. I was floating too, on an ocean of my own making. This was no more than the aperitif.
I think I had her naked in less than a minute and under the covers, where I joined her for early afternoon mass. Pulling her astride me, it was very much a case of “Father Forgive me for what I know I’m going to do!”
That hot little mouth was more than willing to share its pent-up desire with my own. Kissing her with all the passion I could accrue, I had to admire her complete mastery of the occasion. Spreading her legs to the max to thus allow her access to guide me deep inside her, I was left with my own hands free with which to explore her youthful body and its many interesting crevices.
No matter what your experience in these things, all girls are different and each one weaves an individual magic all her own. I have had the greatest fortune to have been dealt the opportunity to caress many young girls hot little bottoms, some of dubious age I will be the first to admit. Each and every one has been a treasured moment in time and Wednesday’s exploratory of Amy’s sexy little rear-end was definitely no exception. There is actually nothing greatly more arousing than smoothing your way over a young girl’s rearward curves, even as you thrust up hard inside her. Her vulnerability at such times is extreme and its kinda fun also to wonder what her father would be thinking, if only he knew.
With her firm breasts making the most delightful contact with my upper chest and her hair all over my face as she wriggled contentedly, I can’t actually picture a more pleasant position to be in.
“Three more thrusts should do it,” I was thinking somewhat proudly. As it happened, two was all it took and even as she ground her hips against mine to better facilitate that final delivery mechanism, I pulled the hair from her eyes, so’s I could watch her expression as I pumped everything I had left deep inside that most private of feminine receptacles.
“You’re trying to kill me Amy, right?” I spluttered between my on-going respiratory distress, “Death by pleasure – that’s the intent here I’m guessing.”
“Can’t you keep up with a twenty-four year old?” she giggled softly.
“Twenty-four?” I replied. “I’m pretending you’re fourteen sweetie, what’s your problem!”
“You’re disgusting,” she fired back, “But c’mon I want you to fuck me again.” She wriggled her hips once more, as if I even needed further encouragement.
“Ohh, this is getting serious Amy,” I muttered. “You’re using the “f” word now. Have you no shame?”
“Not with you,” she giggled as I maneueverd her on top of me, but on her back this time.
There is no more vulnerable a position than this for a girl. Her breasts wholly at one’s digital mercy, her pussy too…especially if she opts to spread her legs to the limit of her muscular capability. If you can’t get her pregnant in that pose – give it away my friend.
From my viewpoint, pretty much going through the motions, given my fully depleted stock but Amy was far from replete.
Rubbing and pulling her breasts like the deviate I can be, I had her whimpering and moaning with consummate ease. Though I’m not sure it wasn’t my pleasured moaning I was actually hearing. No matter, finding that I was now able to ease a finger inside her as well as my seven inches of penile insert was really hot stuff. Teasing her clitoral hood at the same time I was fucking her, really got the job done.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” She cried, fully over the edge and quite past any semblance of controlled emotion. Unsure just how long I could maintain this level of aggravated sexual conduct myself, I began to kiss her neck and this, to my everlasting gratitude, brought forth the desired conclusion.
I held her breasts tightly, even as she was transported by one tsunami of an orgasm. I felt it radiating outwards…I think I even contributed a last few cubic millimeters of sticky stuff myself. Can’t be sure though.
The next eight hours we simply slept together blissfully. Amy cradled in my arms with her back to me as I nuzzled her neck and shoulders. Sex is great but closeness is everything.
As I said to her when we woke just a few hours ago.
“Where the Hell do we go from here?”
Part 3: Rock, Paper, Scissors
Just how fickle is man?
You would think that I of all people, could answer that question, being born of the sex in question? Fact is, I must plead the fifth here, having regrettably an inside knowledge of both the case and its litigants.
It seems I am currently on a soul-cleansing kick of sorts, given my propensity of late to divulge various aspects of my sexual experiences that assuredly portray me as a man of dubious ethical status. Certainly the last chapter of “HV Postscript” entitled When the Sun Goes Down On Harper Valley, does not exactly upsize my credibility as either a bona-fide protector of womanhood in general or as a father per se!
