Miss Amanda Jones
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2017 by George Foxx

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Miss Amanda Jones knows what she needs and how to get it. This story pushes the limits of physics, but isn't strictly science fiction. Temporarily suspend whatever you know about physics, and just accept the possibility.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft   Fa/ft   Consensual   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Incest   Mother   Father   Daughter   Small Breasts  

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.

“We need to find a more comfortable way for us to do that, Randy. It looks like you’ll get a bad back bending down so far to kiss me; and I like having you kiss me so much, it could turn into chronic back pain,” I said.

“What did it feel like to say my name?” Randy asked.

“Being a redhead, I can’t hide it when I am flushed. If you noticed, the flush got a deeper red, and it spread all the way down to my belly button. What you can’t see is that my body responded to my saying your name just like it was extended foreplay. I have rarely felt as squishy as I do right now,” I confessed.

He smiled at me, and I wanted him to take me on the spot. Instead he said, “I think we are going to find things like that work the same way for both of us. If we find out we can live together successfully, and we get all the legal details taken care of, I think we will have lots of fun together.”

I took him into the dining room and introduced Mr. Turner to Mr. & Mrs. Connors. He shook hands with Mr. Connors and gave Mrs. Connors the bottle of Chardonnay. Mr. Connors asked Randy to call him Frank and Randy asked Frank to call him by his first name too.

I helped Mrs. Connors put the food on the table, and then I showed Randy where to sit. We passed the serving plates and dishes around and loaded up our plates. It was quiet for a while as everyone was busy eating. I don’t eat much anyway, but tonight I had a thousand butterflies in my tummy, so I ate even less than usual, and finished first.

I slid my chair right next to Randy’s and I scooted my butt so that my hip and side were pressed against him. I slid my hand under the tablecloth and rested my palm on Randy’s leg. He turned and looked at me and grinned. I hadn’t gotten fucked for over thirty-six hours, so I was feeling very horny, especially with Randy making my pussy get so wet, so I moved my hand up and slipped it over Randy’s cock. His penis was hard and sticking down one leg of his pants. I shamelessly measured the length and girth with my hand, and I looked up at him and gave him a huge, radiant smile because his cock was even bigger than what I’d daydreamed I wanted my ideal guy to have, after feeling shortchanged by Reggie. I decided it wasn’t nice to get him hard without getting him off, so I moved my hand back to just rest on his leg.

“My uncle is Chief Justice of the California Supreme Court, so if Amanda and I decide we are compatible and the age gap isn’t going to bother us, I don’t anticipate any problems getting things fixed up legally so we can get married.

“I want to keep my job and stay out of jail, so I would like for us to figure out how Amanda and I can spend time together without creating problems. Of course I want to do everything legally, and I would not ask you to do anything that would make you an accessory to a felony,” Randy said.

“Amanda, what are your goals in terms of spending time with Mr. Turner?” Mrs. Connors asked.

“I think typical dates are a waste of time. In a movie, you can’t talk, so you don’t really learn anything about each other. I’d like us to be alone together as much as possible so we can talk, find out about each other’s music and cultural tastes, cook together, clean house together, and all the stuff that shows you who the other person really is.

“I think time on his sailboat is important because sailing is important to him, and if I’m not a good crewmember, or I hate sailing, things wouldn’t work, no matter how much attraction there is. Purely physical relationships almost always fail. The mind is really responsible for 90% of the enjoyment and satisfaction of sex, so that means it’s important our brains can work together,” I said.

“I think the sailboat is going to be the safest place for you two to have time alone. If I dropped Amanda at a marina on Friday, after school and Randy dropped her off at our house on Sunday night, we probably wouldn’t have any problems,” Mr. Connors said.

“That is a lot of driving for you Frank. Are you sure you want to take on that time consuming a project?” Randy asked.

“I don’t think it will take you two very long to figure out if you belong together. I don’t expect to be driving for too many weeks. Once you make a decision, you both will have to be patient and wait for the paperwork before you act on your feelings, and that will be the most difficult time for you both; but with your connections Randy, I don’t think it will take long at all,” Frank said.

