Chapter One

RORY WOKE AT THE sound of a pot clattering into a sink. It was sharp; a loud smack of metal against metal echoing down the hall to her room and penetrating the closed door. Eyes now open, she admired how the warm yellow morning sun hitting the lace curtains made them glow, and waited. It followed as sure as the sun follows the moon; Uncle Ethan swearing, "Fudge-ruckle!"

Rory had to smile despite hunger gnawing at her. She'd rarely heard her uncle swear like a man; to actually use a real cuss word. He had a dictionary of words he used instead, all of them funny. You couldn't take him seriously. He was far too amusing.

With a yawn and stretch, Rory flipped the sheet off and headed to the hall bathroom. As she did every morning, she turned the shower on, went to the toilet, then stripped off her pajama top, pajama shorts, and panties, checked the temperature of the water with her hand, adjusted it, and stepped in. First hair - shampoo twice, rinse well, then conditioner. Next body - soap neck down, then rinse. Mindless.

She thought about today as she did every year. It was her eighth anniversary and she wondered what Ethan had planned. He did it every year - celebrate the day she came to live with him. He'd insisted it was his celebration, not hers. She knew better. She knew, in the beginning, it was his way of making her feel better, but it had continued and become a tradition right up there with birthdays and Christmas and, she thought with a smile, any other crazy holiday he liked when the mood took him.

She turned the shower off, stepped out and set about drying herself. The mirror over the sink was fogged, a shadow of her reflecting. She leaned over the sink and wiped the mirror. Wrapping the towel around her, she studied her face, inspecting her skin for blemishes, pleased when she couldn't find pimples or blackheads.

With her special soap, she scrubbed her face, applied cream, and brushed her teeth.

When she left the bathroom, the familiar smell of the Atlantic Ocean hit her in the bedroom; salty and fresh. The solid wood floor, aged to a honey brown, felt cool against her bare feet. A lazy breeze stirred by the overhead revolving fan wafted her lace curtains. She paused and inhaled deeply. She enjoyed living here, on the edge of the ocean with the calming sound of surf reaching her. The air was humid and heavy. It was going to be a stinker of a day.

Excitement pulsed in her. It was the first week of summer holidays and she loved summer; the freedom to do what she wanted, no homework, no pressure, just laze around.

She pulled her dresser drawer open and selected a clean pair of panties, a soft cotton bra and, in the next drawer, soft pale yellow sweatshorts and a sky blue tank top.

Dressed, she walked down the hall giving cursory looks at the framed pages of old parchment on the walls. At the doorway to the combined kitchen and family room she paused.

Uncle Ethan was placing a pancake on a pile already made, his back to her. Through wide sliding glass doors she could see the lush vegetation of their back garden and, beyond, through the palms, a flash of tan sand and sparkling water - the Atlantic. Surf was low today.

Ethan, sensing her, turned and smiled. "Blueberry pancakes today."

Rory asked, "What would you do if I want cereal instead?"

"Eat all the pancakes myself," he answered, his blue eyes twinkling.

While he finished cooking, she set the old, heavy, oak kitchen table. It was war-scarred and ring-stained from decades of use.

Despite eight years living with him, she still couldn't see Uncle Ethan as the Forensic Document Specialist he was. He didn't look anything like an old fuddy-duddy. Just into his thirties, he was lean, average height, with sandy blond hair that, while short at the sides, was a little too long at the top. A fringe kept falling into his eyes. She noticed he wasn't wearing his horn-rimmed glasses; contacts meant some sort of physical activity was planned.

She'd never understood his love of old documents or why he was hired to validate them. Who cares about old paper? It was his forensic handwriting investigations for criminal and civil cases that caught her imagination; proving or disproving someone had signed a document; a death or murder hanging in the balance.

Sitting down at the table, she studied him. Her friends agreed with her: Ethan looked far younger than his age and their consensus was he was a gorgeous man. He was more than just good-looking. It was the whole package. It was eyes that sparkled with intelligence and a hint of fun, a smile that crinkled his blue eyes and, perhaps most important, a personality that her friends gravitated towards. He was so comfortable in his own skin.

"Here ya go," he said, placing a stack of pancakes in front of her. "Eat up. We have a busy day ahead and you'll need your energy."

Rory reached for the syrup. "What do you have planned?"

Ethan took a large bite of maple syrup-covered pancakes, chewed, swallowed, and grinned. "I just told you, a busy day."

With a quick laugh, she took a bite; light, fluffy, with summer-sweet blueberries and sumptuous syrup. "Mmmm."

Ten minutes later, Ethan finished, checked his watch, stood and took his plate to the sink, informing her, "You have fifteen minutes to get ready."

"Ready for . . ."

She was interrupted by the front door bell chiming. Ethan, rinsing dishes and the frying pan, asked, "Will you get that?"

Rory shoved the last forkful of pancake into her mouth and stood, still chewing. The front door bell chimed again. Waiting at the door when she opened it, Susie, Hannah, Peter, and several more of her school friends were milling around.

Susie smiled. "Hi, Rory! Great day for it, isn't it?" she said, squeezing by Rory to enter the house. The others followed.

"Great day for what?" Rory asked.

"A beach party! Ethan invited us. Some sort of celebration."

Rory smiled to herself. So this, she thought, is how he wants to celebrate this year - throw her a beach party!

Hannah asked, "What's the celebration for?"

Jimmy explained, "It's her birthday."

Susie immediately spoke. "Damn, girl! I didn't buy you anything!"

Rory, following the troop towards the kitchen, laughed, "It's NOT my birthday," and explained about the annual celebration of her coming to live with Uncle Ethan.

Susie stopped and stared at her. "Jeez! You're lucky! I wish I had an uncle like yours."

Hannah, overhearing Susie, smiled slyly. "I wouldn't mind having your uncle, if you catch my drift. I bet I could make him smile!"

"Hannah!"

Hannah laughed brightly, tossed her long blonde ponytail, and sashayed into the kitchen.

The kitchen, a large, airy room with a family sitting area to the left furnished with an old, comfortable and unattractive sofa and a modern entertainment center, was empty. Through the broad sliding glass doors, across the back garden, Rory saw Ethan loading the boat. A cooler and plastic shopping bags were piled on the wooden jetty, the boat bobbing gently.

"Go on out," she told her friends. "I have to change. I'll meet you out there."

The group headed out. Susie didn't, choosing to follow Rory to her bedroom. She sat on the bed while Rory changed into a swim suit.

"You're not going to wear that, are you?" Susie observed.

Rory checked her swimming suit in the mirror. One-piece, royal blue, simple. "What's wrong with it?"

"C'mon, girl! Put a bikini on! Be sexy! I'm wearing a bikini under these clothes. Show a little skin! The guys will appreciate it. I think," she added with a grin, "Peter has a thing for you. Play your cards right, shake your ass at him, and who knows what will happen."

Rory laughed and changed, selecting a powder blue bikini. "I'm not interested in him that way."

Susie countered with, "How do you know? Maybe he's a great kisser or has a humongous dick."

"Susie!"

By the time they reached the jetty, her friends were on the boat, outer clothes doffed and in their bathing suits.

Ethan, spotting Rory and Susie, smiled and extended his hand. "Turn them over."

Despite complaining, they both handed their Smartphones to him. He stored them with the others. It was one of the rules; no cell phones while on the boat. He claimed cell phones were destructive to socializing and, while Rory preferred to have her phone close by, she'd discovered he was right. Time on the water was much more fun without the distraction.

With everyone seated, Ethan untethered the boat and started it. It was his pride and joy; a Boston Whaler 370 Outrage. As the three outboard engines rumbled into life, the boys crowded around Ethan in the cockpit peppering him with questions and asking if they could pilot the boat.

Rory smiled and leaned back on the rear bench, turning her face up to the strong, hot sun. Behind her, three Mercury engines burbled, the boat easing back from the dock, then slowly swinging about.

"Hang on, guys," Ethan warned.

He opened up the throttles. The engines roared like a pride of lions. The prow rose dramatically and G-forces pressed her back into the seat as the Whaler took off like a greyhound, shooting forward, the bow slapping down on a plane, water splashing up. Suddenly, they were racing across the water, her hair flying everywhere. The scent of salt water filled her lungs. The breeze cooled her. And her smile grew into a grin.

She absolutely loved being on the water; maybe more than anything else. It gave her a sense of freedom and detachment from everyday life; a mini vacation. It must be what people who had summer cottages felt like, except she didn't have a long commute to get there; just walk out onto the jetty. Much better.

The Whaler curved out into the ocean and paralleled the Keys, rising and slapping down on tame swells. Twenty-five minutes later, Uncle Ethan slowed and eased the boat towards a small, sandy, and deserted island, a few stunted trees struggling to survive.

Time flew. Rory had fun and even enjoyed Peter flirting with her. He was cute, a bit shy, and trying too hard, but sweet. Uncle Ethan set everything up and chatted with her friends, at ease and smiling. She and her friends swam, laughed, and relaxed.

By mid morning, everyone was taking turns at waterskiing on the calm Gulf side of the island, Uncle Ethan piloting the boat. Rory acted as spotter. She could water-ski anytime and was the most experienced of all her friends. Besides, watching Jimmy plow into the ocean after twenty feet was funny; all arms and legs flailing away.

Lunch - subs and chips and fruit - was great, and conversation with Susie and her other girlfriends was funny as they watched the boys play Frisbee on the beach. They commented on each boy, some daring speculation on the guys' physical attributes making them laugh loudly.

Conversation revolved around which one of them would be the better kisser, which would be a better dancer, and the inevitable game of "If you were stranded on a desert island, which one would you . . ."

It was a great day, until mid-afternoon.

While Rory sunbathed on the beach, Susie, dripping wet, ran up, flopped onto her towel next to Rory and said, "I think Peter's got the hots for you. Have you noticed how his eyes are always on you?"

Rory had noticed. It pleased her even though she wasn't attracted to him in that way. She liked being admired. She liked knowing someone else found her pretty.

Susie continued without waiting. "And look at Hannah go! She's really flirting with your uncle!"

"No she isn't," Rory responded, watching Hannah talking to Uncle Ethan. "She's just being sociable."

Susie laughed. "You can't be that clueless, Rory! Look at her. She's smiling and laughing, flashing her pretty blue eyes at him, and look at how she's standing; chest out to emphasize her bust, one knee cocked, and she's standing so close she's almost rubbing her tits against him! Wait for it. She'll flip her ponytail, laugh, and touch his arm. There! See? Give her another hour and she'll be having him for dessert."

Rory had to agree. Hannah was completely misbehaving! A flash of indignation hit her which turned into anger in the blink of an eye.

Susie, oblivious, continued, "Not that I blame her. Your uncle is gooorgeous. Sort of an adult version of Sean Mendes. Clean-cut and sexy."

"He isn't!" Rory exclaimed.

But, as she watched Hannah flirting, Rory agreed. Uncle Ethan was handsome. Again, she felt a flash of anger at Hannah.

The rest of the afternoon was ruined. She was glad when they finally packed up and headed home.

Chapter Two

I WAS FEELING THAT special lethargy I get from a day of sun and water. Slouched on the sofa, feet up, the television on some nameless sitcom, I sipped beer and thought about the day.

It hadn't gone quite as planned. Rory seemed to be having fun but, at some point in the afternoon, she wasn't. Despite her laughs and smiles, I knew her too well. I could tell something was bothering her. Was it Peter? He'd been focused on her and obviously attracted to her. Yet Rory hadn't responded in more than her usual polite way.

Maybe it was something else. She'd been unusually cool towards Hannah. Had Hannah snubbed her in some way? Teenagers are complex animals.

Somewhat frustrated and disappointed in myself for not making the day special for her, I switched the TV off, turned the light out, grabbed a fresh beer from the fridge, and, with a low kitchen light providing illumination, went out onto the back patio. The air was thick, humid, the scent of vegetation strong. Sitting at the patio table, I inhaled the smell of salt water. Perhaps the soft sound of waves slapping onto the beach would relax me.

I knew whatever was bothering Rory would eventually come out. That was her way. She'd never been one to keep things bottled up. Rory would mull it over, dissect it, then talk to me about it. She'd always been that way, even at seven years old when she'd come to live with me. And I was grateful. It made my life easier, although Rory wasn't easy at all.

I caught myself smiling. I called her my little panther. She had a feline quality touched with a hint of danger. Her eyes were rare; very dark with tarnished flecks of pure 24 karat gold, intense and penetrating. Glossy dark hair added to the impression of a panther. But it was her teeth that really completed the image. Rory's canines were slightly longer than her other teeth, so when she smiled in a particular way and her eyes flashed, I felt like raw meat being contemplated for dinner.

I quite liked it - my feral cat. The way she moved only strengthened the image.

The sound of the screen door sliding back distracted me. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched Rory step out. Barefoot, wearing a thin cotton pajama top and loose pajama shorts, she walked over, sat in the wrought iron chair next to me, and propped her feet up on another chair without saying a word, her bronzed legs bare.

Silence.

I waited.

"Sorry," she finally said.

"For what?"

"For being a party pooper."

"They couldn't tell," I assured her.

She turned to look at me, her dark eyes almost glittering in the cast-off kitchen light. "But you could."

I nodded.

Knowing Rory, I remained silent. After a few moments of listening to the crickets singing their nightly song, she spoke again.

"Hannah embarrassed me."

"How?" I asked, giving it some thought. Aside from mild flirting - a common trait with fifteen-year-old girls, she'd done nothing embarrassing that I could remember.

Rory answered, "She was shamelessly flirting with you. It embarrassed me."

