Chapter 17

My sister, her new friend, the young poet and his new friend greeted us and the loot happily. Seeing two extra sets of arms made me happy. Even the young poet hauled what he could. He looked a lot healthier. The heavy oak desk proved difficult. At least we didn't need to negotiate stairs. Bringing the heavy tools down the embankment to the basement took the most effort; the house being built above a small ravine one tended to continue into it. Not having a door in the doorway helped. Once completed, we headed the small distance up the road to the Annandale Inn to celebrate. I had to pull the Amazon away from the basement to get her to come. She already found measuring tape and a notebook and pencil and began to measure the door and window frames.

We bought a bottle of champagne and finished it toasting. While sipping and chewing sandwiches we watched the parade of students. Everyone satisfied with their partners we only noticed the aesthetic attractiveness of several of them. The exception was the dancer who lingered on young men's asses. Later I commented to the young poet who shrugged and said, "We're not in love, just having fun, and what fun."

What about the other shoe dropping? It didn't for awhile, at least nothing serious. There were problems. When isn't there, and what would life be without them? The first occurred that night and the next morning when my sister's lover wanted more from me than available. She wanted more than the occasional fun threesome. She wanted me.

Treating her like a virgin, we spent time chatting, working slowly towards sex. In fact the chatting had continued from the Inn. Noticing the Amazon's abstracted look as she contemplated carpentry, I spent most of the evening chatting with my sister and her lover. Conversing went smoothly, although the lover's bursts of enthusiasm over something I described about the Vase or Paris or my theory of gestures or my years modeling seemed overwrought. It turned out genuine. I fascinated her.

Sex didn't dissuade her obsession. Even though my sister contributed to several screaming orgasms it amplified. The first orgasm was the biggest. We teased her unmercifully, cultivating it as carefully albeit much quicker than a perfect orchard. She dripped in readiness before we got her naked, but we avoided letting her climax, bringing her time and again to the peak. When at last I sucked in her clit and massaged it with my lips and my sister twisted a nipple and chewed the other, the house rattled with her scream. Letting it subside a moment, my sister sheathing my cock in lamb intestine, I climbed between her widely spread little legs letting my sister guide me to her slick slit. Restraining her hips, both my sister and I prevented her from lifting and impaling. Instead, continuing the virgin motif, I gradually entered. No obstruction there to thrust through, my respectably large penis, I measured it at 7" and nearing two inches in diameter since its last growth spurt, continued its gradual in and out descent. Finally embedded, I pushed my pubic bone against hers and rubbed. She clung to me, wrapping her legs around and pulling. "Mmm, nice," she said. When her clinging relaxed I began the slow battle to win her next orgasm. Watching her face, I moved about as I lifted to the edge of exiting and slid back in, slowly but intensely. Finding an angle straight in and high, I quickened my strokes but kept them long. Watching the beginning of the fuck, my sister started pressing above her clit as I slid against it causing the lover another climax. Closing my eyes, I felt the undulations nearly succeed in driving out my sperm. I rested, preventing a climax. I fucked her fast with short hard strokes without warning and another climax built fast and this one I joined, pushing deep and holding her in my arms.

Enjoying her soft and smooth and full body was easy. Her vaginal perfume smelled sweet and fresh. Caressing her breasts and savoring her odor through my deep breaths and feeling the walls inside clinging and releasing, I sustained my erection. When I returned to gentle strokes, her eyes went wider than before. My sister giggled. "Stud," she said. "Showoff." My hand took hold of my sister's pussy and lifted her, suggesting she straddle her lover. The lover went at the pussy immediately and well the way my sister's eyes widened and then closed as she writhed and moaned. I kept the slow pace going, holding the lover's soft round bottom as I knelt and leaned in to kiss my panting sister. My sister squeezed her lover's breasts with one hand, the other on my shoulder draped around my neck, holding her up and keeping me close for kissing. I waited until my sister neared orgasm before rearranging, placing the lover doggy style, my sister climbing underneath with her legs open for further pleasures from her lover's mouth. She tickled my scrotum and pressed along my shaft with her hand, rubbing her lover's clit. Between laps and sucks, the lover moaned. I drilled her, loving the view as I knew I would of her ass folded in front of me. I eased back, letting my sister get more concentration. Once she climaxed, I returned to relentless drilling through one loud orgasm and into another and ejaculated as it abated. My penis had enough, and dwindled. Released from her pussy, it seemed the only thing keeping her up, and she toppled onto her side. My sister, the flaccid member near her face, removed the condom, kissed me and toddled off with it, her cute little derriere moving delightfully. While she flushed and returned, I lay on my back. The well fucked lover draped over my side stared lovingly at me. I asked my sister if she was good. She nodded.

"Do you think I could have him to myself for awhile?" asked the lover. My sister smiled and nodded and joined the Amazon downstairs. We heard laughter a couple minutes later.

