Amanda

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Fuhgeddabout “Kelly Chapter 6,” which nobody seemed to like, even as a fantasy. Oh well. This honors the lady after whom Amanda was modeled, in a different time and place, and a different male character. I have seen her recently. She is every bit as lovely as ever. Everybody’s 18 here, and the names have been changed to protect the adored. It’s nice to publish a story again. It has been a long time.

*

It was Sunday, late morning. Hannaford’s Superstore. I looked down the aisle as I walked by and there it was. The Ass. The hourglass shape of a perfect ass atop mile-long legs, curving in to a small waist and curving out again to perfect breasts. There was only one body that I knew of in the whole region that looked like that. Amanda. I had not even seen her in our smallish town in two years. Blonde, huge almond-shaped blue eyes, a beautiful face, six feet tall. She made Paris Hilton look drab.

Smitten? Me?

Her long hair was tied up, and she was walking (they call that walking?) away from me. The stalking began. I raced down the next aisle and turned the corner, almost bumping into her. She smiled and I thought I needed sunscreen. I stole a peek at her breasts, contained in a very tight pink T-shirt. I loved the way the shirt clung to every curve. They were perfect, but so were all Amanda’s physical attributes. Let’s see, she was 23 now.

I had first known her as a high school student several years before. A substitute teacher, I had enjoyed just watching her. She cared about her clothes, and was always incredibly sexy. The worst (best) was that day in gym class, playing coed soccer in the gym. She had pulled up the bottom of her T-shirt to wipe something off her face, and there it was: a gold tummy chain, loose around her magnificent tummy, sweat pants clinging low on her hips. I thought I might swoon. As a rule, I didn’t lust after high school girls. Too perverted. Amanda was the exception, but even that lust was from afar, and more of a “she deserves the best in life” kind of admiration rather than all the cheap physical stuff. On the other hand, I’m not immune to fantasy. It was complicated.

For instance: she also had this miniskirt. Now, the school’s dress code forbade skirts or shorts shorter than the ends of fingers when hands are relaxed at the side. It seemed this one failed by about a foot, showing most of her trim thighs. One time, she bent over to put ketchup on a burger in the cafeteria, and I lost my breath. Images of pulling it up, dropping my pants, and pounding her from behind had kept me awake at night from time to time. As I said, it was complicated, because on the other hand, I’d never even spoken to her.

Then, she dropped out the first semester of her senior year. I couldn’t believe it! How can someone get so close to graduating, and then quit? I was sad, but still dreamed of her nipples hardening under my tongue, her legs squeezing my ears, her hands on my cheeks pulling me deeper within her warmth, kissing her for months. Sooo complicated.

And here she was. Smiling at me. I think she even remembered who I was.

“Hi, Amanda,” I said lamely.

“Hi.”

“I haven’t seen you in a long time. How are you?”

“Oh,” she said, a little wistfully, “I’m OK, I guess.”

“Your answer doesn’t fill me with confidence,” I said.

“It’s OK,” she stuttered. “Everything will be OK.” A tear trickled down the outside of her cheek. Instinctively, I reached out and wiped it with my thumb. Pretty brazen for me.

“If I bought you coffee, would it help to talk to someone?” I asked, out of true concern now.

She brightened a little, and the steel-melting smile returned. “I would like that, I think.”

“How ’bout we finish shopping and meet at Panera in a half-hour?”

“I’d like that,” she said, her shoulders relaxing a little.

“See you there!” and I trundled my cart away.

Panera was deserted, and we practically had the place to ourselves. Coffee and a cinnamon crunch bagel. Yum.

Amanda sat across from me, tall enough so that if she leaned forward just a little bit, her breasts would sit on the tabletop. It might have been hard to keep my eyes off them, but her face was so beautiful, her eyes so blue, that it was a problem to decide just what to stare at. I settled on her eyes. She told me of breaking up with her abusive boyfriend, of losing her job, of being unable to pay her rent.

Before I knew it, I was inviting her to come live in my house until she got herself together. My wife had passed away almost a year before, and my son had grown. It was a big house, I said, with plenty of room. Rent-free, obligation-free, except maybe for some occasional help with dishes.

There are moments in life, as you know, that happen spontaneously, without thought or consideration of consequences, coming straight from the heart. I think this was one of them.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. Not an unreasonable question. I had to think about it for a moment. In a flash, I decided on honesty.