"It was harmless," I countered. "It's natural for teens to flirt."

"Not the way she was doing it! She was practically eating you up!" Rory exclaimed, incensed. "It was SO inappropriate!"

Smiling at her reaction, I told her, "Relax. I'm an adult. I can handle it."

Rory shifted in her chair as if dissatisfied with my comment. Suddenly, she announced, "I'm going back to bed. Night."

Watching her walk back to the house, I admired how adolescence was becoming more evident day by day. Rory was still growing. She was going to be a tall woman, with her natural slenderness adding to the perception of height. She'd been a late developer, much to her chagrin. Puberty had held off until she was almost thirteen years old and had dragged its feet ever since.

I'd enjoyed her discomfort when I'd had a talk with her, explaining about menses and periods and puberty. She'd squirmed and fidgeted and had practically run from the room when I'd finished informing her of the physical changes she'd started going through. Interestingly, periods weren't as embarrassing to her as my comments about body odor developing. She'd started taking daily showers from that day on.

I adored her and cherished having her in my life.

Never having found that perfect mate, Rory filled my life with companionship and life experiences. I doubted I'd ever have children of my own. It wasn't too late but, based on the effort I was putting into it, I was destined to be single. I didn't mind. I loved my work. I loved my home. And I loved my boat. What more did I really need?

Draining the bottle of beer, I stood and headed in. Ten to midnight. A lazy weekend ahead.

RORY TOSSED IN BED, flipping onto her other side. Through the lace curtains she could see shadows; moon light on the palms. Even with the windows open, the curtains barely moved. Above her, a ceiling fan turned slowly.

She was pissed and couldn't understand why. Closing her eyes, she replayed today at the beach, Ethan, Hannah. In hindsight, she saw how her uncle was amused by Hannah. She recognized his wry smile, the one he'd give when aware of someone trying to be subtle with him and seeing right through them. She'd been on the receiving end of it for years.

She frowned and tossed onto her other side. Susie was wrong. Uncle Ethan wasn't like an older version of Sean Mendes. He was like a young version of Robert Redford, the one she'd seen in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid Ethan had forced her to watch; same blue eyes, perfect features, sandy blond hair. And women noticed him. She'd see it every time they were out together - other women stopping to stare at him, or initiate conversations, flirt, and bat their eyelashes at him. Uncle Ethan, always pleasant to them, seemed oblivious to his looks.

Rory opened her eyes suddenly. That's what was bothering her! She was jealous! Now she understood her anger with Hannah. Now she understood her possessiveness and her unwillingness to share!

Confused, she tried to understand what had changed. She'd always loved Uncle Ethan. He was easygoing, relaxed, and had always shown her affection, even from the first day she'd come to live with him. She could still remember him comforting her when she cried out at night, another nightmare or afraid and feeling so alone without Mom and Dad. She could still hear him as he hugged her tightly on her bed, her body shaking, always saying the same thing; "Hush. I'm here. I'll always be here for you." And she could still remember how he'd worked on her to make her smile, then laugh, and eventually giggle, and how life had settled for her.

For eight years he'd been her rock, stern at times, frustrating too frequently, and impossible to get angry at. Every time she threw a tantrum, he'd laugh with obvious amusement, telling her, "Life's hard enough without adding anger to it, Rory."

Yet, somehow things had changed over the past year. Today she'd experienced an ache inside her, almost like pain in her stomach, when she'd seen him talking to Hannah. His smiles at Hannah had hurt her, she realized.

Why would she feel jealous?

Eventually, sleep took over. It was restless. She was tired when she woke up the next morning.

Chapter Three

SIPPING COFFEE AND READING the morning news in the kitchen, I was interrupted by a disheveled Rory entering. She looked sleepy, her hair mussed, was still in her pajamas, and was frowning. The frown wasn't that odd, but she always showered and made herself presentable before breakfast.

"What's up, honey?" I asked, setting the iPad aside.

"Nothing," she answered grumpily. "What's for breakfast?"

"Anything you want to make me," I offered, attempting to get a smile out of her. I failed.

"I'm not hungry."

"Then why did you ask what's for breakfast?" I asked.

"I dunno. Just because."

With a silent sigh, I got up to make breakfast. Something was bothering her and, contributing to her attitude, Rory had a habit of becoming grumpy when she was too hungry.

While I prepared scrambled eggs, I saw her contemplating me with those feral, gold-flecked eyes. Toast popped. I served both of us, adding glasses of orange juice. Without a word, I sat at the table and ate. As usual, I'd wait her out.

It came with her last bite.

"I was jealous," she informed me.

"Ah," I intoned, despite not having a clue what she was talking about. With that masterful response, I sipped coffee.

"I didn't sleep well because of it," she added, watching me closely.

"Mmmm-hmmm." I waited her out again.

"Well? Aren't you going to ask me why?"

"Why what? I know why you didn't sleep well. You just told me. Jealousy."

Her dark eyes narrowed dangerously. Had I gone too far?

She watched me like a cat spotting a mouse. "I was jealous of Hannah."

That caught me off guard. "What the heck would you be jealous about? Hannah hasn't anything on you. I mean, she's nice, but she's not even in your league."

"It wasn't her," she informed me, then fell silent.

Somewhat confused again, I said, "You have to help me here, honey. I'm sorta lost."

Rory let out a loud sigh. She looked down at her plate and fiddled with her fork. "I was jealous that Hannah had all of your attention. She was hogging you."

I laughed dismissively. "You know that's not true. I divided my attention equally amongst all of your friends."

"Just not me," Rory said softly.

My smile faded. "You have me every day, honey." This was a new side to her I was unfamiliar with.

"It's not enough."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

Rory looked at me. "I don't know. I don't understand it yet."

"So, talk to me. What's going on?"

Rory turned her gaze to outside. I waited. And waited. And waited.

With a sigh, she eventually said, "I think . . . Um . . . I don't want you to be attracted to anyone else."

"Huh? That doesn't make any sense."

"I know."

Pondering it, I asked, "Are you afraid you'll lose me if I am?"

She shook her head.

I waited and watched her wrestle with herself; playing with the ends of her hair, looking through the windows, frowns coming and going.

Eventually, she sighed and said, "No. I think what I'm saying is I want you to be attracted to me."

I was floored! My mouth fell open. I shut it. I'd never thought about Rory as anything other than my niece. I wasn't conscious of her having romantic feelings at all. Wasn't she too young? Yet, clearly she did, inappropriate or not. This was a very delicate situation.

Contemplating my response, I studied her as if seeing her for the first time. Her mussed dark hair, full of body, parted in the middle, fell in layered waves to just below her shoulder, glossy in the morning light. I studied her face and was shocked at what I saw. Rory wasn't the child I'd been holding onto in my mind. Childhood had fled at some point in the last two years and a beautiful young girl was emerging; her nose aquiline, cheek bones high, her wide mouth - with the small brown beauty spot on the left - much more lush than I remembered, her skin tanned a beautiful golden bronze. In her thin lime green pajamas, I noticed the hint of her bust. Rory was a blossoming woman!

Was that it? Was it hormones raging?

Whatever it was, I'd have to be very, very careful in how I responded.

"I'm honored, Rory. Who wouldn't be? A young lady as beautiful as you? But, I think you know it's not appropriate. Just give it time. You'll find some dashing young guy who'll give you butterflies in your stomach and make your chest ache."

Her dark eyes turned to study me openly. "What if I don't?"

"You will. Trust me. You'll have guys tripping over themselves to get your attention."

"Do you think, if we weren't related, you'd find me attractive in that way?" she asked.

It was easy to answer. "Aside from the related part and the obvious age difference, absolutely. You're my type; pretty and smart."

Rory smiled for the first time. Then a remarkable change came over her. Her gold-flecked eyes turned voracious, a thrilling hint of danger that spiked my pulse. Her canines appeared as her smile broadened. Gorgeous. Feline.

"You and Mom were both adopted, right?"

RORY SWEATED AS SHE washed the Boston Whaler in her bikini. Pausing to wipe her brow, she glanced at the house partially hidden by foliage. It was an odd house. Originally a small bungalow built in the early fifties, additions had been constructed over the last seventy years, none of them aesthetically consistent to the original. The house had no air conditioning except for a more modern addition on the left - the office and work lab Uncle Ethan had built to handle precious documents. In an odd way, the house was full of character.

Returning to her chore, she polished the bright work on the bow and let her mind drift. She liked cleaning the boat. It looked so pretty when it sparkled in the sun. It still amazed her that one book had funded its purchase. Uncle Ethan had named the boat after it - Lady Gutenberg.

She wasn't sure why a moldy old bible printed in the fifteenth century would be worth so much. Ethan tried to explain that, being the first ever mass-produced book using movable metal type, the Gutenberg bible was extremely rare and, with only twelve printed on vellum and his only the fifth of those that was a complete two-volume work, made it more valuable. Why would anyone use animal skin as paper to print on? Were books really worth that much?

She didn't care. The boat was great.

She stopped washing, grabbed the hose, and started rinsing. This morning's conversation with Uncle Ethan had helped her grasp what was bothering her. She'd figured out what was causing the ache in her stomach and tightness in her chest. She had a crush on him. When she looked at his face, she wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. She wondered what it would be like to be held in his arms, to feel his body pressed to hers; to feel desired, loved.

He'd understood, too. It was in his eyes. He'd studied her and she was sure she'd seen him recognize she wasn't a little girl any more. Even better, he hadn't reacted with horror or disgust when she'd suggested she was attracted to him in that way. His response, that he was too old for her, was rubbish. What did love know about age difference? And his insistence incest was wrong didn't hold water. They weren't biologically related, just legally related. That wasn't incest.

He'd been so adamant that nothing could or would happen between them, and that she was too young to know what she wanted. As if! She was fifteen now!

She thought about the boys at school, even the older ones, and nothing. She didn't feel anything for them. Not a trace of attraction. Then she considered Ethan and experienced the same reaction; her heart beating faster. She felt her nipples pucker and warmth blossom in her lower body.

Rory smiled to herself. Despite what Uncle Ethan said, she'd seen him studying her when she'd worn this skimpy green bikini to wash the boat, his eyes contemplative, appreciating. She'd deliberately walked with a swing to her hips.

Rory, smiling to herself, decided she was going to tease him until he couldn't resist her and would finally admit he had a crush on her, too - cuz he did!

It should be fun. She'd flirted with guys occasionally, but never seriously. How do you do it? Was it really as easy as those romance novels she'd read? Were guys that simple?

With a final inspection, Rory stepped off the boat, admired it, and started rolling up the hose.

I BENT AND PRESSED my eyes to the microscope, inspecting the swirls and pen strokes of the signature on the life insurance form. Standard Life Insurance suspected the signature was forged and, given it was a two million claim, they didn't want to pay.

This work was my bread and butter income; simple authentications. With a control sample of the claimant's signature from a letter, I could assess the insurance form with a high degree of accuracy. Or at least I should be able to.

Not today. I couldn't concentrate on the cursive signature on both samples. Rory was distracting me.

This morning had changed everything. My comfortable and settled life was no more.

Was it my imagination that she'd put an extra sway to her butt as she'd headed towards the boat? Or was it me?

This morning had changed our relationship. A genie had been let out of the bottle and I couldn't wrestle it back in. Rory was different in my eyes. In a rather simple bikini she looked more mature. She was never going to be well endowed, yet her small bust suited her. What I'd always thought of as a child's body wasn't. Rory, like a gazelle, had shape, subtle curves of adolescence on the brink of maturity, and I had to admit, it was rather spectacular.

Peering into the electronic microscope, I tried to concentrate and failed. I knew it was wrong and I knew I had the strength of character to guide us through this delicate stage of her development. Yet, I couldn't help acknowledging how amazing adolescence was on her. It was a stage of development I'd never given thought to. Now, I couldn't stop.

Was it natural to find blossoming females at her age attractive? Did society try to suppress a normal male reaction by making it illegal? And, if Rory wasn't related to me, would I welcome a bit of flirting?

Pushing away from the microscope, I sighed and resigned myself that work today was not going to happen. I'd hidden here in my office to distract myself. I never worked on a Saturday.

Restless with energy and mild frustration, I moved to the window and glanced out. Rory was collecting the hose and bringing it back to the house. She really was, to my eyes, quite beautiful. She was so my type. I had no doubt in my mind that, if I was a decade younger and she wasn't related to me, she'd be swept off her feet faster than you could say "Yabba-dabba-do." I adored her character, her personality, and the way she'd smile slowly, intelligence in her eyes; a look that would make me wonder what she was thinking. I had never been able to read her.

While she coiled the hose, I admired her lithe body. Now I could see the slight waist forming, her hips narrow and prominent, and the beautiful taper of her legs. Rory was blessed with good proportions. Her torso wasn't too long, nor were her legs. Every part of her was balanced.

She turned her back to me and bent to store the hose. I quickly turned away. She had a lovely behind, too.

Dagnabit!

I returned to the desk and, in an attempt to distract myself, peered through the microscope only to be interrupted by knocking on the door.

"I'm going for a swim. It's Saturday! You're not supposed to work on the weekend! Come swim with me," Rory yelled through the closed door.

Before I could answer, she opened the door. "C'mon! It's a beautiful day."

She flashed me a smile and wandered in. "It's cold in here," she observed with a shiver, rubbing her arms, then bent to look into the microscope.

"What 'cha working on?" she asked.

"Insurance fraud."

"Fascinating. Those signatures are the same. No fraud."

I laughed. "And what do you know about it?"