“I’m worried about legal jurisdiction. If you could get your boat more than twelve miles offshore, it wouldn’t matter if this little vixen tempted you beyond your ability to resist, but I believe if you are within the twelve-mile limit, California law applies. If you are taking a calculated risk, just how risky is it Randy?” Mrs. Connors asked.

“My goal in spending time alone with Amanda is for us to get to know each other and figure out if we can stand to live with each other for fifty plus years. Finding out if we are in love is very important. It’s not my plan to get her on the boat and force her into sex, or even to use my boat for a fornication palace. However, if we are in love and can’t wait for the wedding, I think the odds of anyone noticing sex is going on are pretty remote. My boat is 45 feet long and weighs several tons, so that even athletic love making won’t rock the boat. I have thick curtains and blinds, so no one is going to see what’s happening. The Coast Guard boards boats for safety inspections, but they tend to focus on poorly maintained boats that might be a floating safety hazard. My boat is, as they say, ‘Ship shape, and Bristol fashion,’ so I’ve never been boarded,” Randy said.

“Randy dear, they aren’t worried about you. Their concerns are all about me. I seduced their son and used him because sex with him gave me better orgasms than masturbation. They are positive that as soon as you tie up to a dock or anchor, I’ll throw myself at you. They are probably right. I’m a sexual person and I’m powerfully attracted to you. When you kissed me tonight, I wanted you to strip me naked, throw me on the floor, and do me right there on the living room carpet.

“Like we talked about, sex too soon confuses things and makes it very difficult to see the difference between lust and love. I want us to find out if we are a match. I want us to have good information and make good decisions. I will try my hardest not to tempt you to commit a felony, but I can’t promise that I’ll always be able to suppress such a big and important a part of who I am. I’m made to be a man’s dream wife. Other people would call me a total slut, but aside from dirty talk in bed, I don’t think that word has anything to add to any discussion of behavior, and it certainly isn’t an accurate description of a woman. Besides, I don’t want to be promiscuous. I want to love one man frequently and well,” I said.

Randy started laughing and Frank joined him.

“If personal philosophy was the only important thing, I’d marry you this second, Amanda,” Randy said.

We agreed that Mr. Connors would take me to Pier 39 Marina after school on Friday and Randy would bring his boat over to pick me up. He said that marina was too expensive, and besides, the sea lions climbed onto the docks and got onto the boats berthed there, then shit all over them, so he kept his boat in a different marina, far enough up the bay that the sea lions didn’t go there to haul out.

The rest of the week I had to force myself to act like Mr. Turner was just another teacher. I did dress nicer than I usually do for school. I wore skirts every day, and gave Randy an eyeful, making sure he could see under my skirt and the moist spot on the crotch of my white cotton panties. On Friday, I went in the restroom and pulled off my panties, and stuffed them in my purse, before Mr. Turner’s class. I had shaved my pubic hair completely off on Thursday night, and when I spread my legs, Randy could see up my skirt and thus, behold my naked pussy in all her shaved, hairless glory. I almost lost it when Randy suffered a coughing fit when he looked up my skirt. It was all I could do to fight down the giggle storm.

After class I smiled sweetly at Mr. Turner as I left his classroom. He said, “I don’t know how such a sweet looking girl became so evil.”

I replied, “You have no idea just how sweet I am!”

I went home and got my waterproof duffel packed for the weekend. Randy told me it is considered bad luck to bring a suitcase on a sailboat, so he dropped off the duffel on his way to school this morning. I put in a bra, several pairs of panties, an extra pair of jeans, a medium and a warm top and my fleece jacket. Randy said he had put sea boots, a pair of waterproof pants, and a waterproof jacket on the boat for me.

Frank got me to the marina a half hour before Randy pulled his boat into a slip. I jumped on, Frank waved, and Randy pulled his boat out of the marina. He was using a diesel (I could smell it) engine for power, and he didn’t have the sails up.

As I watched Randy, I noticed that there were two throttle levers with black knobs on the end. I knew they were throttle levers, because when Randy pushed them forward the boat went faster. There were two levers with a red knob on the end. They were pushed toward the front of the boat, so I thought that they must control the transmission, and probably had selections for forward, neutral, and reverse. Each engine needed to have its own transmission, so that explained the two control levers.

