Chapter 1

I’m an unusual girl in a lot of ways. I’m an orphan. My parents were killed in a plane crash when I was nine, and I have been in foster homes since then, because I don’t have any living relatives.

I was lucky, and the foster parents I got assigned, long term, were OK people. Maybe a little emotionally distant, but none of the horror story stuff you’ve seen in the news. Mr. Connors never tried to look at me when I was naked; and he never tried to molest me. Mrs. Connors never beat me or screamed at me. She never called me nasty names.

At age fourteen, I had waist length red hair. I usually wore it down and straight. I was four feet six inches tall and weighed about seventy pounds. My bra was, 26 AA. A lot of kids at school thought I was cute, but I didn’t have many friends. I wouldn’t hang with, let alone date, idiots.

The Connors’ biological son was three years older than me. He took my virginity. He didn’t forcibly rape me, but he was very insistent, so that I thought it was better to cooperate than to dwell on my fears and fight him. After all, if made a fuss and got reassigned, I might get one of those horror story foster parents. I wasn’t getting much out of masturbation after four years of four or more masturbation sessions a day, so I definitely thought I needed to fuck to get off hard enough for it to do me some good. It’s just that chubby Reggie wasn’t the man of my dreams or the guy I imagined as my first lover.

It turned out he had read a lot about what to do to make a girl feel good, and after the pain from getting my hymen torn went away, I liked fucking a lot. It took a while, but I was finally able to admit to myself that I liked fucking Reggie. He was a good guy, down deep, and he realized he shouldn’t have pressured me. He apologized, and by that time I was cumming three or four times for every time he came, so I was inclined to forgive pretty much everything he’d done before. Reggie took me to the Free Clinic to get an IUD as soon as he realized I wanted to fuck him every single day. He was nicer to me when he realized I wasn’t going to rat him out and that I actually wanted to fuck him just as much as he wanted to screw me.

A bigger problem with Reggie than his being chubby and hairless, started bothering me. His dick was a little short and kind of thin. I didn’t get that “stretched to the limit” feeling I’d read about in my favorite trashy romance novels. If we tried different positions, I kept having to put him back inside me a lot. That kind of breaks the mood so, while he got me off every time we did it, I didn’t have that dreamy, satisfied feeling the romance novels I secretly read, talked about. I definitely wasn’t in love with Reggie or even attracted to him. It was a fucked-up, friends with benefits, kind of thing.

I was just barely fourteen-years-old, perpetually horny, very sexually active, but vaguely unsatisfied, when I walked into my Physics class, the first day of school. The teacher, Mr. Turner, looked like one of those California Surfer Boy types. He was about six feet, three inches tall, blond hair, just a little too long to be a business cut, and he had the most magnetic blue eyes you ever saw. Even the legendary Paul Newman would be jealous of the blue of Mr. Turner’s eyes.

He had a fit body, broad shoulders, trim waist, a chest that says sexy muscles, but he wasn’t gross like a body builder. I could stare at his face and body all day. Our district doesn’t require the male teachers to wear a tie, so from the neck of his polo shirt, I could see he had some hair on his chest, but from his arms I could tell he wasn’t furry like a bear or something disgusting. Just enough to tell a girl he was all man.

I was smitten. I was wearing a sun dress for the first day of school. Because I was in foster care, I didn’t get anything fancy. The dress was second hand; a tropical print, almost like a Hawaiian shirt. It was mostly dark green. Because I have red hair, I always seem to pick green tops and dresses. I was wearing a plain, white cotton, 26 AA bra, which I barely needed, and white, knit cotton bikini panties.

That year my hair was long, like down to my waist, and I was wearing it loose that day. My color red is not that nasty orange color, and my hair is thick, smooth, and straight, not all thin and frizzy like a lot of redheads.

I guess I should remind you that I’m a shrimp. I’m four feet, six inches tall. I seem to have unlimited energy, and my mom used to say that I was like Taz, the cartoon Tasmanian Devil. I’m not fat, but being so short, I don’t look particularly skinny either. A lot of girls would think 26 AA is too small for their tits to get male attention, but because I’m so little, I don’t look too flat chested. I’m pretty content with my body.

