Chapter 3

I slept in and when I woke, I wasn’t sure if I was refreshed or not. Saturday had taken a lot out of me, physically and emotionally, and falling asleep so late didn’t help. No complaints, but I knew it would take a while to get going on Sunday. That was fine with me. I had decided the first week that I wouldn’t work on the weekends in order to give me time to recover.

I showered, shaved and dressed, then found my way to the kitchen where Kayla was cooking some eggs. She offered to make some for me, as well, but I let her sit down to eat and put together an omelet. While I waited for my eggs to cook, I watched her at the table, fork in one hand with the other ready to turn the page on a thick textbook. No free time at all.

She wasn’t wearing her typical workout gear, and instead had on an old sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off; her hair was loose and down and she had on hiking shorts. It was the first time I’d seen her dressed that way. I was about to turn back to my eggs when she turned the page. Normally, turning a page would be pretty unremarkable. However, the armholes for her sweatshirt were enormous and when she turned the page, she straightened her arm completely. That left me a straight shot view into the sleeve of her top. She wasn’t wearing a bra. I knew this because I could clearly see the soft flesh of her tit.

I flipped my eggs and waited for her to read another page. Half way down the page, I turned down the heat on my eggs. The anticipation was killing me. She hesitated at the end of the page and then straightened her arm to turn it, paused with her arm outstretched, giving me a perfect view for two, maybe three seconds. She flipped the page, I flipped my omelet, then realized I’d already done that once and slid it onto my plate.

I couldn’t believe I had done that. What next, a mirror on my shoe to look up her skirt? To be fair, she had much nicer tits than I would have expected. They were small, like her mom’s, perhaps a bit bigger, but the shape was the same. As I sat down next to her an unspoken sentence went through my mind, “You know, you have your mother’s tits,” and I laughed out loud. She looked up at me and must have thought I was looney.

“What’s your book?” I asked, pointing at her textbook with my fork.

“It’s for school, AP Biology.”

“You’re not taking summer classes,” I observed. She was halfway through the book.

“No, it’s for fall. I like to get ahead in my tough classes. If I can wade through this one in time, I’ll read my book for AP English Lit before school starts, too. Oh, man, look at the time. I gotta go,” she said, marking her spot and standing.

“What are your plans for the day?”

“Jessie is picking me up to go horseback riding. When Mom gets up, tell her I went with Jessie to ride at Smokey’s, please.”

She rinsed her plate and I watched her, again catching sight of her tits through the armhole. I couldn’t let her go riding like that, but how did I convey that? I ran a couple of approaches through my mind, decided I needed to let Amanda do it and gobbled down the last of my omelet.

She walked out of the kitchen in a hurry and I began to panic until she called back over her shoulder, “Don’t worry, Danny. I’m going to change tops. I would never accidentally flash my boobs at anyone.”

Well, that’s a good thing. Wait. That meant two things. One, she knew she’d been flashing her boobs at me, and two, it wasn’t an accident. How was I supposed to respond to that? I hollered after her a loud, “Thank you.” Let her figure out if I meant thank you for your modesty or thank you for the show or both. I meant both. She was trouble, the kind of trouble that brought a smile to my face.

Ten minutes later, Kayla was gone and I rapped on Amanda’s door. She mumbled something and I eased it open. “I brought you some breakfast,” I said, bringing her a tray with an omelet, toast and coffee.

Shifting back so she could sit up and lean against the headboard, she asked, “What time is it? Where’s Kayla?”

“It’s after ten and she just went with Jessie to go horseback riding. I didn’t think to ask how long she’d be gone.” She took the tray and I sat on the edge of her bed.

She took a sip of coffee and then another. “She’s gone riding with Jessie before. Her family has horses. She won’t be back before three and probably closer to dinner.” She took a bite of her omelet and saw me smiling.

“How soon,” I asked, sort of meaning it, but not really expecting it. We’d spent a lot of time in bed the day before.

She stopped eating and looked at me seriously. “You don’t actually have to get me caught up for all the years I’ve missed, you know.”

“It’s good to have goals, though, right?”