Rory straightened and grinned at me. "Nothing." She grabbed my hand and tugged. "You're not hiding away in here. Come swim. It'll do you good. Burn off some of that energy you seem to have."

Not ten minutes later, I chased after Rory as she ran down the wooden jetty, laughing brightly, her butt movement almost mesmerizing; so darn sexy.

She dove. I followed. Cold salt water doused my heated body; shocking at first, then slowly refreshing, and when I surfaced feeling human and in control, Rory surfaced in front of me. With her eyes full of mischief, tarnished gold flecks flashing, she smiled slowly revealing her canines and splashed me so accurately my open mouth was flooded. I choked, suppressed a gag reflex, glared at her, and growled.

With a scream, Rory took off, with me in hot pursuit. She headed straight out. I followed. Every time I brushed her kicking foot and tried to grab, she wiggled away, swimming as if her life depended on it. It did!

With an extra spurt, I caught her ankle. She started struggling and laughing at the same time. It didn't help. Slowly, I drew her in like a landed tarpon; one hand on her ankle, the other on her knee.

"Okay! Okay! I give up!" she yelled, laughing brightly.

Then she suddenly stopped resisting and turned, her body pressed fully against me. She hooked her arms around my neck and something happened that shouldn't have.

Suddenly, I wanted to kiss her laughing mouth. I could imagine it with absolute clarity and it scared the heck out of me.

Rory knew it, too. I could see it in her dark, gold-flecked eyes, now contemplative, her laughter passing to leave a small satisfied smirk.

Reaching up, I pried her arms from around my neck. "Race you back," I challenged.

"You'll lose!" she exclaimed, diving under like an otter.

I gave chase and lost. I didn't like losing, but there were unexpected benefits. As she waded up onto the beach, her bikini bottoms were stuck to her like a second skin outlining the glorious shape of her buttocks and butt crack, one buttock partially exposed. Sexy cheeks undulated as she walked over the sand. Rory reached behind and slipped a finger under one leg band, un-sticking her bikini. Unconscious or not, it was a sensual act.

Chapter Four

Bending over the manuscript on the lab counter, I tried to concentrate and yet again, I couldn't. For the last week, I tried to hide in work. I tried to avoid Rory without being obvious. She busied herself going out with her girlfriends or having them over, the house full of laughter and brightness and music. Occasionally, when on her own, she'd knock on the office door mid-afternoon and finagle me into taking a swim with her when the sun was at its most intense. I did. I behaved. And we had fun.

But . . .

Yesterday after the swim, I dropped into the patio chair to sun dry, feeling relaxed from an hour in the water, and Rory asked, "Would you like a drink?"

I nodded. "That would be great."

"Beer?" she asked with a grin.

She knew I rarely drank alcohol. I was an easy drunk. A few drinks and I'd be feeling it, my morals and tongue loosening.

"Bottled water, please," I answered.

"You're no fun," she accused lightly. Two minutes later, she handed me an icy cold spring water bottle. "Here ya go."

Rory sat at the patio table, turned her face up to the sun, popped open her Coke and sipped, sighing with pleasure. She brought her knees up, heels on the chair seat, and announced, "I love summer. We should go out on the boat this weekend."

"Okay."

Turning in the chair, gold dust sparkling in her eyes, she smiled. "I'd like to snorkel and have a picnic on the boat."

She casually hooked one leg over the arm of the chair and continued, "We could make a day of it and . . ."

I lost track of what she was saying. Inexcusably, I looked down. With her leg up, her bikini bottom was stretched over her pussy making it look full and bursting against the bikini; so very female. But, when I saw where a couple of short, glossy, jet black pubic hairs had escaped the leg elastic, I stopped breathing.

It shouldn't have shocked me the way it did. I knew Rory was going through puberty. Intellectually, I knew she must have pubic hair. But, actually seeing it hit me hard. Every man has his sexual kinks - parts of the female anatomy that arouse more than others - and mine was pubic hair. I loved pubes on a female more than shaved pussies. And, before I wrenched my eyes away from Rory's crotch, my mind's eye tried to complete the picture of what her bikini hid from view.

Guilt rushed into me as fast as arousal, blood flowing south.

"So you agree?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," I responded, turning my face away. Was the sun hotter?

That sight had stayed with me for the rest of the day. I couldn't look Rory in the face, ashamed of my reaction.

Yesterday, I had changed.

Shaking myself mentally, I went back to studying the manuscript on the desk. Was it authentic?

Several hours later, Rory knocked on the office door. "It's six o'clock! Time to quit!"

"Be out in a minute," I yelled.

After carefully packing the manuscript away in the safe, I left the office and strolled into the kitchen. Rory was at the counter peeling carrots. Barefoot, in tight light grey shorts with a pink waistband and a matching tank top, she seemed so slender. Her tight shorts did an admirable job of outlining her rather attractive small buttocks and a fine job of molding to her butt crack. Her tanned bare legs were long.

Her exposed shoulders and arms were golden bronze and her skin glowed, silky smooth. Dark, dark hair was layered to her shoulder blades, free and slightly wild - like her.

"What's for dinner?" I asked, opening the fridge for a bottle of water.

She glanced back at me. "Carrots and whatever you're cooking to go with them."

I laughed. She smiled, her eyes twinkling.

Still at the fridge, I opened the freezer and took out a couple of pizzas.

Rory's eyes widened. "You're kidding, right? Pizza and carrots?"

"What do you suggest?" I asked, feigning innocence.

"Real food. Anything but frozen pizza."

Hunting through the overfilled fridge, I excavated two thick pork chops and set about cooking.

Through the kitchen window, light was fading. Rain fell in a steady drizzle yet the temperature was still hot, air suffocating. With pork on the cast iron grill, I opened slatted kitchen windows and turned on the ceiling fan hoping for air circulation.

When we sat down to eat, Rory tilted her head and studied me. Eventually, I asked, "What is it?"

"Where's the wine?"

"What wine?"

"You said we could have wine with dinner tonight."

I couldn't remember agreeing to that. While I never denied her alcohol in the theory that denying her at home would make her want to consume it away from home, wine was rarely served. Usually it would be a beer.

"When did I agree to that?"

"Yesterday, when we were sitting on the patio. I asked if we could have wine with dinner Friday night. It's Friday night."

"You sure?" I asked.

Rory's eyes did their feline thing. She smiled, exposing her canines. "Which?" she asked. "That it's Friday night or that you agreed we'd have wine?"

I chuckled and shook my head. "Never mind."

A couple of minutes later, I served ice cold Petit Chablis into glasses and sat. She nodded with satisfaction, sipped the dry wine, and sighed with pleasure. I sipped mine and silently agreed. It was light and fruity, perfectly chilled, and dangerously delicious.

Dinner passed with Rory bringing me up to date on gossip and some fashion finds she'd made during the week. Over in the family side of the room where we watched TV, her cell phone chirped. She ignored it.

Rory was an odd girl. From what I'd seen of her friends, they were addicted to their Smartphones, hooked on social media, and had trouble carrying on a conversation without checking the status of their friends on Facebook, Instagram, or instant messaging every few minutes. Rory didn't seem to care about it. She was a voracious user of social media when the cell was at hand but would drop her phone somewhere, forget about it, and not worry. Like now. When her cell chirped announcing a new message, she didn't react. She wasn't addicted. And for that I said a silent prayer of thanks.

"Did I tell you today was boooooring?" she asked before reaching out for the wine bottle and refilling her glass.

"How so?"

She sipped, savored, and said, "I know you're oblivious to everything when you're working, but it's been raining all day. I hate rain. Why do you think I moved all the way down here? For sunshine. That's why!"

"You decided to move down here?" I asked with a grin.

"That's right! I could 'a chosen foster care! But I felt sorry for you being alone and all that," she responded quickly.

I laughed. While the circumstances of her moving here had been traumatic, Rory had long since come to terms with it. Talking about it didn't hurt any more.

"You should be thankful," she added, grinning.

"I am. Eternally. I like not having to do laundry."

She laughed. Then her expression changed, dangerous, mischief in mind. "Let's play Truth or Dare."

I poured my second - or was it my third - glass of wine, and considered it. I didn't have any secrets, so why not?

"Sure."

Rory took the last fork of food, chewed, swallowed, and asked, "Truth. Are you really glad I came here to live with you?"

"Deliriously. I love picking up after you and tripping over your mess and having to entertain you."

"Hey! It's truth, remember?"

"It's the truth. You make my life messy. Without you, it would be sterile and freakishly neat."

She smiled, satisfied.

"Truth," I said. "Which is more important to you; social media or fashionable clothes?"

She sipped her wine, the corners of her mouth upturned in a part smile. "Easy. Social media. Dare. I dare you to wash the dishes."

"That's a chore, not a dare. And what would happen if I refused?"

"You'd lose."

"So?"

"Then you'd have to do everything I say all weekend."

"Hold on! We didn't agree to that!"

Rory smiled sweetly. "Now we have. So, dishes?"

I returned her rather pretty smile. "If I win, you have to do everything I say all weekend. Are you sure you can live with it?"

"Uh-huh."

I stood to collect the plates, a bit unsteady from wine - not surprising. I really shouldn't drink. "Prepare to lose," I informed her.

The steam rising from the sink while I washed added to the oppressive humidity. I started sweating despite the light cotton T-shirt. Looking through the slatted glass kitchen window, I was pleased to see the drizzle had stopped. With cloud cover, inky darkness had arrived. Palm fronds rustled in a slight breeze. Behind me, Rory sat at the kitchen table providing no helping hand, chatting away brightly. I had a feeling wine was responsible. Still, her chatting made me feel good.

Dishes done, still sweating, I suggested, "Let's go for a walk on the beach. I need to cool off."

"Kay!" Rory jumped up, knocking the table slightly, the pepper grinder tipping over with a sharp rap. "Oops." She righted it.

We were both dressed for the walk; Rory in her tank top and tight grey cotton shorts, me in shorts and a tee, both of us barefoot. Cool wet sand yielded under my feet as we strolled. The surf crashed lightly, the sound not loud enough to drown out night crickets. It was very dark. The beach was deserted.

"Truth," Rory said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Do you really like living here alone so far from real civilization?"

I smiled. "We're not far from civilization. There's a Walmart in town."

"It's not New York," she commented. "So, do you? Wouldn't a big city be more convenient for work?"

"FedEx delivers. And yes, I love living here."

"Me, too," she admitted.

"I dare you to sing," I challenged.

"I can't sing."

"In that case, I win. The kitchen floor needs washing this weekend."

Rory started singing, "Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb . . ."

I laughed. She couldn't hold a tune. Rory laughed as well.

"I dare you to go for a swim," she challenged.

Looking behind at the two hundred yard walk back to the house, I said, "I don't feel like going back for a swim suit."

Not missing a beat, Rory countered, "I dare you to skinny dip." When I didn't respond, she added, "C'mon, don't be a chicken! I'll skinny dip, too!"

When I hesitated, she observed, "It's dark. No one will see us." She stopped walking and taunted me with a grin. "My closet badly needs reorganizing this weekend."

I'd always been competitive and I didn't want to lose. Glancing up and down the beach, I confirmed it was not only empty but dark enough for privacy.

Maybe alcohol lowered inhibitions or gave me courage. Maybe I was too competitive. Whatever it was, before I could change my mind, I turned away from Rory, tugged the T-shirt off, shoved shorts and underwear down, and ran bare ass naked into the water.

Rory whooped and hollered from the beach. Beautifully cool, refreshing water caressed my skin. Swimming naked was an entirely different experience; odd given it was only a bit of cloth that was missing. I swam enjoying the freedom, the coolness. When I slowed and treaded water, I saw Rory swimming towards me.

A couple of things happened that, with the effect of wine still influencing me, lowered my guard.

The clouds broke and moonlight lit the waves. Rory swam towards me and, noticing her bare shoulders, I realized she was naked, too; a young girl blossoming with adolescence. My body didn't care about our familial relationship and warm arousal bridged the age gap: Rory naked.

She arrived and treaded water a few feet from me, smiling. "I always love skinny dipping. It's so different."

Her comment made me wonder how often she swam naked. Then a shadow of jealously formed. Who was she skinny dipping with?

About to ask, she splashed water at me and dived under and off. I had the briefest image of shapely white, un-tanned naked buttocks flash at me and she was gone.

So was I.

Despite cool water, my penis thickened. Ashamed, I swam back towards the beach. Rory rose from the water like a ghostly goddess and walked up the sand to her pile of clothes. She was gloriously naked. Her golden skin contrasted with pale buttocks that moved with remarkable sensuality. I caught a glimpse of small, pale breasts as she bent to pick up her clothes and mentally groaned.

Rory was spectacular in a way I'd never experienced. Her body showed the slender, narrow-hipped shape of youth yet enticed with the onset of maturity; a magical, enchanting, and intoxicating blend.

I rose quickly from the surf, extremely conscious of a partial erection, mentally praying she wouldn't turn around before I grabbed my clothes. She tilted her head and wrung salt water from her hair. I had clothes clutched in my hand and covering my groin before she turned.

Gold flecks glinted in Rory's eyes. She smiled slowly, her canines emerging, and I felt that fearful thrill of being her prey. It was, without doubt, the most unique experience; blood rushing, heart thumping, helpless and excited at the same time.

God help me.

Chapter Five

RORY THREW OFF THE sheet covering her. Heat and humidity wasn't abating despite the wide open windows. Her light cotton pajama top was uncomfortable. She'd skipped pajama shorts, choosing to wear only panties. She was restless and unable to sleep.