Now it is time to lay aside another myth – the monogamous nature of Phrenetic_Ice.
Some of you may recall an earlier published recollection entitled PSG? If not, it matters little. The story simply explored the outcome for a teenage girl in Colorado, who fulfilled her wish to meet with the likely deviate, who penned the Harper Valley series and which she freely admitted had provided her with many a night of orgasmic solace.
Our meeting that afternoon was not without its own two-way emotional entrapment. What I failed to point out to readers subsequently is that we planned on marrying…and before you cast your heavy-handed judgments upon me, be aware that such a union was shortly afterwards fully ratified by Katie’s parents themselves, despite both being considerably younger even than me.
I had of course then, no right whatsoever being in Springfield Ohio recently, attempting to resurrect a seven-year’s past, romantic interlude with Amy that was chronicled in some detail in “On the Banks of the Ohio.”
Why then did I do it?
It assuredly wasn’t to compromise my relationship with Katie. It certainly reflected no intention on my part to ‘play the field’ to feed my own vanity. If I had to offer some psychological insight into my behavior it is because I simply love girls – uniquely and separately. I tend to compartmentalise relationships and live each on subtly different planes. Ultimately of course this is not workable – which is why, shortly after I wrote at the very end of “Back To The Future” – “So where do we go from here?”… I confessed to Amy the situation with Katie.
She looked at me for a few moments, neither angry or tearful.
“Have you any idea what you do want?” she asked eventually, drawing the bed-sheets up around her waist.
“I want both of you,” I replied almost with petulance.
“And how many others are there?” she enquired. “Are we just talking about America or does your problem extend to various other continents?”
“I haven’t explained this very well, have I?” I offered up, none to confidently.
“You haven’t explained it at all,” Amy responded. “Matter of fact, I’m not even sure why I’m still talking to you.” She was almost pouting now – quite the prettiest little expression on her face.
“So let me see if I’m understanding this Noel.” she continued. “You fly out from Sydney Australia just to see me in Springfield. You tell me you love me, mainly because you ‘forgot’ to mention it last time you were in Ohio while taking a vulnerable seventeen-year old girl’s virginity one hot summer’s afternoon. Now, almost eight years later, we make love all night but instead of getting me breakfast as you promised, you sit there telling me “well actually there is this girl in Colorado I had planned on marrying?” Have I missed anything?
“Yes,” I said. “The whole point of what I was trying to explain Amy.” I paused for a moment “Would you like me to go downstairs and cook you some breakfast sweetheart?”
“No, its OK,” she replied sweetly, “I’d only want to throw it at you …sweetie!”
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
“So what age “teenie” is she? Are we even talking legal here?”
“She’s nineteen,” I confessed. Damn it did sound ridiculous, even after putting her age up a few months.
“Well I guess I can’t be overly critical,” she said matter-of-factly. I was only a couple of weeks past being sixteen myself that day down at the river. What is it with you and majorly young girls? You think maybe your middle-life crisis is extending into old age?”
“Ouch” I said, “Nah its nothing like that Amy. I haven’t lied to you – I do love you, it’s just that…..” she cut me dead.
“Yeah – you love Katie too – and God knows how many other girls you have managed to seduce by virtue of the written word. You know what makes me angrier than anything Noel?”
I looked at her blankly.
“The fact that I love you as well. I can’t believe how stupid, na?, and gullible I must be.” She stared at the bed-covers for fully a minute. “So what is the plan?” she asked.
“Let’s drive to Denver and sort this out?” I proffered.
“You mean like girl to girl?” she levelled at me. “Yeah right! While you take yourself down to the nearest coffee bar and seduce two more waitresses during their meal break? Good idea! And like Katie is gonna be real happy to see me isn’t she?…..Oh and the other thing – you wanna drive to Denver? You know how long that would take??? Well over eighteen hours! And guess what? I’ll need a lift home!”