My worst problem in school is that I’m too smart for my age, so I’ve skipped a grade or two. Mostly I’ve tried to go low profile and not act smart, so I don’t get bullied. I was mulling over how to get some of Mr. Turner’s attention. Would I be the whiz kid student, or the struggling girl who desperately needed his help?

I was thinking about my teacher’s very masculine body too much, and I started getting all flushed, which really shows up on my pale skin; plus, I was way past dewy between my legs. I could tell my panties were just about soaked to their capacity to hold moisture. I could also smell myself, and I was hoping that the stale sweat from twenty-nine other adolescent bodies was covering up my “throw me on the floor and fuck me now” organic perfume.

The bell rang, and I was about to make my escape, when Mr. Turner asked me to see him after class. I collected up my stuff and held it in front of me, almost like a shield, when I went up to his desk.

“Amanda, I saw in your records that you are in the system. (In the System is slang for a kid in foster care.) I just wanted you to know I was in foster homes myself. If there are problems at home, or someone is doing something to you that you don’t like, I can try to help, or at least listen,” He said.

“Thanks, Mr. Turner. I’m good. My foster parents are fine. No horror stories,” I said.

“Why Physics?” He asked.

“Typical Nerdette. I want to be a lab tech if I can’t get to college, or some kind of scientist or professor, if I can,” I said.

“You don’t look nerdy, Mandy,” Mr. Turner said, and my pussy literally gushed.

“Thanks. I’m allergic to bullies, so I do my best not to look like a target. By the way, everyone wants to call me Mandy, and I don’t like it,” I said.

“You kind of like me, don’t you, Miss Amanda Jones?” He asked.

Right away I flashed to my dad playing The Rolling Stones as loud as the stereo would go. That was definitely “my song.” I tried hard not to start crying.

“Well, you seem like you are going to be a good teacher,” I said.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. It looked like you were daydreaming, but staring at me at the same time for the whole class. Then there’s your, shall we say, organic perfume, throwing bunches of hot girl pheromones at me. What have you got on your mind, little girl?” He challenged me.

“Well you got my biological message, loud and clear, so what do you think is on my mind, Mr. Turner?” I asked.

“I think you’d like to develop a closer relationship with your single, thirty-year-old teacher,” He said.

“That would be a logical conclusion, given the available data. The thing is, those relationships always prove to be problematic, and the adult male suffers serious consequences that aren’t commensurate with his actions, in the majority of cases. For example, in this case, the minor female announced her interest and willingness in a way the adult male really couldn’t ignore. However, the laws of State of California claim that I’m not capable of making decisions for myself, and if detected, any close relationship would get you charged with raping me, no matter how eagerly and vociferously I was begging you to merge your assets with mine.

“I would hate to reap all of the benefits and share none of the risk. Because I’m in the system, I get checked up on frequently. I don’t think I could get myself free from prying eyes for long enough and definitely not on a regular basis, so any attempt at building a relationship would be unsatisfying, as well as unsafe. I am quite sure that even one close encounter would be so mutually satisfactory that either or both of us would take unwise risks to attempt repeated coupling on a frequent basis. That’s why I advise that we don’t even attempt a one-time thing,” I said.

“You are not like any other fourteen-year-old in the world, Amanda.” He said.

“Should I ask for a transfer to a different section, sir?” I asked.

“That would probably be wise, Miss Jones,” Mr. Turner said.

He smiled at me in a way that made me feel like he was not going to follow my advice. I squished my way out of his classroom and down the hall to my locker. I got the books I needed for homework and walked home.

Mrs. Connors had started working, so she wasn’t home yet. I practically raped Reggie, and he was wondering what had gotten into me, besides his cock, because when he squirted in me, I started sucking his dick right away to get him hard, so he could fuck me again.

“I’m not complaining, but since when has four orgasms not been enough for you?” Reggie asked.

“I saw something I liked at school today, and I got all worked up. Don’t tell me you mind getting to shoot off in my pussy more than once,” I said.

Reggie was enough of a normal seventeen-year-old boy to cooperate and fuck me again, as soon as he got hard. He was able to last a lot longer this time, and I came six more times before he filled up my cunt with his cum for the second time that afternoon.