She laughed and continued eating. Then, between bites, “It’s good to have goals. Let me finish breakfast and wash up. Then we’ll take bedding and everything down to the guesthouse.” She took another long sip of coffee and smiled, her mood slowly warming to the day. “Got anything new to show me?”

When we got to the guesthouse, we checked the beds in each room until we found the one we liked, a firm king-sized bed. I brought curtains in from one of the other bedrooms and hung them, then went back to the house to get the strap while she picked out pillows. I grabbed her panties, too, thought better of it, and stuffed them back under my pillow.

Walking back to the guesthouse I ran a variety of positions through my mind. Some were amazing and very pleasurable but most of them required a degree of flexibility I doubted Amanda had. One particularly good one came to mind. I made a detour to the tool shed to pick up a stool I’d seen gathering dust, wiped it off in the kitchen, and made my way to the bedroom where Amanda was laying on the bed with nothing on but a smile.

“Steve, is that you?” she asked.

“Steve should leave now if he knows what’s good for him.” She sat up and looked at the stool, and I explained it to her as I disrobed. We kissed and I explored her body some, but she was clearly ready.

I stood with my back to the wall, the stool to my left, the leading edge slightly ahead of where my feet were firmly planted. She stood on the stool with her back to me and then lifted her right leg. I placed the strap under her thigh and hiked her leg up to be even with my waist then passed it to her when she reached over my shoulder with her right. I slid my left hand around her, holding her as she got situated.

The position is called Sagittarius and I particularly liked it. My hands were free to roam and with tiny calf raises, I got to control the speed and depth. I clutched her to me with my left and cupped her right breast gently, then bent my knees and used my left hand to guide myself into her. The angle was very different and she gasped as I entered. When I was completely inside and had made a couple of slow pumps, she told me she liked it. I held her belly with my right hand, pulling her tight against me. The worst thing about this position would be for me to bend my knees too much and slide out. It would take too long to get back in.

I started slowly to let her adjust to the position. We kissed sort of cheek to cheek, perhaps the weakest part of the position. One of the best aspects was that I could totally dial into her breathing; I could hear her breathing so well because she was at the same height as I was, and I could feel her breathing, too. I love the sound of an excited woman and this position was the absolute best way to treat myself in that regard. In the guesthouse, and with Kayla gone, she knew she could let go and make noise and she did. As her orgasm song began to build, I let my right hand slide down her belly and I began to work her clit. I gently pinched and tugged her nipple with my left. The combination of me deep inside, thrusting hard, furiously working her clit, and pinching her nipple sent her over the top, way over the top.

When she came, she convulsed hard and would have bent double, but I restrained her, holding her tightly with my hands. By clutching her like that, she enjoyed increased muscle tension or maybe frustration as her body came against my hands. I came, too, and it was definitely very good, but the power of her orgasm was overwhelming. I could feel it as her pussy pulsed and her body strained against my hands. Combine that with her wonderful odor and distinctive orgasm song, and it was electric.

I released her slowly, and she lowered her right leg to the stool, then stepped down. She staggered to the bed and collapsed. “Holy crap, Danny, that was amazing. Who taught you this stuff? Damn that was nice.”

I joined her on the bed and propped up on my left, letting my right hand stroke her body. “Like that, huh?”

“What’s not to like? I think I felt a little of what the appeal of bondage might be, because straining against you and not being able to bend forward was intense. The angle was different, too, and that was nice. There was something else, but you’ll think it’s crazy.”

“Try me.”

“My body was facing the room.”

I didn’t understand. “Yes, and?”

“Well, even though there’s no one here, someone could have come in, do you know? It’s like I felt exposed, that if someone came in, you had me trapped and there would have been nothing I could do. That was kind of exciting, too. Does that seem strange?”

“No, not at all. I can understand that. Did you imagine someone coming in?”

“No, and thank god for that. But the possibility made it more exciting.”

“Got it. Next weekend, public bondage. We’ll really get you off.”

“Ha-ha. You’re going to have to get one of your other conquests to try that on.”

