I Call Her Amy

Moving her knees slightly to get a better purchase she began to ride me. Long slow strokes; a measured rise, her cunni muscles clutching hard, then a quick drop, that rammed me into her. Soon I was half following her motion by lifting my hips to take her hard downward thrusts.

Then she was approaching her climax. She changed to a writhing circular motion of her hips that ground her pelvis against mine. Moaning softly, tits swinging and bouncing, her knees banged my hips. Suddenly she stopped, her head went back, her features tightened then grew slack. 'Yesssss. That's it,' she groaned.

My hands went up and grabbed her tits, holding her to me while I bucked and thrust up until I also began to cum. Motionless, her cunni muscles squeezing and slackening, squeezing and slackening on my shaft, she tried to pull out my every drop.

Empty, I shut my eyes and for a moment and seemed to sleep until Amy murmered in my ear, 'Wow, it gets better and better.'

We lay there on the imitation tiger skin rug, her legs resting across mine, breathing deeply, covered in sweat, exhausted and content.

Eventually we stirred and while she had a shower I wandered out for a swim in the lake.

While towelling off it came to me that I was famished. Somewhere along the way I seemed to have missed a meal. I couldn't be sure. Still it was time to discuss matters and when better than over food.

Entering the cabin I found that great minds definately think alike for Amy was already part way through preparing a simple meal.

As we ate I said, 'We need to decide what comes next. The wedding I presume.'

She grimaced, 'Nothing big. In fact the smaller the better. It's just for us, not for a hundred having a party, even if they are our friends. Anyway I don't want all that hoopla, or to be in the spotlight. Not that I've got any real friends locally, they've scattered around the country so it will take time to organise and by then I might be showing a bulge. No, let's make it simple.'

'I agree, I don't know anyone here. My friends are all back home. Tell you what, let's elope.'

'Brilliant! . . but don't we have to elope from our families, or some such.'

'No, it just means to runaway and marry secretly.'

'Where to?'

'How about Vegas?'

'When?'

'Now?'

'I'll get my coat.'

'And the green dress. I want to look so beautiful and elegant at the ceremony.'

'Yes, sir.'

EPILOGUE

When, that Monday morning, we flew back from Vegas on the red-eye the morning rush hour was past, but still the traffic flowing from airport to town remained heavy. Not that our slow, stop-go-stop progress bothered me unduly since I was in a state of euphoria. However my new wife kept interrupting our conversation to complain over every minor delay, it seemed she felt guilty at not telling her mother and was impatient to give her the joyful news that she was now Mrs. Alec John - and to tell her that she was going to be a grandmother.

Life had offered me a chance of happiness and I was grabbing it with both hands.