“What kind of problem?” Katie asked, after I rang her cell.
I had of course to tell her I was back in the States to which she understandably enquired,
“Dare I ask where…not to mention why?”
I figured the latter was best left unanswered at this juncture. Pagan Sex Goddesses can be a real handful when they get mad.
During the course of the next couple of sentences I finally brought up the subject of my twenty-four year old compatriot.
“That’s not the Amy from your Ohio story is it?” she asked. “I had more or less assumed that story was true.” She was quiet for a moment or two. “OMG Noel you’ve gone back to see her haven’t you?” I could feel the generated heat. The phone line went dead.
Took multiple call-backs but as always, a girl’s naturally inquisitive nature won out over anger.
I had barely gotten out a couple of brief sentences in between being castigated from pillar to post when Katie asked outright.
“Is she there with you now?” I had of course to be honest in my reply.
“Put her on please…I think I’ll get more sense out of her.” I handed Amy the cell.
The two of them must have run up one hell of a bill, but as the conversation wore on, it was evident there was little or no animosity being engendered either way. At the point Amy started actually giggling, I was flummoxed.
Eventually she put the phone down and turned to me.
“She is way too intelligent for you,” she laughed. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
For a twelve hundred mile trip, it went pretty damn quick. The first day, we drove from dusk till dawn pulling into Topeka KS, which at six seventy five miles from Springfield, was well over half-way. Booking a suite at the Ramada Inn on East Sixth, we both availed ourselves of a hot shower (separately guys….kindly keep your minds above the belt would you please!)
Way too late for dinner, we simply had room service bring up an array of sandwiches and liquid refreshments. We ate in near silence for the greater part of it.
Cleared away, we changed for bed and Amy sure as Hell wasn’t going to make it easy for me.
“So, are we going to share the King size Amy, or am I banished to the trundle?
She sat there on the edge of the covers, a picture of rampant desire and youthful appeal. “Hell, this could go to the video ref” I was thinking.
“Well I guess one more night isn’t going to make any difference to Katie is it? she replied finally. “I doubt the possibility hasn’t occurred to her and besides, you’re a rat anyway, so what damage can just one more evening of betrayal cause?”
I was beginning to like the way she thought.
Even as I slid her panties down, kissing those sexy little hips on either side, she was giggling softly “What a total bastard…ohh yesss, right there please!”
Needing obviously to give Katie’s parents a wide berth (she still lives at home of course) we rang ahead and made a booking with what sounded like a convenient meet-up point on Colorado Boulevard. Somewhere that Katie could get herself to with reasonable ease of direction.
What can I say? The Royal Palace Motel might certainly be termed ‘convenient.’ What it might not be adjudged, is ‘upmarket!” With patrons milling around that must surely have had their ten minutes of fame on stage with Jerry Springer, the motel represented the premier stop-over point for all the local trailer-trash.
Pulling-in to the Palace’s near empty car-park we were just fifteen minutes up-front of our 4 p.m. appointment. Securing the swipe-card to Suite 31 which the girl at the front desk assured us was “to the rear of the building and quite cosy,” we located the sole elevator which besides smelling of feral cats, required one to hold the door closed to maintain electrical contact.
Amazingly the room itself was habitable – almost luxuriously appointed by comparison to the rest of the building. Couple of King Size beds, newly painted walls and serviceable carpet almost made up for the tatty curtains stapled permanently closed across the window. I suggested Amy make herself comfortable while I go down to the car-park to wait for Katie who was due any moment.
Barely had time to cross the road to the gas station opposite and get a six-pack of “Sprite” when she pulled in to the entrance and parked alongside the Sebring.
I scored a brief kiss of sorts, although her expression was suggesting “You’re totally dead-meat unless you can come up with some world-class defense strategy here.”
“Where’s Amy?” she asked. I told her I’d left her upstairs and that we had only just gotten here ourselves. As I once again commandeered the elevator from Hell, Katie simply looked at me. “Classy place,” she muttered, sniffing the air as the door closed for the fourth time.