Reggie had been interested in RC tanks, and I knew you could turn very quickly if you put one track in forward and the other in reverse, so I was guessing you could do the same thing with a twin engine boat. I got tired of standing beside the helm seat in the pilothouse, so I tried to wiggle into the chair next to Randy. He grinned at me and moved as close to the left side as he could. My little butt slid right in beside him.

“I’ll be good and try not to distract you, because I can see there are lots of big ships zipping around the bay,” I said.

“I want to get through the Golden Gate before sunset and far enough out in the ocean so the waves aren’t so big. I get too focused. Sorry. I’ll try to explain what I’m doing,” Randy said.

I pointed at the black ball levers and said, “I think those are throttles, and that your boat has two engines. I think the red ball levers control the transmissions so you can have forward, neutral, and reverse.”

“Yes, they are basic motorboat controls and pretty intuitive for anybody who knows anything about engines,” Randy said.

“How fast will your boat go?” I asked.

“About 9 knots. Because there aren’t any landmarks on the open ocean, we have to think about where we are in terms of the latitude, longitude grid we superimpose on the globe. We mark off the grid in degrees and minutes. One minute of latitude equals one nautical mile, or 6,080 feet. Since the nautical mile is longer than a statute mile, which is 5,280 feet, 9 knots is a little faster than 9 miles per hour.

“Now your question about how fast the boat will go is the kind of thing people who live on land and have to get places at a scheduled time think about. When I’m on the ocean, I think more about how far I went that day and that trip, and just enjoy the view along the way. When you can’t see land, speed doesn’t mean a lot, as long as it’s fast enough to give a nice breeze and keep you cool,” Randy explained.

He showed me the AIS system display that showed all the ships operating on the bay. There was information about how big the ship was, how fast it was going, and of course the position icon showed where the ship was relative to Randy’s boat.

I could tell Randy had a bit of an attitude about sailboats vs motorboats, so I tried to make sure I didn’t ask questions that implied I wanted to be moving faster.

“What’s her name?” I asked.

“It’s physics humor. It’s actually terrible. No one ever gets it. I called her “Quark Quark.” Randy said.

“Oh, like a duck, Quack Quack, but sub atomic particles. Pretty clever.” I said.

“Wow, you are the first person to figure it out without an explanation.” Randy said.

Next, he showed me his main navigation display. It is a screen like a computer monitor. It has a chart that is the background of the display. The GPS system tells the display where the chart needs to be on the screen. The chart has all kinds of stuff on it, like the depth of the water and if there is junk or a wreck on the bottom, and how high it sticks up. It shows the channels the ships have to follow so they don’t run aground.

The GPS shows the position of the boat in the middle of the screen. The radar returns are displayed on top of everything, so if there is an obstacle, it shows up on the screen. This is very helpful at night or in the fog. Randy said he could also adjust the angle of the antenna so he could look at clouds and see how serious a thunderstorm is. It will also show if a thunderstorm is becoming a tornado. The radar return looks like a fishhook or a letter “J.” A tornado over the ocean is called a water spout.

Sitting next to Randy I noticed that he smelled nice. It was a clean scent, but there was no obvious soap or aftershave fragrance I could identify. I knew I must be very receptive to his pheromones, and that must be what was influencing my brain, which in turn was heating up my body.

Randy had steered out from Pier 39 so Alcatraz Island was on the right, or starboard side, but he didn’t go straight out toward the island. He was heading for the opening under the Golden Gate Bridge, to the right of the center pier, to intercept the outgoing, or west bound, ship channel.

We kept the green buoys to starboard and followed the west bound ship channel to the end. Randy turned on his navigation lights and the “steaming light” which shows that the boat is using an engine. That is important for other boats to know, because if a boat is just sailing, it is not as maneuverable as when it’s using an engine. That affects who has the right of way. Generally, sailboats have the right of way, but if she is under power, then the boat has to follow the right of way rules for motor boats. A really big ship that can’t maneuver very well because of its size and a narrow ship channel, almost always has the right of way, especially if there are things the ship could run into, even if a sailboat would normally have the right of way.

