Chapter 6

In the ensuing weeks, Amanda's life changed. Cindy noticed a change in her mother's moods, for the better. To her, she was like a totally different woman. She noticed it almost immediately upon her return from shopping in the city. As they sat on the deck the next afternoon, she asked her mother, "What did you do yesterday, Mom? I have never seen you like this before."

"Like what?"

"Like how you are acting. I can't define it. You're just different. You're whistling, then you're humming a different song. You're all over the place. Really, Mom, you remind me of Tinkerbelle in the movies. Just blink and your magically in another room."

Amanda laughed at the comment. "Nothing has changed, honey, I'm just in a good mood."

"Did Daddy do some thing special in bed last night?"

"Cindy!!!! What a thing to ask your mother."

"Well, it's the only thing I could think of..."

"No, your father didn't do anything special in bed, as if he actually could." She immediately regretted adding that last snippet, but she had said it and couldn't erase those words.

"Well, whatever you did, keep doing it, Mom. You're a lot more fun to be around."

Amanda tried to change the subject, but Cindy continued on. "Speaking of that kind of stuff. Did you see what the landscape guy is wearing today while he is working at the pool?"

"No, I haven't seen him yet today. Why?"

"The only thing he has on right now is a speedo swimming suit. You can see the outline of everything. He is sooo hot, Mom. I wonder how old he is?"

"No, I haven't seen him, and you shouldn't be looking at him that way."

"You told me that it's natural for a girl's hormone to create these feelings. I certainly am having them around him. I just want to run up and hug him. I stood there watching him work for about five minutes and ended up with a big wet spot in the front of my shorts."

Amanda was happy that her daughter had enough confidence in herself to say these things to her mom, but it troubled her that she was recognizing her own sexual excitement at the ripe old age of fourteen. "I'm pretty sure that he would not be interested in someone so much younger that he is. There was this undefined feeling of protecting her "catch" that was occupying Amanda's thoughts. "Stay away from him, he's mine," is what she wanted to say.

A week later, Amanda made a point of "accidentally" encountering Mr. Will (T.L.) Reynolds as he worked to restore on of her tulip beds. "Oh, Mr. Reynolds. It is good to see you again. I have given much thought to your proposal," she said, acting as innocent as she could. "I don't have any problems with any of the terms."

That brought a smile to his face. Normally it did not take two weeks for the women in his life to acknowledge and agree to his conditions. He was surprised that it had taken Amanda so long. "That's good. Do you have a date in mind for our next adventure?" he asked in a lowered voice?

"I think tomorrow would be good, but we can not do it here. Please make arrangements at some other location and let me know where and when."

He reached into his wallet and handed her a printed business card. On the reverse side was directions to a location about forty miles from her house. "Be there at noon, he said."

"You have these directions printed?" she asked, somewhat surprised.

"You are not the only woman that I know who is unhappy in her marriage."

The next day, Amanda followed the directions precisely and found herself on a heavily wooded, paved lane. As she came to a clearing, she saw him standing on the porch of a rustic cabin. A very expensive sports car was parked in the drive. He came to her car, opened the door for her and helped her to the cabin.

"What is this place? Who owns it?"

"I own it," he replied. "It is my haven from the rat race of the city. There is no telephone, no television. It is not even listed in my name on the tax rolls. No one knows that it is mine, or where to find me, unless I choose to tell them. I don't want irate husbands roaming around with shotguns."

Amanda walked through the front door as he held it for her. She was impressed with the furnishings. This was anything but a rustic, crude, "getaway" cabin.

You can hang your clothing in that closet if you want, or lay them over that chair in the corner. We won't be using that one today."

He is so matter-of fact, Amanda thought, but he is just being considerate of my things, I guess. She was just not accustomed to people being so open in their conversation. Most of the people she knew spent too much time "beating around the bush".

She began undressing, hanging her slacks and blouse on hangers in the closet.

His finger had found her crotch before she even turned around. She could tell shat she was already wet, and now he knew it too. That was embarrassing to her. "Why do you make me feel so wanton?"

"There is no need to be embarrassed. Answer this. Why did you come here? It's not to admire the cabin or the scenery. You came here so that I could fuck you again, and so that I could make you feel good, again, and so that your life would be all turned upside down for a while, again. Isn't that right?"

She said nothing.

"Be honest with yourself. You came here for one reason. Because you want me to fuck you again. Say it."

"I want you to fuck me, again."

He pushed her gently backwards onto the bed, knelt down on the floor and threw her legs over his shoulders. His mouth was on her bush instantly, his tongue burrowing into every crevice, then sliding up the slit to her clit, and then flicking against it. He pulled her hips tightly to his face, almost smothering himself in her bush, chewing roughly on her clit, forcing his tongue into her. scratching her clit with his whiskers. Her juices were flowing, running down her legs as he lapped at it too. He pulled away, stood up, and slipped the head of his cock into her. He held it at the end, with just the tip in her, briefly, and then pushed further into her until his cock hit her cervix once again. Instantly she had her first orgasm.

He continued his motions, extremely slowly, allowing his cock to rub her clit with each movement or change of direction. It was a maddeningly slow pace, yet she thought she knew what to expect. She allowed herself to cum again, and to be built up again. He pulled his cock out of her, held it in his hand, and she looked up at him again. And then she knew, and he pressed it, without any warning or preparation, into her ass. He didn't stop at the head, he didn't hold still for her to adjust. He continued pushing into her until his cock was buried and his balls were resting against her cheeks.