“Well, in all honesty, I’ve had a crush on you since you were in high casino siteleri school. I have always thought that you were the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. But that’s not the point, because to say that might scare you off, thinking that I had ulterior motives. But I don’t, Amanda. If I were 30 years younger, yes, I’d be trying to romance you like crazy. But I’m not, I’m 54 and know better than to think that someone like you would be interested in a broken-down old man like me. It just pleases me greatly to be able to do something so simple for you and help you out. If I have an ulterior motive, it’s to earn your friendship, no more.”

She looked at me for a moment, weighing what I had said. “I accept,” she said simply.

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. “When does this have to happen?”

“Today?” she asked meekly.

“How much stuff do you need help moving?”

“I want to pack some clothes, other than that there’s not much.”

“Do you want help?” I asked.

“No, thanks. I can manage.”

I sketched directions on a napkin, and told her supper was at six. We parted, and I floated out the door. Men are weird. I had told her what I believed to be the truth, but nevertheless I was euphoric. What was going on? I was clearly a victim of mind-muddle. It’s the knight-in-shining-armor thing. I was always a sucker to see myself that way.

Amanda arrived about 5:00, and I showed her around the big, empty house, finishing with her room. She was almost giddy. “I’ve never lived in such a nice place before,” she said, clapping her hands in excitement. “Thank you so much!” And with that, she threw herself at me for a full-body hug. In a word: wow.

We had a nice, light supper of pasta with a light tomato sauce and a salad, and got to know each other a little. She was sweet, but had never had an easy time of it. Parents divorced, dad far away, mom a terror. She had hoped to be successful on her own, but it hadn’t worked out. Several times she was close to tears. I would gently guide the conversation away, coming back later when her composure was more assured.

We retreated to the porch, with final glasses of wine, and talked into the evening. Finally, I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and began to wish her goodnight.

“You know, Amanda, the best bed in the house is the one here on the porch. You can hear the critter sounds, and the fresh air brings deep sleep. It’s made up if you’d like to try it.”

“That sounds nice,” she smiled, “May I?”

“Make yourself at home,” I said for probably the tenth time, sounding more lame each time.

We went inside. I cleaned up after dinner, and made my evening ablutions, removing my contact lenses and brushing my teeth. I decided to check in on Amanda on the porch.

She was on her back, long blonde hair splayed over the pillow, the covers pulled up to her chin. She saw me and smiled. “This is wonderful!”

“Enjoy it,” I said, “and you’re welcome to make it a habit. I tucked the covers in around her, leaned, and kissed her forehead.

“Good night, Amanda,” I said, “I’m really happy to have you here. It’s been lonely the last six months.”

“Good night,” she replied with a smile, “I’m grateful for your generous spirit.”

I went to bed upstairs.

In the morning I was careful to be quiet. I could see Amanda curled up in the porch bed, sound asleep. I stepped out to walk down the long driveway to fetch the paper, and returned with it to see that the bed was empty. I could hear the shower. I poured my first cup of coffee and began to peruse the news.

“Hi,” I heard as she came into the kitchen.

Oh…My…God…

She was wearing my white oxford shirt, which came down mid-thigh, while coming up on the sides to expose even more leg. A few buttons were undone at the top, revealing not-so-little cleavage. I happened to notice that the polish on her toenails was perfect. She toweled her mid-back-length blonde hair in a hopeless effort to dry it quickly.

“C-can I pour you some coffee?” I stuttered, finding my voice.

“Please,” she replied cheerily.

“What do you take in it?”

“Lots of everything,” she replied.

“How did you sleep?” I asked.

“Incredibly! I can’t remember sleeping that well.”

“Sure it wasn’t the wine?” I teased.

“I’m sure,” she said confidently. “Wine usually keeps me awake. Not last night.”

“The porch is pretty special,” I said.

“My first Monday without a job,” she mused.

“I thought about a picnic at the top of the hill. It’s open there, with a good view. The hike is easy, and the weather should be warm.”

“I’ll pack lunch,” she said brightly, “if you show me where everything is.”

“How ’bout I lend a hand?” I said

We ended up with a knapsack of finger food and a bottle of wine. I folded a blanket over my arm and we set off into the woods.

The day was glorious, and so was Amanda. A tight white scoop-neck T-shirt and short (and do I mean short) pink shorts, her fresh-washed hair loose and still drying a little in the breeze. I led the canlı casino way up the hill. When we arrived at the top, she gasped at the view. “It’s incredible!”