Randy looked around with a really big pair of binoculars. There weren’t any ships coming up behind us, so he throttled back to half speed and turned a little to starboard, so the wind was coming over the port side of the boat.

He pushed a button, and one of the triangular sails on the front of the boat started to unroll. He told me the front of the boat is the bow. It’s pronounced like, “the dog says bow wow.” The front triangle sail is the jib and the one behind it is smaller. It’s called the staysail. There wasn’t too much wind, so he unrolled both of them.

Randy throttled back to as slow as the throttle let him, but kept the transmission in gear. He pushed another button and the big sail on the back of the front mast unrolled. Randy said that was the mainsail. Then he pushed another button and unrolled the smaller sail on the shorter mast that was more toward the stern or aft end of the boat. He said that was the mizzen sail.

I asked what kind of sailboat Quark Quark was, and he said she was a pilothouse ketch.

Randy told me to put on my fleece jacket, and then he took me on deck. It was a little chilly outside the pilothouse. He adjusted the ropes that control the angle of the booms to the wind so the sails pull efficiently. He also pulled on the ropes, called sheets, at the back corner of the jib and staysails, to get them to pull better.

We went back into the pilothouse, and Randy put the transmissions in neutral, and then he shut off the engines. The silence, except for the sound of the hull going through the water was so cool. Now I was starting to understand what Randy liked about sailing.

He turned on dim red lights inside the pilothouse. He said that helped keep your night vision from getting ruined, but you could still read the chart and not walk into things. He turned off the steaming light, since we were under sail now, and not engine power.

When we were going out the ship channel, the waves started getting bigger. That’s because when the waves go toward shore, there is a constant volume of water, but the ocean bed gets shallower. The water has to go somewhere, so the waves get taller. Randy called them rollers. I was feeling queasy while the engine was on, but I felt better as soon as the sails went up and he shut off the engines. The boat seemed to move through the water more smoothly and there wasn’t as much rocking with the sails pushing the boat. As we got into deeper water, the water wasn’t compressed as much, so the rollers weren’t as tall. That helped too.

Randy set the autopilot, and the machine took over steering. He set alarms on the AIS and the radar so there would be a noise, like a fire alarm, if a ship or radar return got closer than five miles.

Randy went down a couple of steps and I followed him into the kitchen. On a boat, it’s called the galley. He made some soup that was a pretty good copy of Anderson’s Split Pea. His version had really high-quality, thin sliced ham, cheddar cheese, and sour cream to put on top of the soup. When I was a little kid, I always liked going to Anderson’s, because of the windmill. I still had a few memories left of life with mom and dad.

We took our bowls up to the pilothouse and ate while we looked for ships or boats and watched the moon rise. We didn’t sit in the helm seat. There was a small built in couch, well love seat, actually, on one side of the pilothouse, and we sat there, touching from shoulder to knee. I liked the way the soup felt warm in my tummy. Randy hadn’t lit the fireplace, so it was chilly even in the pilothouse. He gave me a knit watch cap to wear. It had “Quark Quark” knit into the band around the part of the cap that you turn up after you cover your ears. He said that keeping the pilothouse cool helped prevent sea sickness.

“I’m really sorry I was grumpy with you about how fast the boat goes. I don’t know where that came from. It certainly wasn’t the romantic sunset sail you were anticipating. Again, I’m really sorry,” Randy said.

“Do you think you were nervous, maybe from not knowing how I was going to act? I mean I said some things that might have made you afraid I’d try to rape you or something. I’m not the Whore of Babylon, Randy.

“I kind of got into sex backwards, doing NSA first, then realizing I needed true love and commitment for sex to become making love, and to be as good as I dream it will be. It’s ok to be nervous, you know. Guys with younger girlfriends often have some worries and performance anxiety. That’s what I read, anyway, so you shouldn’t worry. You aren’t over the hill, and I’ll be gentle with you,” I said, with a teasing kind of smile.

Randy laughed hard at that line and said, “You are so much fun!”