“You’re looking really nice Katie,” I told her, wanting to change the subject, besides which the skirt and top she had on were both stylish and tasteful.
“I know,” she said, putting me totally in my place.
Introducing the girls to each other was not the definingly awkward moment I had envisaged. Rather it was me who seemed the superfluous entity. There being no useable chairs to speak of, the girls perched either side of one of the huge beds whilst I took up residence on the other…far enough away to almost need a loud-hailer.
Was the conversation stilted? You would have thought so, but right from the word go, the two of them were as at ease with one another as might have been two sisters meeting up after a few years apart. Amy was keenly interested in Katie’s chosen subjects at College while the differing Ohio lifestyle seemed to be a topic of untapped discussion, judging by Katie’s incessant questions on the subject.
After some twenty minutes of near social-exclusion I informed both girls I was going downstairs to organise some refreshments. Besides glancing across at me, my impending departure seemed to register little in the way of interest. ‘Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea after all,’ I was thinking.
On my return they were still at it, so making myself comfortable between them, albeit nestled up against the headboard, I proffered the tray of sandwiches to either girl in turn, who showed not the least reluctance to relieve me of either a turkey and cranberry or a ham on rye creation. I didn’t have to force-feed them the champagne either.
Midway through her second sandwich, Amy just looked up and enquired,
“So, when are you guys getting married?”
Katie stared at me….”Yeah, good question Amy – I was wondering that myself.”
“Whoa!” I muttered, making a noise like a siren, “Pull over…Wedding Police!” No-one laughed.
“Well hey, you want we should finish these sandwiches first Katie, or should I call down to Room Service and get the number for “dial a preacher?” I asked.
Feeling less in control by the minute, I figured to try a new tack.
“Okies well look, my plan always was for us to get the house first – which I still plan on doing before Christmas incidentally, then we gather unto ourselves our what? three friends? and we wing it to the local courthouse to do the ring thing?”
“You make it sound so romantic,” Katie giggled. I leaned across and gave her a kiss.
I glanced backwards to see Amy watching intently.
“Its OK, you can kiss her too if you like?” Katie grinned at me.
“ I can?” I spluttered, fully bewildered now.
“Sure,” Katie smiled, “She’s nice – I really like her!”
I wasn’t about to put it to the vote. Inching across the bed I leaned forward and kissed Amy lightly on the mouth.
Not one hundred percent sure what it did for her, but at the point she put her arm around my neck, I wasn’t feeling quite so platonic. The kiss deepened and the sensation was exquisite.
“God that is so hot,” Katie laughed. How I wanted to be hotter!
Inching up beside me near the headboard, Katie took a hold of my hand and thus I broke off facial contact with Amy and sought her own moist and sweet tasting lips. The fact that I could now observe the curve of her diabolically sexy breasts as they nestled barely out of sight in that frilly little bra,. was no guarantee of my continued good behavior.
As if to confirm my degenerating social inclinations, with my spare hand I began to fondle those exquisite mounds with respectful gentility.
“Noel,” she gasped, returning my hand to the coverlet, “Behave, we have company,”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Amy giggled…“I’m used to it!” then realising the implications of what she had said, put a hand to her mouth. “God, I’m so sorry Katie – I didn’t mean anything by that!”
Pulling free from my lips, Katie grinned, “Don’t worry about it Amy, I know how he is… way less control than the average schoolboy….as I’m sure you’ve discovered.” It was Amy’s turn to blush.
Once more my hand roamed the dunes and valleys, but this time I encountered no resistance. Katie allowed herself to be eased back on to the bed while I caressed her softly. I can’t say that she was moaning, but her body language was not in any need of an interpreter let’s say. I was conscious of Amy moving in closer herself and turned to look at her.
I have mentioned before how girls invariably seek each other’s hand in group sexual situations. I’m not sure whether it is some sort of spiritual support or just a ‘sisterhood’ thing. Whatever, Amy had gently grasped Katie’s left hand and was looking at her with a mixture of compassion and sexual arousal.