I knew I didn’t have a shit eating grin on my face, but Reggie sure did. I decided I needed to be very dedicated to my homework tonight so we weren’t in the same room, or the kitty would be out of the bag, and even Reggie’s unimaginative parents would know that it was my furrow their son Reggie was plowing.

We got through dinner and I escaped to my room to work on school assignments. I didn’t think the parental units had observed anything.

About two in the morning I found myself awake and intolerably horny. I took off my panties and slipped down the hall to Reggie’s room. I woke him up and told him I was in need. He smiled instead of complaining. I made him lie on the floor so a squeaky bed wouldn’t give us away.

I straddled him and sat on his cock. I rode him through four good, hard orgasms, and I was climbing to the summit for a fifth time, when I lost control and whimpered quite loudly when I came. Reggie went off and I bucked and wiggled on top of him to wring a sixth cum out of my now exhausted body.

The door burst open, the ceiling light came on, and Mr. & Mrs. Connors were standing there gaping at their fourteen-year-old foster kid with her still spasming pussy impaled on their seventeen-year-old son’s prick. I was wearing a long Tee shirt, so they couldn’t see the messy details, but the smell of sex was heavy in the room, and they could guess what we’d been up to.

My brain kicked into high gear, and I said, “Mrs. Connors, this isn’t Reggie’s fault. I talked him into doing this. I felt like I was going to die if I didn’t get some relief, and I couldn’t think of anyone except Reggie, who is clean and nice, to help me.”

“Mrs. Connors, please take Amanda to her room. I need to talk to Reggie,” Mr. Connors said.

I lifted off of Reggie’s deflating dick and began my walk of shame to my room. His mother was close behind and his cum was dripping out of my cunt. I thought about trying to cup my hand under my hole to catch his semen, so it didn’t drip on the carpet, but I was afraid his mother would see that as a lewd gesture, so I walked quickly to minimize the dripping.

It turned out that the Connors had three big questions: One, did Reggie get me pregnant? Two, could he be charged with statutory rape? and Three, would they lose their California Foster Home License?

When they found out that I had an IUD, our ages were close enough together for the Romeo & Juliette loophole to apply, and that I wasn’t going to tell anyone, Reggie’s parents visibly relaxed. Apparently, the state paid the Connors more to take care of me than my foster parents spent on the taking care of me. The Connors depended on that small amount of income to make ends meet.

We arrived at an uneasy truce, but I thought the Connors would probably ask to have me moved to another foster home because I wouldn’t promise never to have sex with Reggie again. I told Mrs. Connors that I wasn’t going to disrespect her by lying.

I couldn’t go to sleep, so I started thinking about stories I’d read about underage girls having sex and getting married in order to make it legal for an older man they loved, to have sex with them. I remembered this one group of stories about some really smart girls who get married at young ages. I searched my feelings really deeply. I wondered if I was just in lust with Mr. Turner, or if I was falling in love with him. I decided I better find out before I asked him to marry me.

I didn’t ask for a transfer out of Mr. Turner’s class. Since it was my last class of the day, it was easy for me to talk to him after school.

“Mr. Turner, can we stop being clever and just be honest?” I asked.

“I think that would be a good idea. I was trying to use humor to deflect your feelings, which were making me worried,” He said.

“I was surprised by my emotional and physical reactions to you. I have been wondering if there is something more than infatuation and lust going on for both of us. Since we didn’t meet in some dramatic way, like you rescuing me from a building destroyed by a hurricane, I don’t think we will have a love at first sight, PTSD derived kind of reaction. That means we need to spend time together to know exactly how we feel. I think we need to figure out how to do that without getting you fired and thrown in prison,” I said.

“I think I read the same story online that you did. I have thought for a long time that girls your age are capable of mature feelings and adult love. I think you are a girl who is mature enough to know what you feel and think. Your whole approach to this attraction, and your concern for me, is evidence you have adult reasoning ability.

“Would your foster parents agree to meet me and discuss how you and I could spend time together?” Mr. Turner asked.