“Hey, that’s not what this is,” I said, a little hurt by that. “You are in no way a conquest, not by a long shot.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I guess it’s just that you have so much more experience than I do. Maybe I’m a little jealous.”

“Well, don’t be. Previous experience was simply preparation and practice so that I can treat you right.”

“Boy, you really made that sound good. In that case, I’m pretty glad you had some good practice.” She leaned into me and we kissed for a long time, slow and easy.

I explained to her what I liked about the last position; how she felt in my hands, how she looked and how she sounded. I told her how very special it was for me to share that with her.

“You talk about my experience but what that does is make me appreciate you more. You look good, your scent, and know that I mean this, you smell amazing. You can give me a hard-on just by how you smell. You feel good in my hands and straining against me, wow, and when you start singing the orgasm song, I come undone.”

“The orgasm song. That’s funny. I hope I was on key. That felt very, very nice. Toys can only do so much. You’re a good lover, Danny.”

“I know you think I have all kinds of experience but I don’t. I have had some very enjoyable sex with a few enthusiastic and sometimes creative partners. I have not made love that often. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes. Even better. For me, I mean.”

The entire time we were talking, she was getting hotter and hotter. I got the strap and we eased into a second round in the sitting, facing position that was so intimate. We took a very long time, and the slow build led to a powerful orgasm for each of us.

I thought we were finished for the day but as we lay there, talking, she began to leisurely stroke me, and one thing led to another. I put the stool next to the bed and she stood on it, faced the bed, and put her hands down on the mattress. I took her from behind. It was very hard and fast and she didn’t cum but told me it was okay. I didn’t like that, but she was convincing.

We talked about plans for the coming week. We knew the guesthouse needed air freshener and a second set of sheets. We needed to air out the refrigerator, plug it in and stock it with drinks and furnish the other bedrooms so it didn’t look like our love nest was special for any reason. We talked about cues we might use if we knew Kayla was going to be early or anything else that might change our pattern. We couldn’t skip morning workouts, no matter how late we stayed up, and I had to stay on track with the room addition. All those things were simple to say but maybe not so easy to do. At least we had a plan.

I considered it a minute and then told Amanda about Kayla that morning. I told her how she wore a revealing top and what she said when she left. I didn’t tell her that her fifteen-year-old daughter gave me a hard on, again.

“So, she was showing off for you?”

“That’s what it seemed like. She only wore that top to breakfast and then changed right afterward.”

“And Kayla having breakfast at nine-thirty isn’t normal either. So, yeah, she was showing off. Did it have the desired effect?”

“You mean, did I enjoy her little show?”

“Yup.”

“Yup. She’s a cutie, what can I say? She takes after her mom.”

“Nice try. Well, she’s already felt you hard, the other morning so she does know you’re a guy. She’s also at the age where sex is the final frontier and she wants to go exploring. I could say something to her, but I think it was pretty harmless.”

“That’s my take. I’ve had students younger than her try to rub up against me, just exploring, and that’s all it was.”

“All right. I’m not going to say anything to her. That would make both of us bad guys in her eyes. This way, you two have your little secret and she doesn’t need to know that I know. If she escalates it though, you need to tell me, okay.”

“That sounds good. She’s not active?”

“Sexually? Not that I know of. She’s had a couple of guys try, but they didn’t get anywhere and she told me about it afterwards. I can read her pretty well, too. I think I’d know. She is on the pill, but that’s to keep her regular. Otherwise, her athletics wreaks havoc on her cycle.”

With all that settled, we cleaned up our love nest and threw the bedding in the wash, without detergent, something else we’d need to bring to the guesthouse. We took a walk down the driveway and I showed Amanda where I thought a sign might go and where I would run a cable for electricity, and she was agreeable. I think she would have been agreeable to just about anything right then.

We walked back to the house and talked about our story for the day, should Kayla ask. Reading seemed like a legitimate answer to that question in the future, if we were unprepared otherwise. Believable and hard to prove it wasn’t true. She pulled some meat out of the freezer and ran some water over it to defrost. We grabbed a couple of beers and relaxed on the back deck.

In light shorts and tank top, she presented a great profile on the lounge chair next to me.

