I Call Her Amy

Turning on the water she adjusted the temperature until it was warm but not over hot. As I stepped beside her she pulled me under the spray and massaged my scalp until my hair was soaked. Opening the shampoo bottle she poured a dash over my head and scrubbed until there was a thick lather.

'You can rub as hard as you like,' I told her, 'but the white patches at the sides won't come off. I've tried.'

'I don't want them to, they make you look distinguished.'

The suds rinsed away she took a bar of soap, wet it and rubbed briskly until she had a good lather. Then, hands on my shoulders, she polished my flesh with a hard, circular motion. Gradually she wandered down to my arse and around to my groin, tenderly rubbing my balls and washing my rigid cock. Now on her knees, she washed my thighs, my knees and my calves.

As she took each foot my cock was right before her. Gingerly she kissed the tip before opening her mouth and starting to suck it.

'No,' I told her. 'Keep that for the wrong time of the month. It's too quick. I could come before I'm inside you.' I pulled her up, took the soap from her fingers and quickly bathed her. 'When you're ready I'll stick it where nature intended. That way we both get to enjoy it.'

For a moment I was lost as I realised the implications of what I'd said. I was hardly conscious of massaging her breasts over and over while, moaning, she pushed them into my demanding palms. I was making love to her, not just fucking her. I wasn't just taking and using her as a sex object, a toy to satisfy my appetite. I was concerned to give her pleasure.

Gently I eased her against the wall, bent my knees and spread her thighs. Hands on her arse I pulled her onto my rock hard rod, slowly sliding all the way in. Tenderly I kissed her eyes, her lips, her neck as I rhythmically thrust in and out. Suddenly she stiffened, cried out and arched her hips into me. Faster, harder I drove into her until with the water cascading over our fevered bodies she triumphantly squeezed me empty.

As I withdrew she again took my genitals and lovingly washed them. 'Careful with the family jewels,' I said. 'Can't do without those bits.'

'And just you take care which pussy you stick them in.'

'And how do I decide that?'

'You don't. I do.'

This conversation was going places best avoided until I'd sorted out what was happening between us. Towel in hand I retreated to the main room. 'What do you want to eat,' I called.

'You.'

'Cannibal! Seriously, just toast and coffee or something more solid?'

'Toast for now, I'll organise something substantial for lunch. We can have it early.'

She came to join me one towel wrapped around her waist sarong fashion, her hair tied in another. As I cut the bread and filled the toaster she rubbed her bare tits against my back. I turned and planted a smacking kiss on each nipple. I was a young man again.

We sat and ate in a companionable silence, Amy staring out at the lake, me staring at her. I had a sudden thought - what was I going to do with her while I was conducting my survey?

'Next week - what are you planning to do during the daytime while I'm around the offices?'

She looked a little confused as if the question had not occurred to her. 'Work, as usual, in the office. . . Of course if you need some clerical help. . .?'

I'd always carried out my surveys alone; never considered I needed any assistance; but why not? 'Perhaps. Let me ponder the problem.'

It would keep her occupied and might take some of the mundane recording chores of my shoulders. Being bright enough to make it to university she'd easily cope, indeed it would probably be a waste of her talents. Maybe she could act as my assistant - I'd have to assess how much she could undertake without proper training. If nothing else it might help me recover the time lost by my delayed arrival.

'Right. You're on. I hereby appoint you as my special assistant - first class, temporary, lowly paid. Now, what shall we do with today? And no schoolgirl quips.' I wagged a stern finger at her.

'Nothing special. Maybe just chill out, have a swim, soak up some sun.'

'You haven't looked over there. It's becoming cloudy, seems like we could get some rain.'

'Then I don't know.' She looked around the room. 'I've just realised there's no TV, no DVD player, no books.' She suddenly grinned, 'You'll just have to spend the day screwing me.'

'God, girl! Have mercy. Us grey panthers need to be used sparingly or we wear out.'

'Stop pretending. You were the one who started by wanting me. So don't complain that I'm too much to handle.'

She had a point there. Now I was seeing the real Amy - bright, frolicsome, sexy. Why was I so lucky? Why had no man grabbed this pearl of a woman? This was no time to meditate on providence - no doubt in the future all would become clear.