"Mmm, you smell nice," said the lover, rubbing her face against my shoulder.

"You do too," I said.

She lifted herself onto my body and we kissed. It built to a tangle of tongues. My penis twitched, threatening to rise again. It became one of the longer kisses of my life. When it ended at last, not that I minded, she whispered, "I love you." Oops. I chuckled. Double oops.

"What's funny," she asked, looking concerned, her chin resting on the back of her hands placed on my chest, her body feeling wonderfully light and soft on mine.

"You just met me?" I said, lifting the end like a question.

"So what? Maybe it's destiny. What's the time line on destiny?"

"I don't love you," I said.

"You will. You like my body, don't you?"

"I love your body," I said, giving her a spank.

"Ooh. I kind of liked that." She wriggled, her crinkly pubic hair scraping my hardening penis. "That's the thing. You know what I like. I like the way you talk to me. You listen to me."

"Why shouldn't I?" I asked

My sister's lover shrugged. "Boys don't. They want my body and don't care about my mind. They don't even care about my pleasure. I like the way you make love to me."

"I liked it too. But as far as talking, I recall doing most of it."

"That's because you're amazing. You're so young and yet you've done so much." I thought about the amount of things I've done I didn't think wise to mention, and, well, I agreed. "You've done so many neat things."

"Are you saying you haven't?" I said. I don't know if I came off cruel. I wanted to.

"Not really," she said. Her concern made me feel briefly guilty.

"Let me make something clear," I said, hammering in the intention. "I don't fall in love." It wasn't true anymore. I loved the Amazon. If it came to that I'd confess the lie, which only a day ago seemed the truth. "I've had a lot of experience doing what we just did, you know, fucking. I'm not telling you how, but I trained as soon as I became interested. I'm extremely good at it. I do it for a living."

"What do you mean?"

"I have clients." I had only one at the time, but... "They're middle aged. You met the mistress. She's one."

"But she's got a baby," said the lover.

"She tricked me. I was young and foolish. I probably still am. She wanted a baby and I made one for her."

"So she's yours? She's adorable just like you."

"Um, thanks. But what I'm saying is falling in love with me is a mistake."

"I don't think so." She wriggled and I got harder. She noticed. Creeping slowly down my body with a smile both sexy and worried, when she reached my penis, she grabbed it and kissed it. "Tell me what to do," she said. I did. She learned slowly. My penis managed hardness nevertheless. She started rising. I gathered her intention.

"Rubber please," I said. She neared the point of entry. "If you ever want to fuck me again, you will cover my penis," I said as restrained as possible. Thankfully she obeyed, stroking me a few times and sucking to restore the loss of stiffness her threat caused before clumsily rolling it on. She straddled and rode. I enjoyed the sight of her bouncing jugs. She leaned down and found a pleasurable angle. I helped the fuck. Slapping her bottom several times thrilled her and she started riding wildly. Squeezing her amazing breasts and bringing them to my mouth to suck and chew her nipples brought her to another screaming orgasm. I had a long way to go, but her collapse suggested she had enough. As she lay beside me, I gently stroked her hair. "I wish I could love you. You're beautiful and sweet and have about the sexiest body I've ever seen. It's not destiny darling. My sister and you are closer to destiny then I could ever be. Think about it."

"I love you," she said. I kept silent. When her breath steadied in sleep, I carefully escaped her embrace and went downstairs.

The Amazon was receiving a tongue lashing from my sister. Her blush told of previous success. "Take that thing off," she ordered, chuckling. Too shocked by the relentless love of a lesbian kid, the condom still dangled from my penis. I removed it and took over for my sister, telling her to join her lover.

"Is everything alright?" my sister asked.

"She said she loved me."

"What do you expect after all those orgasms?" said my sister.

"I know, but she meant it."

"Shit," said my sister.

"Shit," said the Amazon.

"Yeah," I said.

"I'm sorry. I thought she wanted some fun. She had bad experiences. She couldn't tell you two were in love? What, she was going to steal you? Fucking bitch."

"Let it go, sweetheart," said the Amazon. The sex mood destroyed, I snuggled next to her. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it was her cunt talking."

"It better had been," said my sister, ready to storm off.

"Wait," I said. "She's sleeping. Let her wake to your cute face."

"I'll try," said my sister, taking a couple of breaths to calm down before quietly walking upstairs.

"She really is cute when she gets mad," said the Amazon. Both of us felt sated and ready to sleep. "Her friend has a great body. It must have been fun to fuck."

"It doesn't come near to yours," I said. "No one's does."

"You're a sweet liar. I love you."

"I love you too. Remember that."

"How exactly am I going to forget?"

Early the next morning we awoke to yells. "Get the fuck out," yelled my sister. Stomping down the stairs followed and the naked ex-lover of my sister stood in our doorway.

"See what you're missing," grumbled the undeniably sexy body and pretty face, her tits proudly thrust up, her legs wide. "You want her over this?"