“You look good, Amanda.” She turned to face me to see what brought that on. “I mean it. You look really good.”

“I’m prettier with the just fucked smile?”

“No. Yes. No, I mean, that’s not it. I mean you’re really pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me try again. That was really lame. You are truly beautiful. That’s what I meant to say.”

“Feeling a little guilty for ogling my daughter?”

“Maybe I should, but that’s not it. You are beautiful and you’re attractive.”

“Thank you,” she said hoisting her beer in salute. “But aren’t those the same?”

“Beauty and attractiveness? No, not to me. I live at the beach and see a lot of women wearing very little. Not too many are attractive to me even though a lot of them are pretty, even beautiful. You are both.”

“That is nice. I’m glad you think so.”

“It’s kind of dangerous, really,” I said without thinking about it very much, but it got her curiosity up.

“How so?”

“Well, if you were just beautiful and I didn’t think you were attractive, then one thing wouldn’t have led to another and we wouldn’t be thinking about sex all the time.”

“I don’t think about sex all the time.”

“I’m a guy. I would think about it all the time anyway, but because you’re both beautiful and attractive, I think about sex with you all the time. That’s what’s dangerous.”

“Gotcha. That’s nice, too.”

“Women I’ve had sex with before, there were a couple of standouts. They would come to mind more frequently than others. I don’t think they will any more. I think you will have replaced them in my fantasies.”

“That’s nice, too.”

“You don’t really know what I mean, do you?”

“Maybe not.”

I decided to be both blunt and honest. “I mean when I get home and go back to work and wake up in my bed alone, I won’t be thinking about them.” She turned to look at me, perhaps to judge if I was being serious or just saying nice things. “You will be the subject of my fantasies when I take matters into my own hands.”

“Oooh,” she said, now understanding. “Holy crap, Danny. That is fucking sexy. What time is it?”

“Just after four, why?”

“Because what you just said is getting me hot.”

I checked my watch, picked her up and carried her to my room. Then, without getting undressed I gave her a licking and she came very quickly. I washed my face and gargled so that Kayla wouldn’t smell her mom on me, and checked my watch.

“That’s what I mean by being dangerous. I’ll check that she’s not here and you can get dressed while I prep dinner.”

“Whatever you say.”

“No fooling. If we don’t want to get caught. Whatever is defrosting, I hope a little garlic is in order.”

“Why?”

“We need to mask the scent of sex,” I said smiling and she rolled her eyes at me.

Ten minutes later, she joined me in the kitchen and we agreed that we had pushed it too close just as Kayla walked in. That little scare cemented our list of rules. It had ushered in the beginning of a plan for us. Friday nights and Saturdays were our marathon sessions, and we would sneak away on a couple of nights per week for alternately long, slow lovemaking or hard and fast sex. We didn’t really plan it that way. It just sort of evolved, and as long as Kayla didn’t catch on, all was good.

On the other, less interesting front, the addition was coming along nicely, and whenever there was a slowdown because of a contractor or weather, I’d tackle another chore. Amanda and Kayla focused on the interiors of both houses. Our lifting and martial arts lessons moved along just as well. We followed Kayla’s plan for lifting, and they followed mine for martial arts. They were both fast learners, especially with devoting nearly an hour a day to it. We avoided wrestling around on the mat, and I picked up a jock strap at the sporting goods store in town so that even if we did, I might keep the beast under control.

It had been three weeks since our first Saturday together. It had also been three weeks since Kayla gave me a little show and she hadn’t repeated it, and then she did. One Saturday morning, she had a late breakfast again and we met in the kitchen. She had done something to the top to make it even more revealing and it took me a few minutes to figure out what it was. She had taken it in at the seams, making it fit more tightly but she had left the armholes very large, or even enlarged them.

She gave me wonderful views of both breasts, lingering in positions where she knew I could see her. On top of that, she was wearing her volleyball shorts. If that weren’t enough, she had used very little seasoning on our eggs and didn’t fix toast. The kitchen had produced very little in the way of odor, but she had, and boy, had she. She was giving me a show and she was excited to do so. I soaked it in and I didn’t try very hard to hide it. If she was going to give me a show, I was going to enjoy it. She knew I was looking anyway.