She hadn't, for one moment, thought Ethan would actually swim naked. She'd dared him as a joke to win, and failed. At first shocked when he'd stripped and run into the ocean, and despite admiring his tush, she'd experienced momentary regret at challenging him. She'd have to strip, too.

She'd never seen Ethan naked before. Seeing him in underwear wasn't unusual. And he'd seen her in her bra and panties several times. But, naked? Never. And as she'd stood on the beach watching him dive in and swim, she realized that the prospect of him seeing her naked didn't embarrass her. Quite the opposite. It titillated her.

She couldn't imagine letting guys at school see her undressed, but letting her uncle see her was exciting. Was she an exhibitionist?

Rory groaned quietly and rolled onto her front.

She wasn't embarrassed by her body. In fact, aside from disliking her toes and occasionally wishing she had a bigger bust, she liked her body. And seeing Uncle Ethan's sexy blue eyes when he looked at her as she walked out of the water had made her warm, her body responding. He'd been staring at her ass - her best feature, she thought - and not seen her watching him.

She'd seen him naked, his penis thick, large but not erect, when he'd walked out of the surf.

In bed, Rory groaned again and touched her breast, squeezing gently. Warmth became arousal, her nipples growing sensitive, her pussy pulsing. Ethan had reacted to seeing her naked. She'd turned him on!

Horniness washed through her; heat, nipples aching, and blood rushed down, her pussy throbbing. She loved the feeling, how her body came alive, her skin sensitive.

Rolling onto her back, she reached down and cupped her pussy, squeezing, excitement building. With the image of Uncle Ethan naked and walking out of the surf, his lean body, his penis, Rory rubbed her cleft lightly, teasing herself, her other hand gently squeezing her breast. She wondered what it would feel like to kiss him and feel his naked body against her, skin against skin.

With a silent moan, Rory pushed her hand inside her panties, over her soft pubes, and down to cup her pussy. She was already wet. She curled her middle finger, bringing slipperiness through her slit to touch her clit and she shuddered.

She imagined Ethan's erection growing, hardening, and pressing to her body. Ethan excited by her. Ethan wanting her. Breathing faster, rubbing her clit faster, horniness growing like pressure inside, she pictured herself reaching between them to hold his erection. How big would it be? How hard? How thick? Would he groan with pleasure when she touched him?

Panting, finger now scrubbing her clit, Rory masturbated harder, her body striving towards something, pressure building. She thought about stroking him, making him harder, and imagined him whisper her name as he got close to cumming from her touch.

Rory's body tensed, muscles tightening. Squishing sounds started as she teased her clit, her pussy wet, warm, throbbing. Perspiration formed on her brow and below her boobs, her heart racing, and she tried to hurdle the final wall, to climax. Her body ached. She was so close to something; bliss promised. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, it eluded her. Her body refused to go that last little bit and, almost crying with frustration, she stopped, pulling her hand from her panties.

It was insufferably hot in her room. Her body ached. Why? Why couldn't she climax? What was wrong with her? No matter how she tried, she never got further than this point; the incredible frustration and anger at her body for not being able to release.

She'd heard her friends talk about orgasms. She'd seen women on the Internet climaxing and it looked like pure bliss. Yet all her body could do was get horny and feel wonderful tingles, never going the final step. Was that her orgasm? This sense of frustration? Of being on the cusp of something glorious but never arriving?

Rory turned onto her side and curled up. She wondered if sex was the key. Would sex give her the release she so wanted to experience? What would a climax feel like?

Sleep hovered out of reach. She tossed and turned.

I ATE THE LAST spoon of cereal at the breakfast table. The sound of Rory taking a shower filtered out to me. Outside, the sun was shining in a cloudless sky. It was going to be hot today.

I needed to burn off restless energy. My night had been disturbed, tossing and turning. I hadn't been able to erase the image of Rory's naked body lit by moonlight from my mind and felt worse for it. Yet, in her slender youth she was stunning.

I needed to be busy, I decided. A boat ride and fishing. Hadn't Rory said something about going out on the boat this weekend? Maybe I'd get her to invite her friends. It would distract me and, I admitted, I needed distraction.

"Morning," Rory said, walking into the kitchen.

She looked good with her damp, dark hair straighter than normal. Tight pastel blue cotton shorts emphasized her tanned legs. Her simple white T-shirt hung loose. She looked tired.

"Morning, sleepyhead. Rough night?"

"Uh-huh."

She plunked herself down in a chair at the table. I sipped coffee, then asked, "Do you still want to go out on the boat today?"

"Uh-huh."

"I thought you could invite some of your friends."

"No thanks. What's for breakfast?" she asked, studying her fingernails.

"Cereal. Do you have a hangover from the wine last night?" I asked.

"No. I'm fine."

Rory stood and went to make herself breakfast. I contemplated her odd behavior. Perhaps I'd embarrassed her with the skinny dipping last night, although at the time she seemed fine with it. Finishing the mug of coffee, I stood to make us a picnic. Maybe a day on the water would help.

Forty minutes later, three Mercury engines roared with throaty pleasure propelling us over the water at high speed as I headed south. Wind kept the heat of the morning sun at bay. I wasn't worried about us burning. We were both already tanned.

Rory sat in the seat next to me in the cockpit, wind making her dark hair whip around. She looked great in a bikini bra and shorts. The boat thudded through light swells and, an hour later, I piloted us west to the calm Gulf of Mexico side of Marquesas Keys, the southernmost of the Florida Keys.

We slowed and anchored, the boat bobbing gently. Heat rushed in bringing oppressive humidity. Perspiration formed.

Rory shucked her shorts, placed a beach towel down, and lounged back on the rear bench seat taking in the sun. I pulled out a fishing rod, baited the hook, cast towards the island, and waited Rory out. She hadn't said a word. Clearly she was wrestling with something. The longer her silence, the more troublesome her problem.

Thirty minutes later, I hadn't had a nibble on the fishing line. I was sweating and hot. Rory finally jumped up.

"I'm bored. I'm baking hot. And I'm tired of being pissed off. I wanna have fun. Let's swim," she announced.

I started reeling in the fishing line and Rory stood on the gunwale and dove gracefully into the water. After storing the rod, I prepared to join her when a piece of wet cloth slapped into my face. I reached up and removed it and was slapped by another.

When I understood I was holding Rory's bikini, my eyes darted to her in the water. She was smiling, dark eyes twinkling, and treading water that was clear enough for me to indistinctly see two small white breasts and the shadow of her dark pubic bush below

"Skinny dipping! C'mon, Uncle. It feels great!"

Lord help me! Rory looked so sexy, so illicit, and I had no control in how my body responded, ignoring my brain yelling at me how inappropriate this was. This wasn't nakedness under the cover of darkness. This was blatant nakedness, no secrets, no hiding.

Desire, like a rogue wave, slammed into me. My pulse spiked. The sun became oppressively hot. And blood flowed down bringing on the start of tumescence.

I had a few seconds to either shuck my swimming suit and dive in with a partial erection or not swim and try to hide an erection, and I knew what I wanted despite better judgment.

I shoved the swimming suit off and joined her, relishing the coolness of water as I dove in. Rory laughed brightly, clearly excited at our naughtiness. Fortunately, cool water solved the threatening erection and we swam, splashed, and had fun. I felt like a teenager again. And I studiously avoided looking at Rory anywhere but her face despite the tug of desire to study her naked body.

Eventually, we relaxed and treaded water. There was utter silence around us and no other human in sight.

Rory sighed. "I really like swimming naked," she informed me.

It reminded me of something she'd said last night. "When have you skinny dipped before? And with whom?" I asked.

Rory grinned at me. "Who says I've done it before?"

"You did. Last night you said you always love swimming naked."

"Oh. Yeah. I forgot."

"So? With whom?" I asked again.

Rory's eyes twinkled with amusement. "What's the matter. You jealous?"

"No."

Rory laughed brightly with pleasure and exclaimed, "You are!"

"No I'm not. You're too young to be swimming naked with the opposite sex," I pointed out.

"And yet, here we are," she countered, her eyes narrowing with mischief. She deliberately looked at my body in the water. "Naked as a baby. Why are you jealous?"

"I'm not." After a brief pause, I added, "Okay, maybe I'm a bit jealous." Surprisingly, it was the truth. What else had she done with some pimple-faced teenager?

Rory floated closer to me, now within arm's reach. Gold-flecked eyes studied me, a small smile at the corners of her mouth; a beautiful mouth, lips lush and soft looking. My pulse suddenly spiked. Cool water suddenly felt warm, especially at my groin.

For a moment, I thought she was going to wrap her arms around my neck and press herself against me, and I really, really wanted her to. I wondered what it would be like to kiss her.

Would I kiss her if she let me?

In a blinding flash of clarity, I admitted I would. Weight seemed to melt off me. I felt lighter, freer, liberated, and excitement mounted. I'd known how I adored Rory, but the acceptance of my sexual attraction to her added a delicious twist.

Rory laughed brightly, splashed me in the face and swam away. Shoot! Had she read my thoughts?

I turned and headed back to the boat, hauling myself up over the side.

Behind me, Rory yelled, "Nice tush, Uncle!"

I laughed and grabbed a towel for modesty.

"Aw, don't be shy!" she yelled.

I turned and leered at her. "You still have to get out of the water."

Her laugh was bright. She blushed slightly, then swam towards the boat. Her white buttocks rose to just under the surface. I quickly turned away and wrapped the towel around my waist.

The boat rocked. "What's the matter?" she asked from behind me. "Are you embarrassed by nudity? It's normal in Europe."

"Nope." I wasn't. I was embarrassed by my developing erection.

"You can turn now," she informed me.

Rory was grinning with amusement, a towel thankfully wrapped around her body. She sat on the rear bench seat, bent forward and squeezed water out of her hair, then looked at me speculatively.

"Are you really shy about nudity?" she asked.

"Generally speaking, no."

"Then why does seeing me naked bother you? I'm not embarrassed by my body."

It was one of those moments where you choose, and what you choose can change the course of your relationship. Choose to deflect and lie, and our relationship might get back on course to an appropriate one. Choose to be honest, and a world of possibilities opens up, all of them illicit and exciting. I didn't have the excuse of alcohol fogging my brain but something more powerful, perhaps the most powerful drug of all to muddle thinking - arousal. Arousal won the day; that deep, yearning desire in my gut.

"I'm embarrassed by my reaction to you," I clarified.

Rory contemplated me with her feral eyes, then she smiled dangerously, her canines emerging. "I turn you on, don't I? Good! You turn me on, too!"

Her smile broadened into a grin. "I dare you to drop the towel."

When I hesitated, she added, "I will if you will. We'll do it together."

Rory stood up and held the top of the towel where she'd twisted it to stay in place. "C'mon! Don't be a chicken. It's only skin. One, two . . . three!"

I dropped the towel from my waist. Rory might have studied me as intently as I studied her, but I didn't notice. I was too taken by her beautiful naked body.

It was a breath-stealing beauty; slender, youthful, and sexier than anything I could ever remember seeing.

Rory's body had the curves and dips of a female, just more subtle, younger, a work of art still in progress; a slight waist, very slender hips, soft curves of her butt and tapered thighs, her body tanned except for the two parts shielded by her bikini. Adolescence was exposed in all its glory in two small, widely spaced yet gorgeous breasts so firm they looked almost painfully ripe, with dark pink areolae and small nipples. They were gravity defying, proud, and petite, yet larger than I'd imagined when concealed by a bikini.

Even sexier was below. At the juncture of her thighs, Rory's pussy sported a small, sexy, jet black pubic bush. It was stunning!

I'd never seen anything like it. Her downy pubes were almost straight, fine, and looked like a brush had carefully groomed them from the edges towards the center and down; sparse at the edges, slightly denser in the middle, a soft fluffy, sexy bush. Her pubes were so young they hadn't even spread to the sides of her full, pouty mons. Still damp, they glistened in the sunlight, the incredible shape of her pussy clearly showing, her tightly closed cleft visible with a lighter dusting of silky soft pubes and, making me ache with desire, a wide gap at her crotch that exposed her rounded vulva.

I couldn't remember ever seeing such a sexy sight and my body reacted powerfully.

As if suffering from heat stroke, I became lightheaded, stunned at her exquisite body. Still absorbed, I noticed two small brown beauty spots; one below her left breast, another to the left above her sexy mons.

I loved lanky women with subtle, sensual curves and Rory was a perfect example; her body nicely proportioned, balanced, and so damned sexy. Even my dreams hadn't conjured up such perfection.

RORY STOOD QUITE STILL. Yet inside, she could feel small tremors; excitement, warm horniness blossoming, intensifying. Dropping her towel, she'd first seen Ethan's blue eyes. They widened, his stare intense, and she'd seen wonder in them that heated her body.

She'd lied. She'd been extremely nervous about exposing herself in broad daylight. But his response was incredible. He looked like he wanted to eat her, his desire so clear.

What had her body tingling, was his response. Uncle Ethan's penis had grown, thickening and lengthening slowly into a full erection, rising until it stood proud, straining out from his sandy brown pubic hair. It looked so large, bigger than she'd imagined. She'd felt herself respond, too. Her areolae had tightened, puckered, her breasts suddenly feeling heavier, fuller. Heat had flushed down to her pussy making it almost pulse, her clit tingling even though she hadn't touched it. She'd felt the sudden dampness, too. And in the pit of her stomach she felt a hollow ache; that feeling she'd get when horny and yearning.

She'd expected to have a bit of fun seeing Ethan naked, maybe be turned on slightly. But she hadn't expected this, a visceral reaction unlike she'd experienced before, reacting so strongly and so fast it caught her off guard. She knew, if he made the slightest move towards her, she'd willingly welcome him, kiss him, and do anything he wanted.