“Kiss her again,” Katie half whimpered, an instruction that did not warrant repeating. This time I kissed her exactly as I had that day down at the Ohio river and with much the same result. She too was now encroaching on emotional melt-down, fully unable to repel my hand which now was gently squeezing both breasts beneath her top. Katie I knew was aware of this but equally happy it seemed to allow it.
The softness beneath my fingers was shredding any semblance of diplomacy on my part and our kisses escalating in passionate interaction. Amy’s soft moaning was now fully audible, but far from discouraging what might be seen as outright betrayal, Katie continued her urging for me to take things quite obviously to the next level.
“Play with her tits” I heard her whisper.
So shocked was I hearing this, I glanced back at her only to find Katie propped up on one arm with her right hand well up between her legs, performing deeds of valor that were unfortunately totally obscured by her skirt.
I had Amy supine in moments and met with not the least resistance – either physical or verbal, as I undid the top few buttons of her top. So skimpy that lacy – almost crocheted little bra, I could see her erect nipples straining beneath the soft material. Not for long though, a front-loading clasp is the equivalent of a lottery win in such situations.
The gasps I heard as Amy’s breasts were revealed in totality, reflected both girls’ delightful femininity and there really was but one option open to me. As I leaned forward, suckling her right breast, drawing down deeply on that perfectly formed dark brown nipple, I felt Amy’s sudden intake of breath at exactly the same moment Katie whimpered, “God that is just soo hot….keep sucking her.”
Problem is, when your mouth is engaged in so pleasurable an activity, your hands start to feel left out of the equation and can hardly be blamed for wanting to redress the situation.
Even as I commenced tugging Amy’s skirt upwards, she began to shake her head from side to side in denial of my planned modus operandi. Despite the fact she was now rubbing herself hard through her own panties, Katie made with the slightest gasp and inclining her head whispered, “Please don’t fuck her…but you can do anything else….”
Amy showed no sign of having heard Katie’s plea and despite indicating some initial reluctance, made no attempt to dissuade my hand from inching further north. As I reached her panties she could not prevent her legs from spreading marginally, to allow better access.
I suppose any impartial observer would have considered my plight at that moment, something akin to winning Powerball. Sucking a young girl’s breasts while fingering her senseless, as one’s teenage fiancee looks on, masturbating herself to Paradise.
From my viewpoint, about all I could concentrate on was the texture and softness of those wonderful milky-smelling breasts and the sensation of my fingers as they slipped inside Amy’s panties to begin caressing that moist chasm between her legs.
“Oh God, I am soo coming,” Katie announced suddenly to no-one in particular, as she quite obviously attained the finishing line with multiple soft cries of pleasured release. Such things are contagious, for not more than thirty seconds afterwards, Amy began to buck wildly – her hips fully in control of the situation – as she too registered a seismic quake of acceptably pleasing proportions.
Now here was a situation I would have thought that might have been hard to follow-up with normal conversation. I mean, what could anyone say? “Thanks for letting me borrow your fiancee’s fingers Katie?”…or maybe, “That was soo cool – watching you sucking that girl’s tit’s Noel!”
As it happened, the last thing I was expecting came to pass. Both girls sat up and made themselves decent – doing up buttons, pulling hemlines down etc before heading off to the bathroom together to rinse their sticky little fingers (if not other areas) I suspect. I was left simply to contemplate my unfulfilled procreative status, with little more than a hand towel and the remnants of the champagne bottle.
On their return, both girls looked at me like I was some charitable case sitting in the gutter and swigging cheap wine out of a paper bag. That’s pretty much what I felt like as it happened.
Perching themselves on the covers alongside me, both of them giggled before Amy muttered to Katie, “He looks soo sad, what can we do to cheer him up?”
“Why don’t you kiss each other,” I suggested, quaffing the remnants of my quite excellent champagne.