I had a favorite place on the rocks, and spread the blanket. As we settled in, the sun-drenched rocks were warm through the fabric. We ate, and talked, and sipped wine. It was a magical time. When I was finished snacking, I just lay back on the blanket and looked at the clouds. She did, too, and we laughed as we imagined what the cloud shapes were.

“There’s a knight on a horse!” she said, pointing.

“Maybe it’s me,” I said.

“Maybe.” She said quietly.

My arm behind my head, the sun warm on my face, I don’t even remember falling asleep.

I remember waking up though, to a warm body pressed against me, face nuzzled into my neck, arm across my chest. It was a full-body press, and in my sleep I had responded with a full-bore erection. It was so nice. I didn’t dare move to disturb her. I just lay there, reveling in the closeness.

After what seemed like far too short a time, she awoke. When she realized where she was, she started. I found myself looking into beautiful, if sleepy eyes. The very definition of bedroom eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I guess I was a little chilly.”

“I wasn’t,” I replied.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” she said.

“I wasn’t complaining,” I said with a smile. “It was nice.”

She smiled, just a little, and looked at me. “It was nice.”

“I had the happiest dream. I dreamt that I spent hours brushing your hair and talking about things that are important to you. Snacks and champagne magically arrived, and we had the sweetest time together. At the end, you thanked me and gave me the gentlest, lightest, and most wonderful kiss I’ve ever had. Then I woke up.”

She smiled and looked deeply into my eyes. “Only a kiss?” she asked.

“Only a kiss, but as wonderful and loving as I’ve ever received. It was a fantastic dream.”

“Would you really want to brush my hair for hours?”

“I think it would be a delightful, caring, intimate thing to do for you. It would let me feel like I’m pampering you.”

“How sweet! If that’s an offer, I’ll take you up on it.” There it was again, that steel-melting smile, but with a new softness.

We packed up and headed back to the house. It was late afternoon. We had slept for a couple hours.

We finished the bottle of wine over steaks on the grill, and again chatted into the night. Once again, I tucked her into the porch bed with a peck on the forehead. “I enjoyed today with you,” I said.

“Me, too,” she replied. “I liked it very much.”

I went to bed.

We had more days like that. Picnicking, taking day trips in the warm spring sun, walking in the woods. Neither of us was in any hurry to find Amanda work, and I was glad for the company. She was a special lady. My fantasies continued, but I felt it was wrong to take advantage of the situation, and besides, I still felt the old, broken-down guy who would hold no interest for someone who could capture any male’s heart.

So the days passed, gauzy and sunny like some chick-flick, but without the romance part.

In the middle of one night I awoke to a clatter, and suddenly Amanda was under the covers with me, pressing against me and holding me tightly. She trembled.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.

“A bad nightmare, and there were strange noises,” she said. “I’m scared.”

Just like a little girl. My knight reflex ignited. Then I relaxed.

“Probably just an owl,” I said, “Or maybe a fox. Have you ever heard an owl?”

“No,’ she replied. “Is it safe?”

“Not if you’re a mouse,” I said. “Are you a mouse?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. I could hear her voice relaxing.

My arm was around her as she hugged me. I patted her thigh. “You can probably go back now.”

“Will you come with me? I’m scared.”

What to do? Be a friend. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll bring my pillow.”

We marched downstairs and out onto the porch. It was a chilly spring night. We climbed under the covers. She moved close and shivered.

“Are you OK?” I asked.

“I’m CHILLY!” she exclaimed.

I put my arm around her and she snuggled in. I could feel every curve against my side. My penis became fully awake. Her hair smelled so good. She felt so good.

She continued to shiver and I held her even tighter. After a while, she relaxed, but stayed close. All of a sudden, I felt her peck my neck, lightly.

“What was that for?” I whispered.

“For being so good to me,” she replied. “No one has ever treated me like this before.”

“It makes me sad to hear that,” I said. “Because you deserve to be treated like a queen.”

“Thank you for saying that,” she said. “I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

“You do,” I said. “You’re a wonderful lady.”

She lifted her head, looking at me in the dark. “Do you really mean that?”

“I really mean it. You’re wonderful.”

She leaned and kissed me, softly. “Thank you.” And she kissed me again, a little less gently. kaçak casino Her tongue grazed my teeth.

“Amanda,” I said, “What are you doing?”

“You sweet man,” she said softly. “I’d like to see if I can live up to your dream kiss.”

“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “It feels wrong, and I don’t understand why you’d be interested in a broken-down old man.”