The sun was too hot, too intense. Her heart raced and she was almost panting!

"Holy heck, you're sexy," Ethan said. "I had no idea you're this . . ."

The spell was broken. She tore her eyes away from his erection and looked up at his face. He was serious! "Thanks," she responded, smiling with pleasure. "But you should have known. You saw me naked last night."

"Not like this. I mean, Jeez Louise, Rory!" His eyes trailed down her body and back up, returning to her face. "I think I just made a very big mistake."

Confused, Rory asked, "How?"

"You're only fifteen and I don't seem to give two hoots, even though I should."

"So?"

He flashed a grin at her. "I thought we'd have a bit of voyeuristic fun being naked together. I didn't expect this! You're . . . dangerously sexy."

Rory laughed with pleasure, let her eyes drop to his erection and return to his face. "And you're hard."

He glanced down at his cock and back up, giving her a slight grin. "Yup. Difficult to miss, huh?"

"No kidding!" Rory exclaimed, and felt her face heat up. "Do you mind if I stare for a while? I've never seen a real erection."

"Go ahead. I'm gonna stare for a while, too. Do you want a drink while we stare?"

Rory laughed. "I'll get them. Does it hurt when it's like that?"

She crouched down, opened the picnic cooler, and grabbed two bottles of water, tossing one to Ethan. After arranging her towel on the bench seat, she sat on it crossing one knee over the other, opened her water and drank deeply, her eyes back on his erection. It had softened slightly; not quite as rigid or pulsing as before. She still tingled with excitement.

"You didn't answer me. Does it hurt when you're so hard?"

I LAUGHED LIGHTLY. BASHFULNESS clearly wasn't a trait with Rory. Nevertheless, I was surprised. Aside from the one talk about puberty, we'd never discussed sex. It wasn't a subject we'd avoided, it just hadn't come up.

"No, it doesn't hurt, just aches," I informed her before taking a long swallow of icy cold water. Somewhat nervous about being on deck, naked with an erection and a naked underage girl, I scanned the water around us. Still alone, thank God.

I moved over to the aft bench to join her, sat on the cream colored vinyl and burned my ass. "Ouch," I yelled, leaping up.

Rory laughed at me. "Use a towel, you dolt!"

Distracted, my erection was softer by the time I sat next to her. There was a minute or two of silence. It was comfortable. No, it was better than comfortable. Both naked, there was an ease between us that hadn't existed before, a new consciousness, and it felt great.

Rory broke the silence, asking, "Are you uncomfortable talking about sex?"

"Yes and no. Socially, I'm very private about my sex life. I never talk about it and don't talk about sex with my lover to anyone but the woman herself. On the other hand, I have no problem talking about sex with a lover in private."

She pondered it for a while, then observed, "I've often wondered what you do for sex. You haven't dated much. Christie was the last one I remember and that was almost two years ago. Do you have friends with benefits?"

I chuckled. "Nope."

"So a dry spell, huh?"

I nodded, chuckling.

She spoke again. "Can I ask you personal questions?"

"Given that we're both naked, sure. But I might not answer them all."

Rory laughed once, then asked, "Do you play with yourself a lot?"

"If you mean masturbate, yes. A lot? I wouldn't know. How much is a lot?"

"I dunno. Once a week?"

"Then, yes. A lot."

"How often?"

"Two or three times usually. Masturbating is a normal and important part of a healthy sex life and it feels darn good, so why not?"

Rory sipped her water, looking off at the blue water. "What do you fantasize about when you do?"

I grinned. "Women."

"That's a relief," she responded sarcastically.

"In many ways."

Rory laughed.

I couldn't stop myself from admiring her breasts as we talked. They really were incredible; so firm and upright, small yet perfect, the darker areolae looking quite delectable.

She asked, "How old were you when you first started?"

"I don't really remember. Maybe eleven or twelve."

"Did you experience orgasms or just feel good?"

I cast my mind back. "Definitely orgasms, even though they were dry ones."

Then Rory shocked me by asking, "What does an orgasm feel like?"

"What do you mean?"

"An orgasm. What does it feel like?"

"Do you mean, is it different for girls than boys?"

"No. I mean, what does an orgasm feel like? I don't think I've ever had one."

"You're kidding!" I exclaimed.

"I'm not kidding. I'm serious."

"But . . . haven't you ever masturbated?" I asked.

"Uh-huh. I get horny and I masturbate. It's just," she inhaled and sighed it out, "I never seem to . . . I get to the edge and never . . . Well, I guess I'm just incapable of climaxes."

Shocked, I told her, "Everyone's capable of having climaxes."

"Apparently not me. I think I'm frigid."

"You're not frigid," I countered absentmindedly, thinking about what it would be like to never climax, never experience that glorious release, the rush of endorphins, and the sweet, languid peace that follows, warm and relaxed and satisfied.

"How do you know I'm not frigid?"

"Frigid is a lack of arousal or sexual interest. You told me you get horny, so you're not frigid."

"Then it's something else. Do you think sex would give me an orgasm?"

"No. I mean, yes. At least, I'd hope so. But if you can't experience a climax with masturbation, sex isn't the answer."

Somehow, this teasing, this sexual flirting, had become serious; serious enough for my erection to soften. "Are you doing it right?" I asked.

"I dunno. How many ways are there?" she asked.

"That's something I don't know," I admitted.

Silence returned. A slight breeze kicked up stirring the water and bringing relief from cooling sweat. I inspected the sky. Clear. Not a cloud in sight. My stomach rumbled with hunger, but now wasn't the time to eat.

"I thought if I kissed a guy it might help, but it didn't," Rory observed.

"What? Who did you kiss? When? Why?" I asked.

Rory laughed brightly. "Kevin. At the school dance last year. It didn't even arouse me."

"Maybe you were doing it wrong," I said before thinking.

"So I can't kiss properly and I can't masturbate properly. I'm a lost cause."

I laughed. "I'm sure you kiss wonderfully. What I mean is, kissing some guy isn't the answer. It needs to be a guy you have the hots for. The one that makes you ache and yearn and dream, that makes your pulse race and breathing difficult."

"You mean, someone I love."

"That would help. Yes."

"So kiss me," she said, turning to look at me.

Rory was perfectly serious, her beautiful eyes studying me. I could see she expected to be rejected and, for that reason alone, I didn't. Leaning towards her, turning slightly, with a small smile, I pressed my lips to hers.

Rory reacted, immediately opening her mouth wide and I backed off.

She looked surprised. "What happened?"

I brushed her cheek with my thumb. "You don't go from zero to a hundred when kissing. It's supposed to turn you on."

"So, what am I supposed to do?"

"Close your eyes and do only what I do."

Her gold-flecked eyes studied me, then closed, her face turned up to me, waiting. Man, she was pretty.

I brought my mouth close to hers, lips not touching. Her breath wafted against my face. Her nostrils flared as she breathed deeply, expecting, anticipating. Then, I brushed my lips against hers with a feather light touch, her lips silken, and backed off.

I did it again, a light brush, then carefully pressed my lips to hers, gently, softly. Inside, it struck me I was actually kissing her! I was kissing Rory! And boy, was it exciting!

Easing off, I brushed my lips across hers and murmured, "I think I like kissing you."

Before she could respond, I pressed my lips to hers again, this time with a bit more pressure. Her lips were so soft and warm, so arousing, and my body responded, an erection slowly reforming. Desire washed through me, hot and demanding. I stroked her bare arm lightly feeling her invisible, baby-soft body hair, her skin hot from the sun.

Before ending the sweet kiss, I sucked her plump lower lip, then eased away.

Rory's eyes opened slowly. "Gawd! Don't stop now," she groaned.

I smiled at her. "I've only just begun. Close your eyes again."

When she did, her face waiting expectantly, I kissed one corner of her mouth, then the other, brushed my lips lightly across hers, then settled my mouth over hers. She smelled like suntan lotion and heat.

Rory actually moaned and pressed her mouth against mine. Our lips moved against each other. Her hand slipped around my neck. I removed it and ended the kiss with a slight brush of my tongue on her lips; a flirting touch.

"Let's swim," I suggested. "I'm hot."

Rory opened her eyes and groaned. "Me too."

Her eyes dropped to my lap and she grinned. "You're horny again."

"Yup. I said I was hot."

With that, I dove over the side. Rory laughed and followed, diving gracefully into the water. She popped up in front of me, smiling, and treaded water.

"I like kissing you," she informed me casually. "I think I need more lessons. I've been doing it all wrong so far. Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure. Go ahead," I encouraged.

"I think I'm an exhibitionist. I like exposing my body to you. The way you look at me makes me feel good about myself. Is that bad?"

"Nope. Feeling confident about your body makes you even more beautiful."

Rory smiled. "Thanks. So, if I wander around the house naked, you won't mind?"

"Actually, I probably would."

Rory, surprised, asked, "Why?"

"You'd distract me from work, and constant erections aren't good for my health."

She laughed, obviously pleased. Then those magnificent eyes got a glint in them and she smiled her feral smile sending shivers of excitement through me. Jesus, I loved that look!

"But if I did, you'd have to deal with the problem, right? Masturbate. Could I watch?"

Somewhat stunned at the speed with which our intimacy was growing, I didn't answer right away. How had we progressed this far? Naked together, then kissing, and now me masturbating in front of her? This was a slope slathered in oil and I was sliding down it without control!

She added, "We could do it together. You could watch me. Maybe you'll see what I'm doing wrong."

I had a flash of an image; Rory playing with herself on the bed, me watching and . . .

Shaking myself, I asked, "What the heck happened? How did we get from being so normal last week to this, being so openly sexual with each other?"

Rory, casually, replied, "It wasn't last week. I've been dreaming about you since last year."

"Really?" Why did that please me?

"Yup. I don't know why, but you're the sexiest guy I know." A worried expression formed. "You're not going to back away now, are you? We're just beginning to have fun."

There was a shred of morality left in me that battled for attention. It crumbled when I looked at Rory, her pretty face, her beauty, and pictured her naked body, a young goddess in my eyes, free and easy with me.

The decision was easy. I grinned. "Did I mention we're not genetically related?"

"Yup."

"And what happens at home stays inside the home?"

"Or in the boat," she suggested with a grin. "I'm fifteen. I'm not naïve, Ethan."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Yay!" she exclaimed, swimming to me and hooking her arms around my neck using me for support. "Gimme a kiss. I need another lesson."

This was the first time I had her naked body pressed to me, her small breasts remarkably firm against my chest. I reached around her waist with one arm and she shoved me under. Inadvertently, I swallowed saltwater.

Thrashing to the surface, I coughed. Rory was laughing at me. I wasn't amused. Suppressing the gag reflex, I finally calmed and grinned. "You and saltwater don't mix."

"Then let's get in the boat. I'm hungry now."

For a moment, I was happy that my partial erection had waned by almost drowning. It didn't last. Arriving at the side of the boat, Rory climbed out first and gave me an eyeful of erotic sights. She pulled her lithe body up and bent over the gunwale, and her exquisite ass was exposed forming into a heart-stopping shape. At her crotch, her lightly dusted pussy emerged, cleft tightly closed and framed by sweet buttocks, slender thighs. It filled the gap; so friggin' ripe! She hooked her leg over and rolled into the boat, but not before I watched her cleft flower open to expose her clitoral hood and the dark pink interior.

I hung onto the boat and banged my forehead against the fiberglass, heart racing, an erection swelling, my eyes closed, and tried to calm myself.

"What's the matter?" Rory asked.

Looking up, Rory was leaning over peering at me. She seemed genuinely clueless to the show she'd just given me. "Just resting for a moment," I answered.

"Well, hurry. I'm hungry and I'm not waiting for you."

By the time I hauled myself into the boat, Rory was sitting demurely with one knee crossed over the other, inspecting the ham and Swiss sub sandwich in her hands. Her dark areolae were puckered; very nice.

I tore my eyes away, kept myself turned from her while toweling off and, with a sub and a softened erection, I sat next to her, yelped at the burning hot seat and jumped up. Rory laughed at me.

"You know what?" Rory said while we ate. "Talking about sex turns me on. Does it turn you on, too?"

"Mmmm-hmmm," I mumbled with a full mouth.

She glanced at my crotch. "It doesn't look like it."

Swallowing, I explained, "Food's more important."

"Stop! Don't move!" Rory exclaimed.

I didn't, my eyes searching for a snake on board.

Rory leaned over and kissed the side of my mouth, her tongue licking. "Mmmm. Mayo."

I burst out laughing. She was utterly charming.

Chapter Six

Sun was dropping towards the western horizon turning the sky purple and royal blue when I piloted the boat to the jetty. We were back in swimming suits, but Rory had complained when putting the top on. Apparently, her boobs were sunburnt.

While she lugged the cooler and garbage bag up to the house, I set about rinsing salt off the boat. Rory informed me she was going to shower and treat the sunburn with aloe vera.

After lunch, Rory had suggested some more kissing lessons and I'd declined. Anticipation heightens pleasure, both for her and for me. I had every intention of kissing her again, and again. She was like a drug to me; so young, sweet, and deliciously spicy. But there was more. I'd watched this charming girl grow up since she was seven. I'd experienced her childhood, her sweet innocence, how fantasy blended with reality in her play, how she would skip for no reason other than she was happy, and how she involved me in her activities by force of personality.

She'd gifted me with companionship I'd never known I missed and amused me endlessly with her temper tantrums and stomping foot, and all I'd been able to do was laugh at her. Perhaps that's why she'd grown into such a forthright young lady. Or perhaps it was in her genes.