He took pics of me huddling in my fleece jacket and wearing the knit watch cap. It started feeling more like a date with my boyfriend. It made me go “hmmmm” though, realizing that I might have to help him get over worries, if things were going to work out for us. Realizing I might be responsible for the health of our relationship and Randy’s mental health, made me nervous. That’s a lot of power for a fourteen-year-old girl to have.

We stayed up late talking and cuddling on the couch. Now and then we made out, but he didn’t put his hands under my jacket or between my legs. It was cold enough that I think cold hands would have killed any sexy thoughts.

Randy checked the AIS and radar, reset the alarms for 10 miles, and then he pulled a double bed out of the wall. He took me below and showed me the head. (That’s the bathroom on a boat.) I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and got a wash cloth soaked in warm water to wipe away any stale pussy juice. I went back to the pilothouse, stripped naked, hung my clothes on hooks, and slipped into the double sleeping bag.

Randy went down to the head and came back a few minutes later. He stripped and slid into the double sleeping bag, next to me. I cuddled up to him. He put his arms around me. My breasts were pressed against his chest, and my nipples liked rubbing against his chest hair. Being naked, and pressed against the naked body of the man I was lusting after made it difficult not to just make sex happen. I knew I could do that. I knew I had the power. However Randy’s warning about how sex can make love and lust get confused in a person’s mind made a lot of sense, and I definitely needed to know if we were in love. Randy showed remarkable self-control too. Well, I’d like to think it was remarkable. I do like to think of myself as a tasty treat, and for any adult male to resist a willing, naked fourteen-year-old mini-woman seemed remarkable to me. Does that seem egotistical?

“I guess it’s my fault we don’t know we are in love yet. I spent some time pushing you away because I was worried about your age, and I still don’t want to tempt fate. I really wouldn’t do well in jail. I’ll have to find out what was making me grumpy, and get rid of it. Hopefully tomorrow I won’t distract you from finding out how loveable I am,” Randy said.

“You know I want to find out if it’s love on several levels. First, you are good looking, and you have a nice, fit body. That gets me excited, just from looking at you. Second, you are nicely equipped, and I’d love to feel you fill me up. Third, you are a grown man, and I think it is going to be awesome to have an adult with knowledge and self-control make love to me and get me off really good before you take care of yourself.

“But I don’t want to mess things up and make it take longer for us to know if we are in love or in lust, so I’ll be a good little girl and I won’t rape you in your sleep,” I said.

“Oh good. I won’t molest you in your sleep then,” Randy said.

“Do you think we can keep from fucking if we kind of touch each other and explore the body in bed with ours? I’d be happy to help you destress, if that wouldn’t make you lose it. I could use my hands, or I could go full nasty and suck your cock,” I teased.

“That might be a good idea for both of us. If you get me off, I won’t be hard, so I won’t be as likely to try to stick it in you. If I make you cum, you’ll be more relaxed and maybe you won’t go crazy and jump on me,” Randy said.

I turned and started stroking Randy’s cock. I kept it up until he spurted. To make sure I’d drained him, I went down on him, sucked him hard again, and then kept sucking until he spurted in my mouth. I sucked up his spunk and swallowed it all.

I moved up on the bed and kissed Randy. He worked on my tits with his hands while we made out. He kissed down to my tummy and then down to my mound. He kissed my outer lips and then began running his tongue up and down my slit. As I got more and more worked up, my muscles relaxed and my pussy lips opened like a pink flower.

Randy drove me crazy with his tongue, fucking my hole with it and then licking my clit until I was cumming so hard it made me scream and squirm like a crazy woman. After I’d cum so many times I’d lost count of my orgasms, Randy sucked my clit until I practically exploded when I came. He moved up and kissed me, then cuddled up behind me with his limp dick nestled in the crack of my ass. He put one arm around me, and I moved his hand to cup one of my tits. We went to sleep like that.

We woke up at the same time. Randy’s cock was hard. I laughed and said, “Are you hard all the time?”

“Usually. It’s always hard first thing in the morning. I’ll go use the head, and then we can decide what we want to do today,”

He hopped out of bed and ran to the head. He was back in a very few minutes. I scampered after him and emptied my bladder too.