“You mean like this?” said Katie, leaning across and kissing Amy’s lips far from indelicately. The other girl had not been expecting this and was momentarily taken aback. Possibly on account of the alcohol coursing through her own system, maybe she was just in the mood – who knows? but whatever, Amy then slipped an arm around Katie’s shoulder and returned her kiss with fire of her own.
Be assured, this had my whole attention. Sure, I had seen my share of girl on girl affection at Harpers….what am I saying?..in my own house, but this was vastly more intimate and arousing – most likely because it was unplanned and just happened to be involving two young women that I had a keen personal interest in.
It was Katie’s turn now to be bereft of any conventional response and as if seeking guidance, she glanced at me for a second. I just smiled and muttered to them both, “Hey it’s Ok with me guys, just do what comes naturally?”
Well what can I say? Just so much seemed to come naturally to them.
After some moments of what I would have to describe as intense kissing, both girls relaxed their embrace and breathing heavily looked into each others eyes. I think it was at this second, questions were asked and equally – answered! As before, Katie took the initiative and very tentatively laid her right hand on Amy’s breast. This brought an audible gasp of surprise and I thought for a second, she would resist any further advance. Instead though she pushed a few locks of hair out of her eyes and began to lightly fondle Katie’s undeniably sexy mounds.
How the Hell was I supposed to handle this? Just a poor guy stranded on a bed of dreams with two girls making out? I was ultimately aware of course of physiological changes taking place in areas of my own personal concern, but far less sure of what I was gonna do about it?
At this juncture, both girls I think were either unaware or unconcerned as to my presence. Both were on a voyage of exploration and discovery, borne out by Katie actually slipping a hand inside Amy’s bra and quite obviously fondling her skin to skin. The slightest of moans were now audible as Amy wriggled about, inserting her own hand up beneath Katie’s skirt. I had no option but to facilitate access to a part of my anatomy that in normal circumstances might be classified socially inappropriate.
Having now her breasts (and presumably nipples) manipulated as well as experiencing her pussy rubbed silly through her panties, Katie’s resistance was at an all time low now and her needs escalating in time with her respiratory distress. Unable to contribute anything useful in the way of conversation, she had slipped further down the covers and was happy to let Amy dictate the pace.
Seeking to help matters along, I knelt alongside Katie and began unfastening the clasp on her skirt. She gave a little cry of almost fake shock but made no effort to prevent me unzipping her and then tugging the item completely off. This of course returned a rather more involving aspect of her wriggling about in those skimpy little pink panties while Amy’s fingers performed their own vaginal mazurka for my viewing pleasure.
Wanting simply to balance up proceedings though having still a hand inside my own zipper – a fact Katie, but not yet Amy, had noticed, to judge by her cheeky smile, I slipped my spare hand up between Amy’s knees as she knelt there indulging her lust with my fiancee, and began to rub her panties the length of that delightfully sexy slit. Even had the inclination to kiss those hot little lips between my dexterous ministrations.
“Pull her panties down,” Katie giggled between gasps of pleasure. Seemed like a sensible notion to me, even though I was forced to defer my own pleasured caresses in order to comply with her wishes. For her part, Amy was something less than reluctant and getting up on all fours now, straddling Katie completely, wiggled her backside in my direction. A foolish move in any circumstances.
For just a few moments I allowed myself the luxury of simply taking in this super-heated image of girlish indulgence. Katie with her hand up between Amy’s legs frigging her silly, while she in turn was having her own pussy played with, the girls intermittently kissing as before.
Kneeling behind Amy, Katie had to desist momentarily fingering her newly come-by friend, whilst I tugged those sexy black knickers down and off. The view was improved 100% at the point I removed her skirt also. She always did have a rear end to die for.
It would of course have been the work of but two seconds to penetrate Amy from that angle and indeed my every instinct was thus primed, but Katie looked up at me as I positioned myself, and once again just shook her head, that expression pleading silently for my honorable retreat. Instead then, I knelt to the side of the tableau and began squeezing and rubbing Amy’s breasts, which brought forth moans of pleasure…from both girls. After all, Amy had Katie’s nipples completely free of her bra now and was manipulating them with something less than finesse. It was patently obvious both these two, liked girls!