“This is embarrassing, but I have to tell you. I’m not a virgin. I’ve been fucking my foster parent’s biological son. When you got me all hot and bothered yesterday, I went home and jumped on him. We got caught, and I think his mom, especially, is anxious to have me out of her house.

“Three things I need to know: One, is my not being a virgin is a deal breaker for you? Two, do you feel like you need a test drive before committing to marry me? AND, three, how would you feel if I wanted to test drive you?” I asked.

“I’m not a virgin, so it wouldn’t be fair for me to expect you to be one. It does let me know you are the kind of girl I like, and by that, I mean a girl who is in touch with her body and her feelings, and who knows what she likes. Since I don’t know you yet, on the surface, the test drive idea seems good. However, I think it would be confusing and could lead to falling in love for a few months. You are too pretty to fall in love with for just one night. When we know each other, I think our feelings will be clear, and we’ll know without test drives,” He said, and he gave me a smile that made my knees feel rubbery.

“Philosophically I agree with you. If we suddenly realize we are in love one day and we are alone, I don’t see myself wanting to wait until all the proper ink stains have dried on all the proper lines. Could you live with me being impulsive? It would only happen if we had an epiphany and realized we were both in love. I know from what I’ve been doing that I don’t want one night stands or friends with benefits,” I said.

“I can’t see myself forcing you to do or not do anything Amanda,” Mr. Turner said.

“I’ll setup things for you to meet the Connors and then we can all talk it over,” I said.

“Just so you know, I’m going to suggest that you come out on my sailboat for a weekend and we go visit some places around the bay. If we are good at working together, then we could try going out the Golden Gate and sailing in the Pacific, if the weather is good. If we can do that, then we are going to be sure we are compatible. If I know what I’m doing skippering the boat, we should have a chance for some romantic moments that will make it clear how we truly feel about each other,” He said.

“Oh, I’ve never been on any kind of boat. I hope I’m not seasick or some other kind of disappointment,” I said.

“It will be fine, and so will you,” He said.

“OK, I’ll have Mr. Connor call you if he is willing to talk with you. I suppose I should have your number for that to happen. I promise not to put it in my phone and make inappropriate calls or send inappropriate pics,” I said.

He grinned at me and handed me a business card with his number on it. I saw his first name on the card and grinned at him.

“What?” He asked.

“Are you?” I replied.

“Am I what?” He sounded confused.

“Randy. Are you randy?” I asked, grinning at him.

“Oh, well, Randy is my name. At some more appropriate time, you can decide for yourself if the proper noun becomes a correctly descriptive adjective,” He said, smiling at me in that way that made me feel hot inside.

“I better go, so I don’t get you in trouble. I’ll just give you something to think about. From my experiences so far, I know that if I am in love with you, the adjective that is a homophone with your name will describe me very, very accurately,” I said, giving him a wink, as I walked out the door.

I went to my locker, got the books I needed for homework, and walked home. I went to my room, and didn’t tempt Reggie. I immersed myself in school work, and didn’t even hear Mrs. Connors come home. She asked me to help her get dinner on the table, and I tried to be as helpful as possible.

After dinner, I asked if I could talk to Mr. & Mrs. Connors. They looked puzzled, but agreed.

“I need to apologize to you both. I made some bad decisions because I’m shy and insecure about my looks. I took advantage of Reggie, and I shouldn’t have done that. I have to tell you that he’s very responsible, and took me to the Free Clinic for birth control. We had an agreement to be exclusive, so we wouldn’t risk giving each other an STI, so even though it wasn’t a good idea for me to ask Reggie to satisfy my needs, we were pretty responsible about what we did.

“The reason I got so out of control yesterday is because I think I fell in love with my Physics teacher, but I didn’t know it at the time, and I reacted very badly, again, taking advantage of Reggie.

“I don’t want to have a stupid affair with my teacher and get him thrown in jail because I tempted him. There is a loophole that allows a girl my age to be emancipated and then petition a judge to waive the normal age of consent and allow me to get married. If we were married, it would be legal for us to have sex.

“The only way for us to know if we really are in love is to be able to spend time together. I’d like you to meet my teacher, and if you agree that he isn’t trying to exploit me, I’d like your permission to spend time with him, so we can be sure of our feelings. I don’t want to bother a judge if this is just a schoolgirl crush, and I certainly don’t want to be married if my strong emotions are going to go away,” I said.