From very young, Rory had used the same look with me; that glint in her eyes. But it was only with the growth of her adult teeth, when canines emerged, that her smile had changed from impish to feral; my dark-haired panther, a hint of danger that thrilled and vaguely scared me.

My problem was I adored her. I was helpless in my attraction, even knowing it wasn't right. It was the only cloud on my mind. Would I ultimately harm her? Was she truly mature enough to handle an intimate relationship with me? For that matter, was I?

Perhaps it would be wise to take it slow, give her every chance to back away or not, her choice.

"Where the heck are you?" Rory yelled from the house. "It's dark. I'm hungry! Haven't you finished yet?"

"Be right there," I yelled, chuckling and shaking my head.

Finishing the last of the fresh water rinse, I headed back, coiling the hose as I walked. Darkness had set. Crickets had started their nightly song. Ahead, the kitchen and family room windows glowed bright with lights.

"It's about time," Rory commented when I stepped through the glass doors, closing the screen behind me. She looked sweet in an overly large red Budweiser T-shirt - mine. It fell to mid-thighs, her bronzed legs and feet bare. Her hair was tied at the nape of her neck and still damp from her shower, tendrils loose and framing her face.

She gave me the eye and a frown. "Dinner."

I smiled back at her. "I have to shower first."

"Dinner," she insisted. "Or I won't kiss you any more."

With a laugh, I shrugged and headed to my bedroom, yelling back at her, "Life's a beach."

Hopping and shucking my swimming trunks while heading to the bathroom, Rory made me jump.

"Your ass is sunburnt," she informed me from behind.

"Is it? It doesn't feel burned."

She followed me to the bathroom and leaned against the door frame. Unconsciously, she rubbed under one boob. "Want me to put some aloe vera on it?"

When I looked at her, she grinned at me. "It helped my sunburn."

I turned the shower on. "Thanks, but no need."

"You sure? You might like it. I might, too."

I laughed, dropped the swim suit into the sink and stepped into the shower. The water was cool everywhere except my ass. There, it felt hot. I guess my ass was sunburned after all. I was too manly to admit it to Rory, though.

She was gone when I finished. I picked the softest boxers I owned, soft sweatpants and an olive green T-shirt that had been in my possession forever.

Rory was absorbed with her Smartphone, slouched on the sofa, her head resting on the arm. The television was on. I set about making dinner. I was famished. A day of sun and water does that to me.

All in all, it had been a great Saturday and I wanted to celebrate. In the refrigerator, I found a lost Rolling Rock beer and opened it. "Happy National Anti-Boredom Month," I said, taking a sip.

Rory responded with a "Huh?" from the sofa. "Did you say something?"

"Nope."

Dinner - fresh grilled, crispy-skinned salmon with a lemon-dill cream sauce, new potatoes, and fresh green beans - was easy to prepare and consumed voraciously.

Rory, stomach full, mellowed and smiled again, her world rebalanced. She left me to clean up, flopped and stretched out on the sofa, and resumed texting. An occasional laugh or giggle reached me.

I took my time washing dishes. It wasn't my favorite chore, but I liked a neat and organized kitchen. It made cooking a joy and I loved cooking.

Drying my hands, I contemplated dessert. Cool ice cream would go down well. With a bowl of vanilla drizzled with chocolate sauce, I meandered over to the sofa.

Rory, without looking up from her Smartphone, raised her legs to give me room. I sat. Her feet settled in my lap. I switched the TV to a news program and savored each bite of ice cream.

"Give me a bite."

I leaned over and fed her a spoonful.

"Mmmm. Good," she announced, still concentrating on her Smartphone.

On the news, a new healthcare act was announced along with the commentary that most of the GOP Representatives hadn't even read the act before voting for it. American politics. Gotta love it. Insanity legalized.

"Gimme another bite."

I extended the spoon towards her. She levered herself up, opened her mouth and cleaned the spoon, relaxing back. "Mmmm-mmmm. Really good."

The ice cream was finished. One spoonful left. I carefully scooped up the chocolate sauce and melting ice cream and savored the final bite.

"Another," Rory demanded.

"It's finished."

"I want more." She twisted, her feet leaving my lap.

I was gifted with a flash of cotton panties under her T-shirt before she stood and headed to the freezer. They were white with pink elastic, printed with small roses and daisies.

My mind's eye was occupied, news forgotten. Of all the articles of female attire, panties are my favorite . . . by a country mile. To me, a naked girl isn't nearly as erotic as a girl wearing nothing but panties. It's the combination of seeing an intimate piece of clothing that covers the most intimate part of her body, and the way panties shape her pussy. Stretched cotton and deep-seated elastic leg bands give pussies a lushness, plump and straining against cloth. It lets the imagination take flight. It fosters erotic ideas of touching her there, feeling the remarkable shape of her pudendum, the warmth and soft suppleness; so sexy.

I shuffled on the sofa. My cock responded, stirring awake. Warm desire washed through me, welcome and exciting.

Rory, with a bowl of ice cream, sat, turned, slouched back against the armrest, and stretched her legs out, her feet settling in my lap again. She smiled and ate a spoonful of ice cream, emitting an "Mmmm."

"Give me a bite," I suggested.

Her enchanting eyes became sneaky. A small smile played over her lips. "Nope. This one is all mine."

Charming.

"If you want more, get your own," she suggested.

I chuckled and turned my attention back to the television, absentmindedly rubbing her feet in my lap. I squeezed one and Rory let out a moan of pleasure.

"Do it again," she instructed.

"Give me a bite of ice cream," I countered.

"Nope."

For the next little while, Rory wiggled a foot every so often, a hint; massage me. When she finally stopped, I squeezed one foot hard, and Rory moaned with pleasure again.

"Gaaawd, that feels good! Do the other one."

"Give me some ice cream," I suggested with a smile.

"Nope."

Rory bent one knee, pulling her foot off my lap and left the one she wanted massaged in place. Her T-shirt slipped down from mid thigh and once again I was treated to the sexy sight of her panty-clad pussy, so full and luscious at her crotch. My cock stirred anew.

Rory pulled the hem of her T-shirt down, covering the sexy view. When I glanced up at her face, a cat-like smile emerged.

"Give me a proper foot massage and you can ogle my panties all you want."

"Deal!" I agreed.

She smiled, pulled the hem up to her waist, and edged her knee open, giving me an unobstructed view of fifteen-year-old pouty perfection. God, it was sexy!

Rory wiggled her foot in my lap. I started massaging it, squeezing her sole and stretching her toes. Rory closed her eyes and purred with pleasure.

Strangely, her foot in my lap aroused me even more, the weight adding to my excitement. My cock continued to swell.

Without shame, I studied her pussy. Panties are couture at its finest. Sexy cotton stretched, outlining the seductive shape of her vulva in the gusset. Below, the edges of her buttocks pressed to the sofa. The horizontal seam of the gusset bisected her pussy and above, the single layer, thin cotton formed tightly, so tightly I could see the hint of her cleft.

It was a fantastic sight, erotic beyond compare, made more so by being panties of a child - cute more than sexy. And in my mind, I dreamed of brushing my fingertips over her panties, tracing her cleft, teasing her into horniness, and palming her whole pussy.

She pulled her foot from my hands and replaced it with the other. I started massaging it, lost in my own little universe.

When I finished, Rory tugged her T-shirt down, placed both bare feet in my lap, wiggled them, and asked, "Did my feet turn you on? Or was it my panties?"

It was the first overt sexual touch between us, and it was thrilling.

"Both," I informed her with a grin. "You've got sexy feet."

"No I don't. They're ugly."

I studied them. Sure, her two big toes were stunted - sort of squat and short and broad - but she had eight beautiful toes remaining.

"They're cute," I assured her. "I like them."

"You're biased."

For the next half hour my cock throbbed gently. Arousal kept my blood flowing.

Then Rory pulled her feet away and stood. She stretched and yawned, the hem of her T-shirt riding up to give me a short peek of her cotton-coddled pussy, then falling.

"I'm tired." She bent, watching my eyes, smiled slightly, and brushed her lips against mine before pressing in a soft kiss. "Night," she murmured.

As she left the room, over her shoulder, she said, "Happy National Anti-Boredom Month."

I had to grin. She'd heard me earlier.

By the time I picked up her bowl and her sandals, and made it to bed, I had a raging erection and, in the dark, I stroked myself replaying every erotic moment of this most amazing day; her glorious naked body, her incredible small breasts that suited her young body perfectly, her sensual pubic bush, succulent pussy, and those remarkably sexy cotton panties coddling something I wanted to coddle rather desperately.

Release was wonderful, powerful - intoxicating bliss. With peace and relaxation permeating me, I fell asleep with a smile. Life had taken a strange and delightful turn.

RORY GROANED WITH FRUSTRATION and stopped rubbing her clit, pulling her hand from inside her panties. She'd been so close to something and couldn't slip over the edge. It frustrated her to the extreme; this unsated horniness was driving her nuts.

It was worse now. All the sexy flirting and nudity had made her wet with arousal. Tonight, she really liked exposing her panties to Ethan. The look in his eyes - pure desire - gave her such a feeling of power. It made her feel so wanted, so pretty, and so incredibly sexy.

But strongest of all were his kisses on the boat. They'd sent spikes of heat through her. She never knew kissing could be so erotic. The way he kissed her, not just with his mouth but with his eyes, made her feel like he loved her, adored her, and she couldn't shake the ache it stirred in her.

She loved him. She wanted Ethan so desperately it hurt.

Chapter Seven

Rory woke up with newfound determination. Sunday. Today she was going to do what she wanted, and she wanted Ethan. Now, how?

Sun brightened the lace-covered windows. She rolled out of bed full of energy, her mind busy, and peed, showered, and started dressing almost mechanically. She stopped dressing.

Today she wanted to be sexy for Ethan. What would he consider sexy? She browsed her underwear drawer, selecting and discarding panties and bras. Blue nylon? No. The white pair with a lacy front panel? Maybe. Or . . .

Rory shook her head. She was doing this all wrong! She should wear things that made her feel sexy! If she felt sexy, he'd respond and see her as sexy. Wasn't that what he'd said?

It made her choice easy. She was dressed in a flash. She returned to the bathroom and used a touch of eyeliner, studied the effect, and nodded to herself. Of all her features, she liked her eyes the most. Since she was eight years old, Ethan had told her the flecks dancing in her she eyes were pure gold, "The most beautiful eyes in the universe, Rory."

She straightened, brushed her dark, thick hair again, smoothed her light blue and yellow blouse, undid one more button, straightened her short matching blue skirt, and nodded to herself. Ready. Watch out, Uncle!

He was standing at the kitchen sink sipping coffee from a chipped mug and staring out across the back garden to the dock. She paused to admire him. Not too tall, slender, muscular but not muscled. Her favorite part was his slender waist and great ass. Why? Who knows! But that ass!

"Happy World UFO Day," she said.

Ethan turned with a smile, paused and studied her, foot to head, then grinned. "Be still my beating heart. Now I know what I want for breakfast."

Rory laughed lightly, pleased. Her nipples puckered up and rubbed against her silk blouse, teasing, nice. She liked not wearing a bra. It felt like being free, naughty and fun. Just wait until she rubbed them against him!

"What's for breakfast?" she asked, moving into the kitchen area.

Ethan nodded towards the refrigerator. "I've made fresh fruit salad. There's granola and yoghurt to go with it if you want."

"Yum!" Freshly made fruit salad was one of her favorite breakfasts. She loved the complex mix of grapes, strawberries, different melons, peaches, apples and seedless oranges all in their own juice. Who needs granola?

"Let's eat on the patio before it gets too hot," she suggested, opening the fridge. "Get bowls and cutlery."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered with a smile.

"And take those glasses off and put contacts on. It's Sunday. You're not working today," Rory added. He only wore the horn-rimmed glasses for work.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Hurry up. I'm hungry!"

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

Rory straightened with a large bowl in one arm, a yoghurt container in another hand, used her butt to close the fridge door, and said, "Stop ma'am-ing me and get moving."

"Yes, ma'am," he responded, putting the mug of coffee down and heading to the bedroom.

She liked his deep laugh. "You're such a numbnut!" she yelled after him.

She had the patio table set up before he emerged. Morning sun was bright. It hadn't burned away the dew or slight coolness on the hardy Bahia grass. Tall palms formed by off shore breezes, bent like arthritic old men, providing shade. Tropical plants flowered everywhere adding a profusion of colors and scented the air. A large Royal Poinciana tree next to the side of the house was in full bloom - a fifty-foot torch; its large fire-red blossoms so full they obscured the leaves. Rory inhaled deeply. She felt really good.

"Finally! It took you long enough," she commented when he sat at the table.

"Contacts didn't behave," he told her, helping himself to a bowl of fruit salad.

Rory finally ate; cold, delicious fruit bursting with juice and flavor in her mouth. "I'm heading into town to meet friends today," she told him, watching him closely. She liked the flash of disappointment in his blue eyes, gone almost as fast as it had arrived.

"Okay."

"What's the matter? Did you have other plans?" she asked nicely.

He shrugged. "Nothing that can't wait until International Town Criers Day."

"When's that?"

"Next Saturday."

Rory laughed. "You don't play well."

Ethan grinned. "Not if you're going to be in town today."

"So, what do you suggest?" she asked sweetly.

"Anything you want."

I FELT A SPIKE of excited fear at the expression in Rory's face. I was the mouse, cornered again. It was so thrilling, especially now when I knew there was intimacy in the equation.