She gave me that sweet, gentle kiss. “How’s that compare?”

“Better than any dream,” I sighed.

She looked at me, and her hand slid down to grasp my hard cock through my underwear. “Doesn’t seem broken down to me!” And we both laughed.

“I won’t deny that it would be many fantasies fulfilled,” I said.

“You’ll have to tell me your fantasies,” she said. “But not right now. And you owe me hours of hairbrushing.” She moved in and we kissed, our tongues meeting and caressing. I caressed her neck. I ran my fingers through her long hair, and then gently massaged her back. That made her press even closer, and I felt her breasts mashing against me. She started stroking my cock though my shorts. And then slowly, tantalizingly, she slipped the waistband of my shorts down, exposing my hardness. When she touched my flesh with her cool, long fingers, I thought I would explode. I arched my back, my body begging for her to stroke me. All the while, we kissed: gently, passionately, less gently, more passionately. Her hand gripped my shaft tightly, and stroked me in short strokes. Incredibly stimulating.

We broke for air. “I love to kiss,” she confessed. “It turns me on.”

“Kissing you is magnificent,” I replied. “I love it, too.”

“Time to kiss you someplace else,” she said, not a little wickedly. And she lightly kissed and ran her tongue down my chest and belly. When she arrived at my cock, she kissed the tip lightly, getting the precum that oozed. She took her hair over her shoulder.

“Can you see me?” she asked. “I want you to watch me.”

I could see her face in the starlight. I watched while she knelt up, her long hair over her far shoulder, and descended on me while holding my dick straight up. Her lips enveloped my purple, swollen head and I felt the soft, warm wetness of her mouth and tongue. Needless to say, it was exquisite. She slowly, painstakingly slid her lips down my shaft, and then up my shaft, fucking me slowly, but passionately, with her mouth.

There was no way to resist. “I’m going to cum, Amanda, if you don’t stop.”

She popped off, literally, with a popping sound. “I have no intention of stopping,” she said, and resumed her attack on my pole. She came off for a brief second, took a deep breath, and swallowed me all the way. Her nose was firmly in my public hair. That was enough. With a growl, I grabbed her hair and exploded in her throat, sending gob after gob of sperm into her mouth. In return, she bobbed up and down wildly as she swallowed. The feeling of her mouth on me post-orgasm was incredible. My cock was so sensitive I considered cutting it off. For a nanosecond.

She came off me and smiled. “I wanted that,” she said. “I liked it very much.”

“I did too,” I sighed. “Come up here and cuddle with me. She moved up and snuggled in again, pressing tightly.

“What would you have me do?” I asked. “Your wish is my command.”

“Tell me a fantasy,” she said.

“Well, one is to have your thighs clamped tight around my ears,” I said.

“Mmmm. Then,” she said, “If you so wish it, I command it!” and she giggled.

“Remove thy garments!” I said, equally commanding, and with a laugh.

She peeled off her T-shirt and pulled down her panties. She lay gloriously glowing in the moonlight on the porch.

“Hurry! Before I get chilly!”

“I have no intention of doing anything to make you other than warm,” I said, as I rolled atop her and moved to kiss her. Her arms wrapped tightly around my neck and we kissed deeply. I moved and kissed her neck, nuzzling her chin. I slowly made my way down her shoulder, and then down her chest. I found my lips on her breast. I kissed first one, and then the other. Her nipples erecting, I played with each one with lips, tongue, and teeth. She arched her back and sighed. I took my time and kissed each breast all over; top, sides, underneath. I would return and suck a nipple deep into my mouth and flick my tongue across it, which would make her shiver and cling to me close.

“Now,” I said, looking up at her, “My lady’s wish is my command!” With that, I slowly started to make my way southwards, kissing her soft skin all the way, stopping to flick my tongue in her navel, which got me a giggle and a sigh. Lower and lower I went until her beautiful pink pussy was in front of my face. I smiled at her as she watched me, and then slowly, gently moved in to lick her labia. She arched her back and groaned.

“That feels so good,” she sighed, “Please don’t stop.”

“I’ve only just started,” I replied, and licked again. Moving in, I took her pussy to my mouth and clamped over it, driving my tongue deep inside and licking up its length. That, it seemed, was enough.

“Aaiiyyeee!” she cried, and, my fantasy fulfilled, clamped her beautiful thighs around my ears and shuddered in a powerful orgasm. Shudder after shudder wracked her body as I continued to jam my tongue deep inside her.

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