Then it occurred to me - if she was to be my assistant she would need new clothes.

'I'm a consultant, a specialist and need to dress to advertise my professionalism, else they don't think they're getting their money's worth.' I told her 'If you're going to be my assistant you'll need to do the same. You'll have to dress the part. Slacks and blouse just won't do.'

She looked at me for a moment then without a word ran into the bedroom. Five minutes later she reappeared. 'Will this do?' She said with a broad grin.

She'd pulled her hair down into two short bunches and fastened one either side of her head with rubber bands. My tee shirt was tightly belted around her slim waist and made an effective ultra-mini dress. Her large, round glasses were perched on the end of her nose. She twirled round a couple of times then bent forward and mooned me to show she wore no briefs. Oh, she was delightful.

'Great, my dear, but we're supposed to study the business not create a riot. How about if we go look for an outfit or two?'

'Well I don't have anything much back home. Being a student I mainly live in jeans. I can't afford many clothes.'

'Righto, that decides what we do today. Shopping it is. We could also eat out, and maybe take in a film. We won't need to go back to the city. The map shows a small town further on up the road.'

'Are you sure? Don't go wasting money on me.'

'My God! A woman who doesn't want to go shopping! You never cease to amaze me. Anyway it's my money and I'll decide whether it's being wasted.'

We tidied up the cabin, reluctantly dressed and some thirty minutes later were heading on further up the road. Now I regretted not allowing her to bring bra and panties since it could prove awkward having her try on outfits without any underclothes. I put it to her that we should first get some bras and briefs since, although much I preferred her without any, she would need to wear them for work. She agreed the point, but was a little dubious about allowing me to choose them because, quite rightly, she sensed they would the sexiest I could find.

How well she was coming to know me. However, I was toying with the notion of having her wear sports bras, for if I revelled in watching her bouncy cleavage so would other men and that might encourage them to hit on her - which I could not, would not, accept. Wait though, there I was becoming emotional again. Surely I wasn't jealous over a young girl I had coerced into sharing my bed. Firmly I again put the thought from me, to be dealt with later - along with my other doubts.

Half-an-hour later we arrived at the town and set out to explore the shopping scene. It was a small place, something of a backwater and only ran to a couple of the local outlets of national stores, and two or three small boutiques; I made a beeline for the latter.

The first catered mainly for the young market and here we found a reasonable range of bras and thongs. At first Amy objected to my choice of thong on the grounds that they were far too expensive, though I sensed she was really more concerned about how miniscule they were, particularly since she thought I was going to have her wear them with a mini skirt. It seemed she was basically quite a traditional sort of girl - except where I was concerned. There was a clue there somewhere. Anyway I compromised and as well as half a dozen that demonstrated why they were called briefs also bought her a couple of high sided panties suited for a maiden aunt.

Bras were easier and we agreed on a some lacy, push up ones. For outer garments I had in mind a very simple, high quality, conventional look. This required a move to the next boutique down the road. Here I found just what I wanted and she was soon the possessor of two lightweight linen suits with knee length skirts and power jackets.

As we were leaving the shop it occurred to me that in the past I had been invited to dine with a board member or two. It was likely to happen again, but this time I could request that she partnered me instead of some woman brought in to even up the numbers who, inevitably, would either be built like a bus or have the brains of a jelly-fish. I was used to such working dinners and travelled with a monkey suit in my luggage but Amy would need a formal dress.

We were in luck. The shop had the perfect answer in a heavy, full length, watered silk gown. At first Amy protested that it was far too costly but gave way when I told her we could put it on expenses and the tax man would pay. Then she said it really wasn't her - she was definately a tee-shirt and jeans sort of girl. I agreed that mostly she was, and that is what I wanted, but that there were times when she would need to dress up. Eventually she relented, as I knew she would, for what woman can resist elegant clothes.

She disappeared into the fitting room leaving me to gaze at the other customers. 'I think that will suit your daughter,' the saleswoman remarked while I waited. I started to correct her then realised that it mattered little what she thought of my relationship with Amy. I gave a guarded grunt.