Both of us took much longer to eat breakfast than was necessary and Kayla must have read three chapters of biology or maybe the same chapter three times. I had no excuse, but I wasn’t going to hurry. Is this what Amanda meant when she said, let me know if she steps it up? Probably. When Kayla finally got up from breakfast, she put her hands on the table and leaned forward. I knew she was providing the view of the day, her top gaping open, but I held her eyes.

“I hope you enjoyed breakfast. I have to get ready for volleyball practice,” she said.

I let my eyes drop down where she wanted me to and got a great look at her very fine tits, the stark white inside her tan lines, and her now stiff nipples, I said, “Breakfast was particularly enjoyable this morning. Thank you very much.”

She hadn’t expected that and almost blushed, but she’s the one who put them on display. I stayed seated. To stand would have raised a flag and we would have had more to talk about than breakfast. She was about to respond, thought about it a moment, and then simply said, “You’re very welcome. Anytime.” And she left.

Holy shit.

Once she was gone, Amanda and I went out to the guesthouse and I gave her a good solid dose of straight, hard sex, and then I did it again. We settled down for the third go and took our time.

When we finished our third go, the nice slow love making session, Amanda asked, “So, what’s up, stud?” Busted.

I lay there staring at the ceiling for a few moments, contemplating how to deal with that, and couldn’t come up with anything even remotely palatable. “That was nice,” I said lamely.

“Nice? Nice? Daffodils in the park are nice. Goldfish are nice. You just fucked my brains out like a wild animal twice in a row, and then took me downtown with a very, very nice face to face.”

“That’s probably a pretty good characterization,” I said, stalling for time and thinking about how to change the subject.

“So, what was that all about? You obviously had some serious sexual energy to release. Where’d that come from?”

“You’re all I need to get going, baby.”

“I know that. I really do, but this was different. We just had sex for the fiftieth time in a little over three weeks. I think I know you at least a little bit by now, so give. What was that about?”

“You count? You keep track?” I asked, stunned that she would do that.

“Not only do I keep track, I write it down in my diary. And I have to tell you I’ve filled a lot more pages in my diary in the last three weeks than in the last eight years, stud. So, tell.”

I could see I wasn’t going to get out of this easily. Perhaps she could extend mercy. “Honestly, I’d rather not say.”

“Now my curiosity is really going. What could possibly be on your mind?”

“I’m embarrassed, and I feel guilty.”

“You think that’s going to go away without talking about it? Tell me about it and then let’s make love again. Sex, sex, love, love, that seems like a good mix. So?”

“I had someone else on my mind when we started. I haven’t before and don’t plan on it again, but I did and I feel badly about it.”

“So, you feel like you cheated on me, psychologically. Is that it?”

“Pretty much.” I hoped she was good with that.

“One time in three weeks and you followed that up with some pretty sweet lovemaking, so I don’t think you have to worry. Really. I think it’s pretty normal. I’m not mad at you for that.”

“You might be if you knew who,” I said without even thinking. I could have let it die but I didn’t and now I’d probably have to lay it all out and she’d probably cut off my dick with a butcher knife while I was sleeping.

“Okay, tell me who the sexpot was that got your mind all fired up and we can move on.”

I bit my lip and scrunched my eyes closed tight and wished for some sort of teleportation to work on me but when I opened my eyes, she was still there and still waiting. I’m no expert on women but I know when to hold your ground and when to give in. I gave in.

“At breakfast this morning your daughter, the sexpot, came into the kitchen with a highly modified top on. She may as well have not had a top on at all. I caught glances during breakfast. It was impossible not to. She was showcasing them. When she was ready to leave, she stood up and leaned forward so that her breasts practically fell out of her top. I looked her square in the eye and she asked me if I enjoyed breakfast, but it’s not what she meant. So, I tried to call her bluff and stared directly at her tits and told her that I had enjoyed breakfast very much.”

“I bet.”

