Alf and I had been friends for years, but I hadn’t seen him since shortly after college—I was best man at his wedding. Not long after that I emigrated to North America. Almost two decades later he had a daughter in her teens, Amanda, and a summer house on a lake, and my wife and I were back in Sweden on a visit. Naturally I accepted Alf’s invitation to stay with them for a few days.

I felt a little guilty taking over Amanda’s bed, but Elle, Alf’s wife, insisted that the cot in the sewing room was quite comfortable and that Amanda wouldn’t mind a bit. Amanda didn’t say anything one way or the other. She seemed polite but distant. I couldn’t help wonder what her life was like. She seemed a little lonely, a little pre-occupied, but pre-occupied with what I couldn’t begin to guess.

The first night I did not expect Marianna to want to make love. Would such behavior from house guests be proper? We didn’t know how well the walls would block the sounds. Marianna tends to have loud orgasms.

As it happened, we went to bed quite late, having had quite a bit to drink, and Marianna was rambunctious to say the least. Before we were even fully undressed, she said, “I need to taste you. I need to taste your lovely cock.” Only half undressed, we found ourselves doing a side by side sixty-nine. Marianna was clearly excited. Her clit jutted between my lips. Her juices coated my nose. Close to coming myself, I managed to lick Marianna into an orgasm—and with my cock in her mouth, muffling her, she managed both to avoid screaming and to keep from biting me. The thought that she might bite me, if nothing else, helped me to avoid going over orgasm’s cliff.

“Oh, that was so good,” she whispered, having caught her breath. “Now I need you to fuck me in this little girl’s bed.” Without waiting for an answer—I guess it hadn’t been a question—she mounted me and began riding hard. I held her breasts and squeezed her nipples the way she likes when she gets close, and sure enough, soon she was coming again, chanting “oh god, oh god, oh god,” and I wondered whether Amanda, on the cot in the sewing room right next door, could hear us, and if she could, what she must think. Maybe she found the sounds of passion disgusting—or maybe she found them exciting. Maybe she was even masturbating to noise of our fuck. That idea excited me. I thrust upward. We strove together toward Marianna’s third climax, and when it came, I joined her, forgetting everything but the extreme pleasure of ejaculating into the hot wet sheath of my Marianna’s lovely cunt.

Both spent, we lay together for some time, still joined, our fluids seeping slowly out, no doubt leaving a wet spot on Amanda’s sheets. I thought that would be it, and we’d settle into sleep, but Marianna roused herself. “I love you so much,” she said. “I love the way you fuck me. I love the way you make me come. I love your cock. I love you.” I chuckled. “You think I’m kidding?” she said, her tone impish. “I’ll show you.” And she swiveled so that she could take my mostly dwindled cock into her mouth. I was small enough that, for a time, she could take me all in. In the end, though, I was too tired to do more than nuzzle the cum-drenched flower of her vulva, and I don’t think she minded. It was cuddling more than anything else. We fell asleep that way.

When I awoke it was the earliest dawn. We’d forgotten to pull the curtain—I’m not even certain there was one, and the wan glow of morning light seeped into the room, illuminating Marianna’s hip and above us Amanda, peering down. I might have been in enough shadow that she didn’t see I was awake. I kept my eyes slitted. She stared at us for some time, and then she took something from the little desk and slipped quietly from the room.

A moment later I eased myself from the bed, careful not to disturb Marianna’s slumber, stepped into my trousers, and went out into the hall. I was careful, but the wooden floors creaked beneath my bare feet. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, exactly. Maybe some coffee, I said to myself. I think I was curious what the girl had taken from the room. I thought I’d catch up to her in the kitchen. With Marianna’s sex scent strong on my face and mustache, I wasn’t certain confronting Amanda would be a good idea. But my cock swelling in my pants had other ideas. In an attempt to forestall my lust, I found the bathroom and managed to piss. The swelling didn’t go down. I spent a moment deciding whether to flush the toilet. I flushed, while running water in the sink, and then I washed my hands. Looking in the mirror, I breathed Marianna’s scent from my mustache, and I decided not to wash my face. I went to the kitchen.

The girl wasn’t there. I supposed she’d gone back to her own room, or rather the sewing room, and I was about to do the same—my room, not the sewing room—when passing through the living room, I caught sight of her out in the yard. She was wearing a gauzy white nightgown that barely covered her hips, and she was stepping barefoot through the high grass down to the lake.

I watched her for a few seconds. Maybe she was going for an early morning swim. She was almost at the shore when I decided to go out after her. There was something about her that made me want to be near her whatever the consequences. Alf’s camera was on a shelf near the door, and impulsively I grabbed it on my way out.