“I had no idea you were so mature, Amanda. I can see how you would be confused. Now that I’ve had time to think, I realize that you have done something really good for Reggie. He was getting too much into porn, and it’s a lot better for him to be having real sex with a real girl, and hopefully learning how to behave like a gentleman. I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Mrs. Connors said.

I handed Mr. Turner’s card to Mr. Connors and said, “Could you please call him and set up a time for him to meet you?”

“Oh, you might not know this, but Mr. Turner is pretty well off. There was an article about him in the Mercury News. He wouldn’t have to work at all if he didn’t want to. He teaches school because he likes to. He has to take a salary because of state laws. They think they can control a teacher’s behavior if they are on salary. He donates his salary to the school foundation, which buys stuff the school budget won’t cover. The foundation pretty much built the science wing at your school,” Mr. Connors said.

He picked up his phone and dialed the number on the business card.

“Hi, Mr. Turner. This is Frank Connors, Amanda’s foster father. We just had quite an interesting conversation, and I realized she’s a lot more mature than she looks. My wife and I would be happy to meet with you and talk about how to accomplish your goals ethically and legally,”

There was a short pause, then Mr. Connors said, “Why don’t you join us for dinner at 6:00 tomorrow?”

Another pause, then Mr. Connors said, “We look forward to seeing you then,” The call ended abruptly.

“Since you might be falling in love with Mr. Turner, I don’t think it would be right for you to continue having a physical relationship with Reggie. Do you agree?” Mrs. Connors asked.

“No, it wouldn’t be ethical to keep up a relationship with Reggie.

“Please don’t let Reggie know I told you this, but Mr. Connors, Reggie’s equipment is a little small. I think it may be part of a hormonal thing that goes along with him having a bigger tummy than most boys and not having any body hair. The reason I’m telling you this is because I’m a tiny girl, and he never made me feel full, so I didn’t feel emotionally satisfied, even though he always helped me have an orgasm. He was always very sweet to me, and he deserves a girl who loves him and feels satisfied by him,” I said.

“Was it length or girth that was the problem?” Mr. Connors asked.

“Both, really. He is just a little too short to make some pleasant positions work. Girth was the bigger problem for me in terms of feeling filled and satisfied. It also made him slip out a lot, which breaks the mood for a girl,” I said.

“Thank you for telling me, and not hurting his feelings about it. I’ll make sure he sees a doctor to check on his hormone levels and a urologist to see if there is an effective enlargement treatment,” Mr. Connors said.

“Reggie read books and magazine articles about how to do things to please a girl, and he was always considerate and helped me have an orgasm, usually more than once, but I always felt guilty that I didn’t appreciate him more, because I never felt quite full. I’ve only been with Reggie, so I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think I’m a size queen. I never have fantasies about a guy being huge like a horse, or even like a porn star, for that matter,” I said.

“I’m afraid that must come from my side of the family. After I married Frank, I shared with my mom how wonderfully full Frank made me feel on our honeymoon. Since I had become a married woman, mom felt she could confide in me, and she complained to me about my dad not making her feel filled up. I know exactly the feeling you are talking about Amanda. I have always felt our marriage was as good as it is because Frank always gives me everything I need and I never felt empty or unfulfilled,” Mrs. Connors said.

“I just hope there is something that can be done to help Reggie, because he really does his best to be a good lover, and his efforts ought to get him the admiration and love of a really great girl,” I said.

I went back to my room and finished my homework. I had trouble sleeping, but Reggie was off limits to me now. I wondered if all the talk about sex had gotten Mr. Connors worked up. I was glad he didn’t try to sneak into my bedroom, because he just wasn’t the kind of man that excited me. I finally got to sleep, but it was a night of tossing and turning. I had lots of strange dreams. I didn’t feel rested when my alarm went off and I had to get up to get ready for school.