“I thought she would be shocked or put off a little by that direct approach but I was wrong.”

“Why? How did she respond?” She didn’t seem to be mad at me.

“She said that I was welcome any time. Amanda, she sure didn’t look or act like a fifteen-year-old this morning, and I took it out on you and I feel miserable.”

She thought about this for longer than I liked and answered, “Good. You should feel miserable.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t remember when I’ve felt this badly.” She let those words hang longer than I’d like, but what could I do?

“She has upped the ante in more ways than one.”

“What do you mean? I mean, she came on pretty strong this morning and rather than chew her out, I actually sort of encouraged her.”

“I think she knows.”

“Knows what? Oh. How could she? We haven’t given her any real clues, have we?”

“No. I don’t think so, but she’s not stupid. She’s a straight A student, and that’s with her taking honors and next year’s AP classes. Something tipped her off. It must have. It sure explains our talk last night.”

“What talk? You mean you and Kayla? What did you talk about?”

“Straight up?”

“Straight up. I came clean with you. Didn’t want to but I did. What did you talk about?”

“She told me she wanted what I had.”

“And what’s that?” I asked.

She rolled over and grabbed my dick. “This.” I just looked at her either stunned or clueless or a combination of things. “She thinks we’re sleeping together. She didn’t say it straight out but everything she said made it seem like it’s what she thinks.”

“How did you handle that,” I asked.

“Oh, there’s more. She wants to have sex and she wants to have it with you. She’s trying to seduce you and it felt to me like it was working. You pounded me.” It was definitely working.

“You told her nothing doing, right? She’s fifteen.”

“Actually, I didn’t.”

“What? You’re going to, right?”

“I left it open and I’ll tell you why. How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

“Fourteen, but I had literally no adult supervision.”

“Save the excuses. How was it? Did you make love or just get your rocks off?”

“The latter. I don’t even remember her name and barely remember what she looked like.”

“Do you think it was any better for her?”

“Probably not.”

“I was fourteen. Kayla is definitely at the age to learn about sex, and she will whether I want her to or not; we both know that. I don’t want her to learn about sex, though. I want her to learn about the beauty of making love. I want her to do it with someone who loves her and will treat her right. I want her to learn with someone who knows and understands, not some teenager who just wants to get his rocks off.” I couldn’t believe where I thought this might be going. Nope. Nope. Nope.

“I’m also fairly certain that the number of virgins that marry the first person they have sex with is close to zero. She said that she wouldn’t be done with medical school until she’s twenty-five, and there will be a residency after that. She asked just when I thought she would be able to develop a meaningful relationship until then. That’s eleven years away. She’s not going to keep her knees together all that time.”

“So, you think she had a good idea?” I asked the question, not quite sure what to expect for an answer.

“I’m saying she made a pretty good argument for learning about sex from someone that meets your description. You understand the difference between making love and having sex. You have plenty of experience. You wouldn’t be getting into a relationship, and because of that, you wouldn’t break her heart. If she doesn’t learn about sex from someone like you, she’ll learn from someone else, and I don’t think I like that idea at all. At least not yet.”

“So, you’re laying it out right now, sort of sounding it out on me?”

“That’s about it.”

“And you think I’m going to be able to give a reasoned answer?”

“No. I think your dick is going to be drawn to her like it was this morning and if she continues to try to seduce you; you’ll either give in and have sex rather than making love and you’ll set a new standard for guilt. Or, you’ll do it right and teach her.”

It was crazy but logical at the same time. As a teacher and pseudo-parent for kids not much older than Kayla, I didn’t like it. As a cousin, I didn’t like it. As her mom’s lover, I didn’t like it. It was weird.

“Even if I did, I’d feel like I was cheating on you, and not just cheating on you, cheating on you with your own daughter. I don’t think I could do that even if she did try hard to seduce me.”

“Do you want to?”

“No,” I said, and meant it.

“Let me ask it a different way. Hypothetically, and this is just hypothetically, if I said it was okay and that I wouldn’t feel cheated on, and if you agreed with her reasoning and there was really no emotional stress or friction, then, hypothetically, would you want to.”