It was a different, more mature, elegant woman that returned, the dark green fabric contrasting well with her rich hair. The floor brushing hemline made her look taller, the tight waist set off her hips and the deep slash of cleavage emphasised her sexy, sensual personality.

The saleswoman fussed around spreading the skirt, adjusting the straps. 'What do you think, my dear?' She asked Amy. 'I'm sure your father likes it.'

Amy looked at her, startled, then at me. I put my finger to my lips and smiled at her to stay quiet. She got the message and pertly grinned back.

After that I had to buy the dress. It would forever mark a shared moment. We managed to keep straight faces until we arrived back at the car, then dissolved into gales of laughter. Blithely giggling we drove to a restaurant. There she played - overplayed - the dutiful daughter. It was 'yes, father dear', and 'no, father dear', and 'please, daddy darling', while I consulted her with a 'dear' here and an 'Amy darling' there.

We were having fun, enjoying being together, yet beneath it were both conscious that we were progressing to an inappropriate, possible risky, relationship. We had clearly fallen for each other.

Our leisurely meal complete, hand in hand we wandered down the main street, window shopping. I bought her an executive brief-case to go with her new role as my assistant but firmly resisted the lure of the jewellers. Maybe before I went home. Finally we came across the cinema.

What we saw I cannot recollect. I do remember with vivid clarity that we sat in the rear row like a pair of adolescent lovers. I had one arm around her waist, the hand cupping and fondling her breast; the other hand sedately, companionably, holding her's.

Afterwards we picked up a few more supplies and headed back to our playhouse in the woods. The journey passed quickly as we chattered inconsequentiality about a variety of subjects and I made one or two observations relating to her proposed duties as my assistant.

When we arrived she disappeared into the bedroom bearing her new clothes and I made shift to stow the groceries.

Then she called, 'Alec come here.'

When I entered the room she was beside the bed modeling one of her new bras and a thong. Unbelievably sexy, she raised her arms, enticing me to her; I kicked off my shoes and crossed the room and drew her close. Tilting her head forward, her eyes closed, she kissed me and thrust between my lips to explore my mouth. I put one hand behind her kneck and held her while our tongues danced together.

After a few minutes she eased back slightly and her hands unbuttoned my shirt and unzipped my trousers. She reached in for my cock.

'Ah! The valiant soldier is already at attention,' she said.

'What did you expect, Private John Thomas was obeying your orders.'

'Oh! Did I do that?' She grinned.

'It seems he's your's to command,' I told her.

'Oh! Goody, goody. My very own champion. I better put him to the test.'

She slid my clothes off me then stood back, looking down at my rampant prick, 'Present arms . . I mean cocks.' She rapidly unfastened her bra and slipped her thong down her legs.

'I told you clothes weren't needed here,' I observed sitting down on the ege of the bed.

'Is my aged master tired?' She giggled.

'Not so much of the "aged". And I've got a muscle here with more than enough energy to satisfy your demands.'

'Then I want it. I want it now. I want to feel you inside me.'

'Yes, Mam. As you command.' I slid back to the centre of the bed. 'Climb aboard.'

I thought the bed was going to collapse as she jumped on top of me to squat on her heels, her lithe body astride mine, her knees besides my hips, her nipples hard and shiny with sweat. Grasping her waist I positioned and guided her down, her damp cunni sliding over my hard cock, impaling herself on me.

Open mouthed she knelt above me. 'Oooo, yes. You may be a dirty old man but you have what it takes to please a girl.'

'I'm psychic. Just a glance at your tits and I know exactly what you need.'

She raised herself until I was barely in her then slammed down hard taking my full length. Eyes closed, leaning back, one finger rubbing her clit, she tried to force me even deeper. Her nipples were hard and sensitive as I reached for them, but she swatted my hands away.

'Keep still. I'm in charge.'

Beautiful, smiling, she started riding me; lifting and leaning forward until I was barely in her; sliding back down; grinding her mound against me; hoisting up again. She reached behind for my balls, not taking her eyes off my face as her unseasoned muscles squeezed my lance.

Her eyes were still tight shut, her mouth half open, her breathing loud and deep. She opened her eyes and gave a happy grin. 'Look at me, mistress of all I behold.' Gently she squeezed my balls, 'And of all I hold.' She increased the speed and power of her pumping.

