Chapter 8

The rest of Sunday morning was taken up with chores. Rory attacked the cyclone-hit disaster of her room, collecting dirty clothes for laundering - her job. I mowed the lawn, front and back, then set about cleaning the interior, vacuuming and dusting, washing the kitchen, and washing the bathrooms.

It was mindless work I enjoyed. I liked a neat and clean house. And it let me think about Rory. She made me smile. She was bouncing on her feet, full of energy and smiles; altogether, a very happy girl. For the first time, she hadn’t complained about cleaning her bedroom or doing the laundry.

Amazing what a bit of sexual relief can do.

I tried to worry about where our relationship might go, but couldn’t. The one doubt I’d had, a worry about how it might affect her, had been washed away by her gasps of pleasure this morning. Selfishly, I wanted to experience more of her sexy climaxes. Could there be anything more beautiful than a young girl cumming?

With the second bathroom sparkling, I wiped my brow, collected the cleaner, mop and bucket, and headed to the kitchen for a cool bottle of water.

Rory was at the kitchen table, leaning back in the chair, and chatting away on her cell phone. She let out a short laugh. “I’m not kidding.” She glanced at me, blushed lightly as she smiled, and said into the phone, “It was amazing! I can’t wait to do it again.”

A bolt of fear hit me. Who was she confiding in?

“Yeah. Tomorrow. Okay. See ya there at ten.” Rory put the Smartphone on the table.

“We need to talk,” I informed her.

“Kay. Why?”

“Who were you talking to?”

“Susie. Why?”

“Were you telling her about us?”

Rory laughed. “Is that what you think? Relax. I’m not stupid. I was talking about the new H&M store in town.” Then, with an amused shake of her head, she added, “I’m not doing anything to risk us. It’s too good.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

She stood and came to me. Arms slipping around my waist, she rose on tiptoes and said, “Give me a kiss. You’ll feel better.”

I combed her thick, dark hair back, studied her pretty face, wondered how I could be so lucky, and kissed her. It was a soft kiss, full of affection, and it stirred my blood again. Kissing Rory was such an illicit pleasure and could she kiss! Her lips moved, pressure, and she murmured, “Mmmm.”

My heart was thumping when it ended. I grinned. “I taught you well, grasshopper.”

Rory returned my grin, just more impish. “You need practice.” With a bright laugh, she let me go. “And I’m hungry. It’s lunch time. Want a sandwich?”

Finally grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I asked, “What are you making?”

Rory nudged me away from the refrigerator and peered in. “Ham. With lettuce and tomato. Want some?”

“No thanks.”

“You sure?” she asked, carrying the makings to the counter.

“Uh-huh.”

I didn’t like her sandwiches. Rory regarded mayonnaise as a food group; the main ingredient carried by bread and ham. I watched her slather it on both slices of bread, then lick the knife clean. Ham, tomato, and lettuce were casually tossed on the bread, the sandwich closed, cut in half, and she took a big bite.

“Mmmm.” She looked at me and held the sandwich out. “Wanna try?”

“No.”

“Your loss.”

Her tongue emerged to wipe a dollop of mayo on her lip.

RORY COULDN’T REMEMBER BEING so happy. She felt like dancing and couldn’t stop smiling. Sunday was passing too fast. It was already past four.

She glanced over at Ethan reading a book. He’d put his glasses back on and looked very professorial in a Robert Redford kinda way.

She still basked in the glow of her climax, the memory so strong. Nothing in her imagination had come close to the utter pleasure she’d experienced this morning. The relief that there wasn’t something wrong with her was liberating. Climaxes! She’d been missing so much!

Sitting quietly on the sofa, she tried to understand what was different this time, what made her cum. Was it feeling Ethan’s erection against her pussy? It was so hard, surprisingly hard. Or was it the way he held her gently? With a flush of warmth, she remembered his whispers when her body had hit the wall and tensed, frustration emerging. He’d said he dreamed of making love to her and how much he wanted her and her climax had exploded, uncontrollable, utter bliss.

Rory sighed to herself. All day she’d flirted with him and he’d responded every time, welcoming her hugs and kisses. She’d suffered from constant arousal, and even had to change her panties twice! This new intimacy with Ethan was thrilling. It made everything sharper and more enjoyable, even doing the laundry.

Rory shifted on the sofa again. She was still horny, her pussy throbbing.

By bedtime, she was aching. In bed, she let her mind relive kissing Ethan goodnight. Then it turned to this morning, sitting on his lap and feeling his erection under her.

She groaned quietly in the dark, excited, and touched her breast over her pajama top, squeezing gently, rubbing her aching nipple. Heat rushed down to her pussy. Reaching down, with her other hand, she pushed inside her panties, over her soft pubes, and cupped herself. Small pulses of pleasure washed through her. With familiarity, she curled her middle finger, the tip easing into her slit, finding slippery moisture and drawing it up, her heart beating faster.

A shiver hit when she caressed her clit, pleasure coursing through her, and, eyes closed, she replayed humping Ethan’s erection, the excitement, the thrill. She rubbed her clit faster, hips moving, and tried to picture Ethan cumming as she humped his shaft. What would it look like? What would it feel like when he spurted? Warm and wet?

Panting, perspiration forming on her brow, she strove for sweet release, closer, closer, so close. She rubbed her clit faster, harder, and nothing; just agony and frustration! Why!

Anger hit. What was wrong with her?!

Her body ached for release. It was painful and frustrating and annoying. Damn! Damn!

An idea flashed. Before she could talk herself out of it, she rolled out of bed and walked down the hall to Ethan’s open door. Expecting him to be asleep, she saw him awake, eyes open, looking at her. Moonlight cast interesting shadows and angles on his face.