I was ready to spring off the bed and slap her, but the Amazon's laugh stopped me.

"You're right darling. She does look deliciously fuckable," the Amazon said with minimal inflection.

Shaking her head in confusion, her clothes raining down on her from above, her shoes nearly hitting her, she dressed, staring at me, her eyes changing from angry to misty sadness. Covered, she looked up.

"Fuck off stupid bitch," came from above. She did.

It was early. The sun cast redness on the night. We decided to remain awake, puttering around cleaning and helping set up a studio space for my sister in the living room, the room with the most light. When things opened we attended to the business of the apartment, getting utilities under the Amazon's name. Then we stocked our empty refrigerator and cupboard at the grocery store and bought wine and cognac. After putting groceries away we went on campus and watched Bard function.

The first day students confirmed classes which they had registered for through the mail, making sure the schedule corresponded to what they expected and to make any last minute changes. The freshmen got oriented at lunch, and except for the young poet, we attended. The president made a speech. Neither condescending nor overly intellectual, he proudly touted the school, its history and its progressive intent in a calm flowing New England intellectual speech, easy and pleasant to listen to. Despite being at least thirty years older than the students, his method talked directly to them. His secretary sat beside him. When he finished, praising the freshmen's choice, I saw him whisper something into her ear. She in turn whispered to a couple older students, one being the guide, and left them to do as ordered, distributing a booklet. Not knowing their abundance, I whispered to the Amazon to grab one for us to share and excused myself.

Instead of exiting the commons, the secretary had turned right, heading to the snack bar we had eaten at a couple of times. I rushed to her as she tried sitting at a table with hands full and a heavy bag weighing her shoulder down. "Hi," I said, hoping she remembered me, taking the books from her hands and placing them on the table.

"I thought you were still in high school," said the remembering secretary. "Thanks."

"It's a long story," I said.

"Well then, let me order some food. I'm starved. Can I get you anything?"

"I guess a Coke," I said.

"I'll be right back."

Her lunch was thrown together by the counter person and filled a tray. She brought it to the table. "I didn't expect to see you again for ... a year," she said. "That's if you decided to attend."

I improvised a story, partially true and partially invented. The truth consisted of helping a friend get out of the City for his health and to explore the area for a place for my other friends to create studios. The invented part promoted new thoughts about high school and me. When I explained to her school slowed my intellectual growth and my senior year promised credit numbers more than learning anything because the base classes except for math I had completed, I realized what I wanted. I wondered if she knew how to help.

"You know with the GI Bill, the government is looking for ways to help soldiers move into college," said the president's secretary. "Have you heard about the General Education Development or GED?" I hadn't. She explained. I got excited. She smiled.

Bussing her tray, I then helped her haul her stuff to the administration building. There she found me to be an eager helper. Explaining the filing needed done, she had me putting things away while she sat at her desk and typed. We kept the conversation going. Wanting to hear her story, I told her mine, keeping the socially unsavory stuff out. I admitted being a bastard, but my mom was a seamstress. Making money as a fashion model, I didn't mention my other means of support. I told her about the Vase and my interest in film. She got in the spirit and told me her life.

Her father was an accountant at a large corporation in Rochester New York. Her mother raised the kids. She hated it. "She could have been anything she wanted, she was that bright, but felt obligated to raise us like a good American mom. Her bitterness stung. The stupid concerns of children drove her crazy. She felt imprisoned by us. Her brilliance constructed the cage. So I decided never to be in her place. I worked hard in school. Vassar gave me a scholarship. I wanted out to make my own way. Then I fell in love.

"Senior year, after avoiding invitations for dates, I guess I was pretty though I didn't play the slut or cheerleader cards, and boys brave enough would attempt to befriend me and if they wanted more I'd shrug them off, one of those boys, as timid as they come, finally got up the nerve to ask me to the prom. I wanted the experience, so I agreed. It turned out to be this romantic evening. The boy went whole hog. I mean he must have had this vision and practiced it in his head, because even though he could barely tell me he wanted to be my prom date, that night he seemed so at ease he made me at ease. Instead of having his parents pick me up, he walked to my house carrying a large box of red roses. He gave them to my mother except one, which he clipped off, borrowing my mother's scissors and pinned to my dress. Then he ordered me to change shoes for the walk to school and to put on a sweater. It was pretty cold out. He had a small case, not much bigger than a brief case to carry his and my shoes. Along the way to school we talked. I told him my plans and he told me his, which included going to Cornell on a scholarship. The kid was intelligent. He loved books and wanted to be a librarian at the Library of Congress. Anyway, we get there, changed into our good shoes and danced and talked. He was funny and interesting and interested. When we had enough of the prom, he took me to his home where his mom had created a romantic scene with candles and even wine. We talked. He put on the radio and we danced. We kissed. All hope was thrown away. I loved the guy.