I was still feeling good from cumming so hard and so many times last night, but Randy’s big boner made me want to take care of him. That was a new emotion for me too. I had always thought about getting orgasms from Reggie, and just assumed he would get his on his own. With Randy, I was feeling like I wanted to be the only girl giving him pleasure and making him cum. I knew now that Randy was always going to take care of me and make sure I came as much and as hard as I possibly could.

I started licking and sucking Randy’s hard cock. I played around, seeing how much of his seven plus inches I could get in my mouth. I got his cockhead back to my throat, and I started experimenting with taking the head down my throat. I gagged, and Randy gently put his hands on my head and whispered, “You don’t need to do that, little girl.”

I looked up at him and said, “I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do. I’ve heard girls brag before, and I’m experimenting to find out what I can do, and what I like.”

Randy smiled at me, and it made my heart beat faster. I was very sure now that I was falling in love with this big, sexy man.

“I really like the way you think,” Randy said.

“Like I said the other day, I think I was designed to be one man’s dream wife. I’m becoming convinced that you are the man I’m supposed to be with. What are your thoughts after being in bed with a naked fourteen-year-old girl last night?” I said.

“I’m starting to believe that there is a lot more to Miss Amanda Jones than meets the eye. You have a lot of self-control, and you don’t act rashly. You let me know you’d like to be a very sexual woman, but then you tell me that you will only give all that sexual energy to a man you love and who has proved he loves you. You are wise beyond your years, and I’m beginning to believe that you are the only girl on earth who is worth giving my heart to. I want the kind of marriage we have talked about, and I want it with you,” Randy said.

“Where do we go from here?” I asked.

“We know we are attracted to each other. We know we have the same goal; a marriage full of love, great sex, physical and emotional satisfaction, good communication, and helping each other.

“Just because we have the same goals, doesn’t mean we are compatible. We don’t know yet if we can give all those things to each other, even though that is what we want to do. Sometimes the way a person grows up or the things that have happened to them influence them so strongly that their behavior doesn’t follow their thoughts and ideals. They act like they are on autopilot or like a robot programmed to behave a certain way that doesn’t go with what the person says they believe or how they want to act.

“This is why we need to do things together, and see if we are good at working together. In those situations, a person’s true nature comes out, so we get to see if our actions are true to the ideals we say we believe in. I think working together running the boat, cooking together, and cleaning up will probably show us everything we need to know,” Randy said.

“How long do you think it takes for us to see what we need to see, and know that the other person is being themselves, and not acting?” I asked.

“I’m not sure there is a definite time to see that. If you say a year, I could be acting for twelve months and after you believe I’m the one you want, I could say, “Fooled you!” and start acting like an asshole. I like to think there will be a time when both of us will look in each other’s eyes and say, “Now I know you.” Perhaps this is naïve or wishful thinking, but that’s what I imagine,” Randy said.

We danced the dance with each other, and several months later when we were coming home from a very difficult trip, full of bad weather, a dragging anchor, and foul-smelling mud on the anchor and chain, it happened just like Randy said it would. We were holding each other close, looking into each other’s eyes, resting up from a stressful and sleepless night. We were safe at the marina dock, tied up so the boat wasn’t going anyplace.

I whispered, “I love you Randy. You are the man I dreamed I’d find one day. I want to be with you and love you every day for the rest of my life.”

Randy grinned at me and said, “Miss Amanda Jones, I love you. Will you marry me?”

I almost yelled, “YES!”

We were naked and cuddling in the sleeping bag. Both of us wanted to make love that instant, but we settled for making each other cum. Randy had showed me how good it felt to cum from my G-Spot. I went a little crazy the first time he did it to me. There is something more deeply satisfying from cumming from stimulation inside my vagina than from even the best thing he does to my clit. Then he did my clit and my G-Spot at the same time. I totally freaked and screamed my little head off, nearly squirmed off the bed, and begged Randy to do me again and again and again. He kept doing me until I passed out.

Now, this is part of our love making that both of us treasure. I haven’t felt deprived as Randy got us legal, but I am looking forward to the first time we have intercourse more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.

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