My day dragged. I was careful not to let my excitement show when I got to Mr. Turner’s room for my last class of the day. I tried to concentrate on mass and velocity formulas and not stare at my teacher’s package, but I was starting to realize that I was thinking about a lot more than his handsome face and hunky body. I was imagining our life together in the future, not just planning how to seduce him, so I’d get laid on Friday night.

Mr. Turner was right though, we really didn’t know each other, and it very well could be simple lust. I was glad the Connors had calmed down about my fucking Reggie, and that they agreed to meet Mr. Turner to talk about how we could get to know each other without my teacher getting arrested.

I said goodbye to Mr. Turner after class. As I was about to leave for my locker, he asked what Mrs. Connors would like for a “hostess gift.” I said, “Fetzer Sundial Chardonnay,” without even needing to think about it.

Mr. Turner chuckled and nodded his head.

We said goodbye like there was nothing going on. I went to my locker, got the books I needed for homework that night, and walked home.

Mrs. Connors came home from work early and made a nice dinner. I helped her and then set the table.

“I sent Reggie to have dinner at a video gaming friend’s house, so he won’t be a distraction or a cause for embarrassment. Also, I didn’t want him to see Mr. Turner and get depressed that you want a grown man instead of him,” Mrs. Connors said.

She smiled at me and asked, “What are you planning to wear?”

“What I wore to school,” I said.

“If you want Mr. Turner to put in the time and trouble it will take to get your legal situation fixed, you might want to think about blowing him away. I’m not saying you should dress like a prostitute, but you might want to show off your body just enough to let him see a preview of what he will get out of the deal.

“When you wear your hair smooth and straight, it makes you look more grownup. I’d think about whether putting my hair in braids might fire his imagination about what it would be like to be with a fourteen-year-old girl. I’m not saying he’s a pedophile, but if he leans that direction, it couldn’t hurt to play to his fantasies, so he’s motivated to do what needs to be done,” Mrs. Connors said.

“I never thought of that. I feel so stupid,” I said.

“No, you’re not the type to think of “catching” a man. Women were more calculating and devious when I was in High School,” Mrs. Connors said.

“Should I go with Daisy Dukes and tie up a blouse to show my middle, or would that black skirt from last year that I had to stop wearing because it barely covers my bottom, be better?” I asked.

“I think the skirt is best. Why don’t you wear your bikini top from last year too? It is too small for you, so it will show off your breasts nicely. Oh, and Amanda, wear a thong if you have one. If not, go commando,” Mrs. Connors said.

“Why are you giving me advice on how to get Mr. Turner hot for me?” I asked.

“Because somehow, your body stopped being a little girl’s and went right into being a sexually mature woman’s, overnight, with hardly any stop over at adolescence. I understand the craving you feel, and it’s safer if you can have a love and marriage relationship to make having sex legal. I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to leave Reggie alone if things stay the same, and you might be tempted to go after Frank, after our talk the other day revealed he has the size you have in mind,” Mrs. Connors said.

“I think I could be more principled than that, but I do appreciate the advice,” I told her.

I went upstairs, showered, braided my hair into two pigtail braids, and put on the tiny black skirt and the emerald green bikini top. I tied the strings of the bikini bra a little loosely, so the top might leave a gap and show my breasts when I leaned forward. I only had white bikini panties for every day, and grannie panties to keep my pad in place during my period, so I went commando. I went downstairs just in time to answer the door when Mr. Turner rang the bell.

I enjoyed having his eyes on my body, and I got flushed from my face down to my tits. My pussy started drooling over him because he was so good looking. That made me blush, so I said, “Please come in, Mr. Turner.”

He laughed and said, “You can call me by my first name when we aren’t at school, Amanda.”

As he came inside, he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on my lips. I nearly passed out from all the feelings that cascaded into me and then raced through my body. First, I felt so small, and he seemed so big and tall, engulfing me in his arms. Then I felt hot, apprehensive, excited, horny, what I think being in love feels like, and something I never felt before; I realized I wanted to be his. I wanted to be his girlfriend, his lover, his companion, his wife, in short, his everything.

The most important feeling was my deep desire to belong to him. That bothered me, and I knew I was going to have to process that feeling, because I never have enjoyed being bossed around or felt even a tiny submissive desire. The whole concept of being owned was something I found revolting.