She looked absolutely edible in her silk blouse and short skirt. And I knew from watching her move and how the blouse draped on her that she wasn't wearing a bra, which only excited me more.

Perhaps best of all, it was clear Rory had plans. It was the hunger in her gold-flecked eyes, and how she asserted herself that made me almost shiver with anticipation. She was gorgeous. And I was being hunted. Fantastic!

I loved her confidence. I knew I'd gladly go wherever she led me.

We ate in quiet comfort. Rory finished her second bowl of fruit salad, drained her glass of orange juice, and sighed; her stomach dealt with.

Then those eyes turned to me, speculative, assessing. A hint of a smile curled the corners of her mouth. My hand was a bit shaky when I put the mug of coffee down.

She stood and moved to me, staring at me, swung one leg over my lap, and settled; a light, slender, and gorgeous girl.

"Today," she informed me, her hands settling on my shoulders, "you're giving me more kissing lessons."

A shudder of excitement hit me. With a hint of a smile, I asked, "Remind me. What did you learn yesterday?"

Rory's eyes twinkled. She leaned closer, her face near mine. I could smell orange juice on her breath. She stared into my eyes.

"This," she murmured, kissing the corner of my mouth lightly. "And this," she added, kissing the other corner.

My hands settled on her slender waist.

"And this," she said even quieter, brushing her soft lips over mine.

My heart rate jumped.

With a small smile, her dark eyes expanding to fill my vision, she continued, "And this."

Rory pressed her mouth to mine, her lips silken and warm and exciting. She murmured and moved her lips. I responded, my hands stroking up her back to hold her. Drowning, I closed my eyes. Then Rory sucked my lower lip and brushed it with the tip of her tongue.

Her quiet, "Mmmm," vibrated through me and, when the kiss ended, it took me a moment before I opened my eyes. I wanted to burn the kiss into my brain. It was the single most exciting kiss I could remember.

She was watching me, her face hovering close, her breath wafting at me.

"Jesus, Rory," I sighed.

This time, I pulled her back into another kiss, tilting my head, my mouth settling on hers fully. With silky lips pressed to mine, with the excitement of kissing her - such a young girl - thrumming through me, I tasted her with the tip of my tongue, brushing her lips.

There was no hesitation. As if we'd been kissing forever, Rory responded, her lips parting, her tongue emerging to touch mine with a little flirting introduction and, as if a tsunami slammed into me, the kiss descended into passionate in the blink of an eye.

Rory's mouth opened. Our tongues caressed in an erotic dance and suddenly I was probing into her mouth, holding her tightly. There was no pretense left. My cock responded, thickening and lengthening under her, desire building; I was aroused, dazed, and yearning.

We kissed deeply and I couldn't stop myself. I brought one hand from her back to her side and, with my heart hammering in my chest, I cupped her breast over her blouse.

God Almighty it was exciting! Rory's breast, without a bra, was small yet perfectly formed. Her silk blouse slipped and slid as I fondled her, exploring the shape of adolescence and it was beautiful, stunning, so incredibly firm, and more arousing than anything I could remember. I teased her areolae and the small bead of her nipple and felt her shudder. Her breath panted through her nose, brushing against my cheek, her tongue frisky, active.

When the kiss ended, we were both breathing faster. I still had her petite breast in my palm, and horniness raged through me.

Rory's lips looked bruised and swollen. Her eyes burned with intensity. And slowly, ever so slowly, a smile formed. Light danced into her eyes - utter pleasure. She wiggled on my lap, showing she could feel my erection. Sweat shorts couldn't confine it.

With a final gentle caress, I moved my hand from her breast to her back and held her gently, loving how she felt, her youth intoxicating.

My world narrowed to just us. I ached with desire. And as I explored the feelings inside me, I realized I had no doubts left, no hesitations, no worries. Rory was going to become my lover and that thrilled me.

"Lift up," I urged her, guiding her with hands on her waist.

She rose from my lap. Inside my shorts, my erection surged up against my stomach. Boxers couldn't contain it. I let her settle down.

Her eyes spoke volumes; surprised at first, then pleased, and with a careful wiggle - her pussy pressing on my shaft - her eyes softened and heat returned. She smiled and tried to tease me with a rub.

Instead, Rory shuddered and exhaled, "Oh Gawd," quietly, her smile fading. Staring at me, she said, "I'm so . . ." then shuddered again when she stroked her pussy along my shaft.

I pulled her close, guided her head to my shoulder, and whispered, "Let it go. Relax." Reaching down, I held her ass and urged her to move.

Rory nestled her face to my neck. She carefully humped my erection, slowly, shuddering with almost jerky movements. Moving my hands to her hips, I helped, guiding her up and down. The pressure of her pussy on my erection felt wonderful. Even better were her slight shudders of pleasure and her warm breath on my neck.

Rory humped me slowly. It wasn't smooth. Tremors shook her and quiet panting whispered in my ear. Gradually, in the warmth of an early morning sun, Rory moved with more confidence. Astride me, she humped my shaft, her arms tightening around my neck. For what felt like forever, Rory moved on me. Yet, I sensed her tensing and remembered her admission that she'd never experienced an orgasm.

Could she now? Could I help her? Perhaps.

I rolled my butt to the edge of the chair, leaning back and giving her a better angle to rub against me. She humped me, curling her hips, her breath ragged. A quiet moan of frustration emerged.

Hugging her, I kissed her head and whispered, "I love this. I love how you feel, Rory. Can you feel how hard you make me?"

Rory groaned, humping against me, her pace increasing.

"You're so sexy," I whispered. "Are you wet?"

She moaned and nodded, her breath panting, hot, fast.

I reached between us and fondled her breast, teasing her nipple. "You have beautiful breasts," I murmured. "I dreamed I made love with you last night and it was wonderful."

Rory moaned. Her hips curled, her pussy pressed hard against my cock.

Kissing her hair, I murmured, "I want you so much, honey, it hurts."

Rory let out a sudden grunt. Her body froze. She gasped, "Oh God!" and, as if jabbed with a cattle prod, her body shook violently as she climaxed. She cried out her pleasure, her pussy scrubbing my shaft. She shook and trembled and gasped, "Oh God! Oh God!" humping me hard. Her legs clamped against my thighs trying to close. She tensed, shivered, and collapsed, gasping for air, her body melting and growing heavy.

And then she started crying.

I held her and let her cry, her body trembling, her sobs quiet. How hard was it to live with a body that responded with arousal, tingling and exciting and tense, only to never find release? Could I have handled it without going crazy? Never.

For the next few minutes I held her. She gradually quieted, her face still buried into my neck. She sighed deeply and sat up, her eyes still glistening, and she smiled, at first shyly with a dusting of color on her cheeks, then broader, her eyes sparkling. She glowed the way girls do from post-orgasmic pleasure; simply stunning. Leaning in suddenly, she smooched me, giving me a hard kiss, sat up and laughed brightly. Damn she was gorgeous!

"The bestest EVER!" she exclaimed. "I came! I actually came! I'm not broken!"

I laughed with amusement. "You were never broken."

"I thought I was," she informed me, then wiggled her butt. "You're not hard," she observed.

I wasn't! So involved with her experience, I'd lost my erection. Even stranger, I didn't mind.

Her face suddenly turned pink and she tried to scramble off my lap.

"What's wrong?" I asked holding her tightly.

"I have to change."

"Why? You look great." When she didn't answer, I said, "Really. You look great."

Rory blush intensified. She forcefully struggled off my lap. "I think I wet myself, you doofus!"

She ran to the house and disappeared, sliding the screen door behind her hard. I chuckled. Then I got horny again thinking about her getting wet. Life had become very interesting.

Still turned on, I stood, gathered breakfast dishes, and headed in to wash them. Rory was very sexy in a cute way. I liked her honesty and how small things were making her blush more that I'd ever seen before. It charmed me. She was dangerously enchanting.

Ten minutes later, as I was rinsing the last plate, Rory spoke from behind me.

"Let's do it again. I have a lot of catching up to do." Her arms slipped around my waist from behind. She hugged me and sighed. "Thank you for . . . everything."

Drying my hands, I turned in her arms and held her narrow hips. "You're welcome," I said with a grin.

Her dark, extraordinary eyes stared into mine. "I mean it. Thank you." Then she rose up on her toes and kissed me. It was a different kiss. Chaste, with lips closed, it lingered; Rory expressing affection.

When it ended, she gave me a tight, tight hug and sighed. My chest ached with a bout of adoration.

Chapter Eight

The rest of Sunday morning was taken up with chores. Rory attacked the cyclone-hit disaster of her room, collecting dirty clothes for laundering - her job. I mowed the lawn, front and back, then set about cleaning the interior, vacuuming and dusting, washing the kitchen, and washing the bathrooms.

It was mindless work I enjoyed. I liked a neat and clean house. And it let me think about Rory. She made me smile. She was bouncing on her feet, full of energy and smiles; altogether, a very happy girl. For the first time, she hadn't complained about cleaning her bedroom or doing the laundry.

Amazing what a bit of sexual relief can do.

I tried to worry about where our relationship might go, but couldn't. The one doubt I'd had, a worry about how it might affect her, had been washed away by her gasps of pleasure this morning. Selfishly, I wanted to experience more of her sexy climaxes. Could there be anything more beautiful than a young girl cumming?

With the second bathroom sparkling, I wiped my brow, collected the cleaner, mop and bucket, and headed to the kitchen for a cool bottle of water.

Rory was at the kitchen table, leaning back in the chair, and chatting away on her cell phone. She let out a short laugh. "I'm not kidding." She glanced at me, blushed lightly as she smiled, and said into the phone, "It was amazing! I can't wait to do it again."

A bolt of fear hit me. Who was she confiding in?

"Yeah. Tomorrow. Okay. See ya there at ten." Rory put the Smartphone on the table.

"We need to talk," I informed her.

"Kay. Why?"

"Who were you talking to?"

"Susie. Why?"

"Were you telling her about us?"

Rory laughed. "Is that what you think? Relax. I'm not stupid. I was talking about the new H&M store in town." Then, with an amused shake of her head, she added, "I'm not doing anything to risk us. It's too good."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

She stood and came to me. Arms slipping around my waist, she rose on tiptoes and said, "Give me a kiss. You'll feel better."

I combed her thick, dark hair back, studied her pretty face, wondered how I could be so lucky, and kissed her. It was a soft kiss, full of affection, and it stirred my blood again. Kissing Rory was such an illicit pleasure and could she kiss! Her lips moved, pressure, and she murmured, "Mmmm."

My heart was thumping when it ended. I grinned. "I taught you well, grasshopper."

Rory returned my grin, just more impish. "You need practice." With a bright laugh, she let me go. "And I'm hungry. It's lunch time. Want a sandwich?"

Finally grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I asked, "What are you making?"

Rory nudged me away from the refrigerator and peered in. "Ham. With lettuce and tomato. Want some?"

"No thanks."

"You sure?" she asked, carrying the makings to the counter.

"Uh-huh."

I didn't like her sandwiches. Rory regarded mayonnaise as a food group; the main ingredient carried by bread and ham. I watched her slather it on both slices of bread, then lick the knife clean. Ham, tomato, and lettuce were casually tossed on the bread, the sandwich closed, cut in half, and she took a big bite.

"Mmmm." She looked at me and held the sandwich out. "Wanna try?"

"No."

"Your loss."

Her tongue emerged to wipe a dollop of mayo on her lip.

RORY COULDN'T REMEMBER BEING so happy. She felt like dancing and couldn't stop smiling. Sunday was passing too fast. It was already past four.

She glanced over at Ethan reading a book. He'd put his glasses back on and looked very professorial in a Robert Redford kinda way.

She still basked in the glow of her climax, the memory so strong. Nothing in her imagination had come close to the utter pleasure she'd experienced this morning. The relief that there wasn't something wrong with her was liberating. Climaxes! She'd been missing so much!

Sitting quietly on the sofa, she tried to understand what was different this time. What made her cum? Was it feeling Ethan's erection against her pussy? It was so hard, surprisingly hard. Or was it the way he held her gently? With a flush of warmth, she remembered his whispers when her body had hit the wall and tensed, frustration emerging. He'd said he dreamed of making love to her and how much he wanted her and it was then that her climax had exploded, uncontrollable, utter bliss.

Rory sighed to herself. All day she'd flirted with him and he'd responded every time, welcoming her hugs and kisses. She'd suffered from constant arousal, and even had to change her panties twice! This new intimacy with Ethan was thrilling. It made everything sharper and more enjoyable, even doing the laundry.

Rory shifted on the sofa again. She was still horny, her pussy throbbing.

By bedtime, she was aching. In bed, she let her mind relive kissing Ethan goodnight. Then it turned to this morning, sitting on his lap and feeling his erection under her.

She groaned quietly in the dark, excited, and touched her breast over her pajama top, squeezing gently, rubbing her aching nipple. Heat rushed down to her pussy. Reaching down, with her other hand, she pushed inside her panties, over her soft pubes, and cupped herself. Small pulses of pleasure washed through her. With familiarity, she curled her middle finger, the tip easing into her slit, finding slippery moisture and drawing it up, her heart beating faster.

A shiver hit when she caressed her clit, pleasure coursing through her, and, eyes closed, she replayed humping Ethan's erection, the excitement, the thrill. She rubbed her clit faster, hips moving, and tried to picture Ethan cumming as she humped his shaft. What would it look like? What would it feel like when he spurted? Warm and wet?

Panting, perspiration forming on her brow, she strove for sweet release, closer, closer, so close. She rubbed her clit faster, harder, and nothing; just agony and frustration! Why!