As the two of them found yet more ways to pleasure each other, I was left to play catch-up with my own swollen and cruelly ignored member. Gazing at Amy’s naked bottom was as good a way as any to get myself over the line – especially seeing several of Katie’s fingers now, buried up to the knuckle inside her pussy.
Katie, ever aware of what I was doing, did her best to help by fingering Amy harder by the second. “Cum over her butt,” she yelped breathlessly. The right words at the right time! Looking in the wash-up, not unlike Zorro’s calling card, I spurted a goodly amount of sticky white gel all across those sexy cheeks. I heard Amy gasp and saw Katie grin.
The girls brought each other off seconds later and there was peace in the valley for the next five minutes.
“How come Katie still has her panties on?” Amy giggled eventually. She had a point, and thus midst cries of “Noooo, c’mon guys, this is so naughty,” I held her arms whilst Amy tugged them off. I have to admit that sexy little triangle of brown hair was an immediate magnet for everyone’s viewing enjoyment.
You surely cannot blame me for wanting to capitalise on this searing hot opportunity of having two, pretty-much naked young girls on hand? Grabbing next Amy’s arms, I pulled her back on to the covers while she struggled, mainly for effect I have to say. “Lick her Katie,” I pleaded – something that I know she was not mentally averse too, as we had discussed her girl-girl preferences long ago.
Discussing it and actually seeing it are way different experiences however. For her part, Amy was gasping with embarrassment and surprise – but I didn’t see any attempt by her to close up those legs. Katie simply knelt between her knees and giving her next to no time to adjust, kissed her hard on the pussy before licking her gently that first time.
The noise that escaped Amy’s lips at that moment was, if not a hiss of pleasure. a sigh of resigned submission. The fact is most girls like being licked by other girls even if they cannot bring themselves to admit it. Amy quite clearly did not have that reluctance, as she pulled Katie further to her and spread her legs like the slut she wanted to be right then.
From my perspective, it was all good news – virtually a reversal of the sexy girl on girl aspect I had witnessed not ten minutes earlier. Only difference was this was not a pussy I could or should ignore that wavered before me, as her owner accentuated its presence – some might think deliberately – by wiggling her bottom in my direction. They don’t make come-ons any clearer.
No sooner had I made a move in her rearward direction than Amy, bucking almost from Katie’s indecent assaults, muttered audibly, “Fuck her Noel, fuck her little pussy real hard.”
I always aim to please.
Even as I aligned myself for entry, Katie had her own hand up between her legs in readiness to guide me in. I felt her gasp as I pushed into her with little gentility but maximum intent. I was just able to make out Amy taking a hold of Katie’s breasts that she then began rubbing and fondling and which brought gasps of pleasured reaction from their owner. Grasping those well delineated hips I began to thrust in deeper until Katie was moaning loud enough to disturb anyone in the next three rooms. There is no way this was ever going to be a prolonged stay, and indeed the reality of Katie’s predicament – my fucking her and Amy molesting her stupid, could only ever combine to relieve me of my procreative stocks – such that remained at least, in near-record time.
Withdrawing, I sank to my knees just as Katie, clutching at her well-patronised tourist venue, rolled over on to her back alongside Amy, who either forgetting entirely the aspect she was presenting to the world, or whose sexual needs were such that she figured “open is best,” simply smiled up at me like the proverbial Cheshire cat!
“What in Hell are we achieving here?” I wondered. I started the day with two girls, two problems and really only one choice. Now I had two girls, two problems and pretty much no choice!
(c) Appears courtesy of the published anthology "The Best of Peter_Pan" (2007 Lulu Press Inc: Morrisville: NC)
Please visit also "The World of Peter_Pan" website http://www.geocities.com/phrenetic_ice/wopp.html