Soon I could tell by her moans that she was getting close. Her hands were on her ankles, supporting herself and taking the load from her knees as she drove relentlessly up and down, like a rutting animal. I ignored her earlier wish and grasping breasts slippery with her sweat, pulling myself up to meet her pummeling.

Suddenly I could take no more and my seed cascaded into her. Immediately she responded, bucking madly and coming with a scream of, 'YESSSS! YESSS! YESS! YES!'

Slowly she went limp in my arms. Glowing with joy she smiled radiantly at me, wrapped her arms around my head and leaned down for me to suck a nipple. We lay for a while as my erection gradually subsided.

'If that's what those clothes do to you, then they were cheap at the price,' I said.

CHAPTER FIVE

Sunday produced the best weather of our brief stay at the cabin; sunny, warm, with just a light wind. We slept late and, yes, I did show Amy how lovers should wake up to a new day. No more remarks about age and room for improvement; not after I had given her a prolonged taste of the missionary position, then the doggy way and finally had her ride me until her knees protested at too much up and down motion; and that was just in the morning.

Meals took up much of our time. Sitting opposite each other on the porch we ate from trays on our laps. The intention was to enjoy both the breeze on our bare bodies and the view across the lake, but the scene that kept me entranced was Amy. Some women's bodies are best in the imagination - unwrap them and the actuality can be disappointing. Amy is the reverse. No matter what her raiment she is ravishing, a feast for my imagination; then I undress her and discover the reality is even more alluring.

I was addicted to her. I would forget to eat, lean forward, fondle and suck her beguiling boobs and feel myself well fed. She in turn would reach and massage my prostrate penis until it proved ready for a further feat of fun.

It was as well we prepared only a simple, cold meal since before we finished our mutual arousal forcing us back inside where I bent her over the table and drove in and out her tight tunnel with all the strength I could muster.

She was a marvel. She loved it gentle, she loved it rough, she just loved being taken. Where my stamina was coming from, let alone the quantity of seed with which I was filling her, amazed me. The golden rule is 'use it or lose it' and for some years now I'd hardly been using it, yet I certainly hadn't lost it. No doubt I would pay the price later with a bout of exhaustion; still I could always blame that on overwork.

Between times we talked. I told her of my boyhood in a small country town; of how my marriage foundered because my wife had wanted a career while I wanted children; of my work and how I branched out to form my own company. She told me of her solitary upbringing, a car crash before she was born condemning her to grow up fatherless; of her studies; of her hopes for the future.

Did I learn anything vital about her? Did she provide any great revelation? No, somehow I'd known from that first glance, that first shaft of emotional lightning, all that mattered, all that made her important to me. Yet her lack of a father niggled; had she selected me to fill an unspoken need? Or was that just kitchen-table psychology. It was too soon to be certain; I was too close to the problem; I would sleep on it.

After our carnal exploits a drowsy siesta seemed appropriate, but I steeled myself to become the hard headed man of affairs and decreed it time she was instructed in the duties of an assistant.

She jumped at the notion and, leaving my lap where she had been sitting combing my hair, sat herself before me and assumed the role of attentive student. Having no papers with me I was compelled to describe instead of show, but being a bright young woman she quickly grasped the principles. Not wishing to rush things I kept the first session short; I planned to add to her tasks as she gained experience, for I was already convinced she could assume much of the workload.

'That's enough theory for today,' I said at last. 'We'll see how you get on with those bits and, all being well, I'll add some more in a day or two.'

Lazily I levered myself out of the folding chair I'd been sitting in, looked at the lake and contemplated a quick swim then remembered a little chore I'd mentioned that first evening and not yet undertaken. Stepping across to where she sat I bent over and combed my fingers through the abundant bush of hair between her legs.

'Remember I said this needed trimming? Actually I think it nicer if a mound is shaved completely bare. Are you going to humour me and let me have my way with a razor?'

She looked at me somewhat apprehensively. 'Well. . . If you really want to.'

'Don't worry I rarely cut myself and I'll be extra careful with you. Now where would be best - the bedroom? Yes, I reckon on the bed, provided we don't splash too much.'