Anger hit. What was wrong with her?!

Her body ached for release. It was painful and frustrating and annoying. Damn! Damn!

An idea flashed. Before she could talk herself out of it, she rolled out of bed and walked down the hall to Ethan's open door. Expecting him to be asleep, she saw him awake, eyes open, looking at her. Moonlight cast interesting shadows and angles on his face.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I tried to . . . Um . . . I still can't . . ."

"Okay," he said with a smile, lifting the sheet.

Relief flooded her. She slipped into his bed. It smelled of him, masculine and delicious. His arm welcomed her and she rolled into his side, her arm across his bare chest.

He kissed her hair and, as if reading her mind, asked, "Same problem?"

"Uh-huh. I don't understand why."

"Frustrating, I bet."

"You have no concept," she informed him.

"I do. You've been teasing me all day. I know how you feel."

Rory laughed lightly. "But you can do something about it. I seem incapable of it."

"It'll happen. Just give it time. Your body's still learning."

"I want what I experienced this morning."

"Me, too," he agreed, his eyes twinkling.

Rory smiled and sighed. "Kay. How do we start?"

"Getting undressed would be a good place to start, and very exciting, if I say so."

"Okay." Rory rolled away from him and unbuttoned her pajama top. She tossed it on the floor and reached for her panties. "What about you?" she asked when he didn't move.

"I'm already naked."

Rory dropped her panties on the floor and rolled back into his side. "Really?" she asked, brushing her hand over his chest, then down his stomach, her excitement building. The edge of her hand touched the tip of his cock. Trembling slightly, she settled her palm over it, closed her fingers, and held an erection for the first time; thick and hard and warm, and surprisingly soft skin!

Her pussy clenched, wet, throbbing, and aching for attention. It was so exciting to hold him. She stroked him. He reached down and stopped her.

"What's wrong?"

"I've been horny all day. It won't take much for me to cum."

She squeezed his erection. Ethan inhaled sharply, his eyes closing briefly, opening when she let him go.

"You said you're horny, right?" he asked.

Rory nodded. "Badly."

"In that case, why not repeat what you did this morning?"

Rory smiled. She liked the idea. Rising to her knees, she pulled the sheet down. Ethan didn't move, just watched her with his sexy blue eyes. She looked down and inhaled quietly. His erection was laying on his stomach, hard, thick, the tip inflamed.

She shuffled down, swung her knee over him, and edged up supporting herself with her hands on his stomach. Excitement made her heart race.

Still staring at his cock, she settled her pussy on the shaft and a shudder shook her. Gaaawd it felt good! Her nipples tingled. His erection pressed along her slit. Then, as she let her full weight down, she felt her lips part, his shaft pressed firmly into her slit. He felt so thick against her, so hard. The tip poked out.

"Like this?" she asked, her voice sounding a bit shaky to her.

"Oh yes," he whispered. "This time it's my turn."

Pulling her eyes away from his penis, she looked at him. "Your turn?"

He smiled. "Yup. My turn to feel good. It's been a hard day. Get to work."

Rory giggled and whispered, "Kay. Your turn." Excitement thrummed through her.

Hands still supporting herself on his stomach, she carefully rubbed her pussy up his erection and shuddered at the sensation against her clit. Arousal stormed back, hot and urgent. She eased her pussy down, his tip rising from his stomach. Another wave of pleasure hit. So freakin' good!

She reversed. Suddenly, he was slippery from her pussy. She was so wet, hot, aching. When her clit rubbed over his crown, she reversed. Muscles in her thighs trembled. She tried to exert some control over her body, to mute the storming arousal, and almost succeeded. But, Ethan reached up and cupped her breasts, his thumbs rough against her sensitive nipples, and Rory groaned. It was too much. Selfishly, she humped his erection faster, her clit tingling, drowning in the sensations hitting her.

Heat built inside. Her pussy throbbed. She felt herself getting wetter. And pleasure washed through her in waves, beautiful waves gaining strength, building in intensity. His erection sliding through her cleft felt unbelievably good, too good.

When Ethan carefully squeezed her breasts, then lightly pinched her nipples, Rory lost it. She had no control. Her body moved of its own accord, humping his erection, pleasure blossoming, heat. She humped faster, harder, and saw a bead of clear liquid ooze out of the tip of his cock.

Shudders hit. She started perspiring. Her heart raced. She panted for breath, chest tight. And still Ethan caressed her breasts. She scrubbed her pussy along his thick cock, the shaft rubbing along her cleft, spreading her, gliding, so horny now.

Pressure built, body taut. Almost there.

It hit suddenly, viciously; glorious release, pure Heaven, bliss crashing through her stealing her breath. She heard her loud grunt as utter pleasure exploded up from her pussy and blossomed in her head. She gasped, shook uncontrollably, humping his cock, humping him, sweet release. Her arms gave way. She fell forward onto him, and still her orgasm raged.

She felt him grab her ass and move her, using her, undulating under her, fucking her slit, and, in the middle of her climax she heard his gasp, felt his cock swell, and hot wetness flooded against her stomach; Ethan cumming! It strengthened her climax, his cum hot and slippery, pulse after pulse spreading. Rory gasped for breath, her climax cresting and passing. She collapsed and hugged him, her heart racing, her body empty. Small tremors shook her; remnants of her orgasm fading.

Slowly, she calmed and lethargy set in, sweet peace. Ethan hugged her. Evaporating perspiration on her back chilled her. She didn't want to move. She wanted to stay like this forever, feel this way forever.

Then Ethan spoke.

"And not even a kiss. I'm too easy."

Rory giggled silently. Rising onto her elbows took a Herculean effort. Ethan was smiling at her. She kissed him. He smelled different, very sexy.

"I'm tired," she told him. "Can I sleep here?"

Chapter Nine

I WOKE UP WHEN Rory stirred. She turned towards me in her sleep and sought comfort, cuddling like a kitten. Dawn was just breaking.

I watched her. I watched her nostrils flare as she breathed slowly. I noticed how long her dark eyelashes were. I studied the shape of her mouth, lush and sensual in sleep. In my eyes, she was deeply gorgeous!

Moving very carefully, I rolled to face her and gathered her in my arms, slender and naked, warm, so alive. I caught the scent of her, different in sleep, yet intoxicating, beautiful.

My orgasm last night had been long overdue and wonderful. Cumming with a climaxing girl on top of me had been incredible. But, what did it say that this, lying naked together in the morning light, was even better?

What did it say about me, that I'd forgo the sexy play if I could wake up every morning with Rory in my arms? Rory naked, her warm, silken skin against mine, her quiet breaths stirring the hair on my chest?

I caressed her bare back. I explored the shape of her shoulder blades and the bumps of her spine. I discovered silken body hair at the base, just before the swell of her ass. My fingertips found the start of her valley and my palms traced the shape of her buttocks to each side. Rory was blessed with an exquisite ass.

My hand must have registered with her in her sleep. She murmured and snuggled closer, her knee edging between my legs. In her sleep, she slipped her arm over my waist.

I looked down between us and admired the sweet swells of her breasts. I could see one dark areola and soft nipple and had a sudden desire to take it into my mouth, taste her, feel the texture of her areola, and experience her nipple waking up, stiffening, growing.

Rory's hair tickled my nose. It was delightfully mussed. I pressed my nose into it, inhaled, and kissed.

My bladder called. I ignored it. This was too precious. Then it hit me; I was infatuated with her. She was so lovable; a creature of so many facets, every one of them riveting.

Rory moaned quietly. I looked at her face. Her eyes were open. She was frowning. Before I said a word, she extricated herself from my arms, sat on the side of the bed, bent, retrieved her pajama top and panties, and stood. She walked out of the bedroom.

"Good morning," I said to her back.

"Morning," she mumbled.

I watched her naked ass as she left. It really was exquisite. Two firm, rounded cheeks moved sensually in counterpoint. They formed a compact pear shape, the creases where they met her thighs emphasizing their gorgeous shape. I could picture pressing my mouth to them, even giving one a hicky. I could imagine what it would feel like to press my erection into her butt crack and feel her buttocks cradling me.

My cock stirred. I rose and, with partial tumescence, hit the bathroom.

Showered and shaved, I puttered in the kitchen waiting for coffee to be brewed. The enticing scent filled the air. From the hall, I heard Rory showering, then silence.

With coffee finally ready, I poured a mug, sat at the table, and started reading the morning news on an iPad. A few sips later, Rory still hadn't emerged. Was she hiding? Embarrassed at what we'd done last night? Or embarrassed at sleeping naked in my bed?

I got up and went to find her. Her door was ajar. Poking my head in her bedroom, I noticed clothes dropped on the floor but no Rory. Then sounds from my bedroom reached me. By the time I stopped at the door, Rory was stripping my bed. Sheets were gathered in a bundle. She was removing a pillow case.

"I just changed the sheets yesterday," I informed her.

She stopped, looked at me and frowned. "I got my period last night. I bled on the sheets."

"Oh. Good."

Rory didn't look happy. She glared at me. "What's good about it? Only a guy would think getting a period is good!"

"I didn't mean it that way."

"That's what it sounded like. And I'm too hungry to be wasting time changing this bed."

I grinned at her. She glared at me.

"I said good because I thought you were angry about sleeping in bed with me. A little blood stain doesn't matter."

Watching her process that, I sipped coffee. "Leave it. I'll make the bed. Come have some breakfast."

"Fine." She tossed the pillow case on top of the sheets and followed me.

Rory was in fine form. She sat silently at the kitchen table staring outside. She didn't talk or look at me as I prepared simple fried eggs with toast on the side. It was fast and speed was of the essence.

When I set the plate down in front of her, she bent and attacked. It was interesting watching her. I knew the moment her stomach hit the critical level of fullness; two eggs and one piece of toast. One of each remained.

Her eating changed from mechanical, methodical food fed to her mouth like coal to the furnace of a train engine, to slow, each mouthful relished. Her eyes looked up. The hardness faded. Then, the corners of her mouth curled and her eyes grew bright.

She looked around, studied outside, paused to drink orange juice, and sat up straighter.

"Better?"

"Uh-huh." She nailed me with her eyes and smiled. She jabbed her fork at me. "I like sleeping in your bed."

"That's all? Just sleeping?"

Rory laughed. "And the other stuff."

"It has a name," I observed, smiling.

"I know. Other stuff." She laughed, her world restored and in balance.

An hour later I was deep at work. By late morning the blinds were closed, my office/lab pitch dark. On the bench, I peered through an electron microscope and turned a green laser on at the side, casting an oblique light onto the last will and testament of Joe Kipler.

Mr. Kipler's will, ostensibly leaving everything to his second wife thirty years his younger, was being contested by his two daughters. They believed the will was forged and their attorney had retained me to verify its legitimacy.

If the signature was forged, whoever had done it had done a masterful job. In almost every way it was perfect. This last test was something forgers rarely thought about. They concentrated on perfect visual reproduction. But, a critical part of signatures was pressure. Every individual used different pressure when signing. It changed based on hand weight, hand position, and the way a hand moved when writing.

The intense green laser light cast from the side exposed the topography of the signature and it, too, was as individualizing as the script itself. It was almost as good as a fingerprint.

I studied the signature and noted pressure points and spots where the pen had paused for a fraction of a second. Then, I replaced the will with a verified sample of his signature and studied those same spots. Confirmed. The will had been forged.

Now came the routine part; taking photographs of each under the laser light as proof, then writing up my report. I'd call the attorney later with the good news.

Analysis done, I let my mind drift as I set up the camera.

Mental arousal seeped into me again as it had on and off since last night. One image haunted me; Rory astride me, glorious in her nakedness, her body incredibly sexy, and the sight of her slowly lowering her pussy onto my erection. Moonlight had given her body shadows, contours, and shape.

My cock woke up in my pants as I pictured it. Could anything be more erotic? With her knees at my side, the beauty of her pussy had been revealed in all its youthful glory. When she settled down, the sight had been unbelievable. Her lush labia plumped out then slowly oozed apart to hug my shaft. It made her mons look even more ripe, soft, sensual, supple. Exciting heat had settled on my cock. I'd swelled and strained with excitement. Watching Rory pleasure herself on me was beautiful. When I'd felt slipperiness spread, when I'd realized it was Rory's arousal, her pussy so wet, I'd started struggling not to cum. Her sexy massage was too exciting.

But, watching Rory's beautiful climax, seeing the flash of agony on her face and her sudden gasps of pleasure, her almost desperate humping, I hadn't been able to hold back. When she collapsed on top of me, I came hard, spurting, pleasure rocking me to my core. I loved the utter pleasure of cumming between us, the hot wetness of my semen spreading on us.

It had been the most exciting sexual experience I'd had - illicit and forbidden - and, God help me, I wanted more. Rory had changed me and it was irreversible. She was the only girl I wanted. She satisfied me physically and emotionally in a way no other female had.

I knew was in real trouble. It wasn't a fun game to me any more. This morning, waking up with her in bed had confirmed it. I wanted all of her. Casual intimacy and sexy play was no longer enough. And yet, was Rory mature enough for that sort of relationship?

I was in trouble.

With photographic evidence complete, I started writing the report.

When I finished the call to the attorney and checked my watch, it was past six. I sent the report by email, printed a copy, collected all the evidence and packaged it carefully, sealing and signing my name to prevent tampering. Tomorrow, a bonded courier would pick it up.

The work was satisfying. It was my bread and butter income. I'd be paid to testify in civil court and, when a criminal fraud trial started, I'd be paid again to testify. All in all, a lucrative day.

Rory wasn't home when I left the office. I puttered around deciding what to make for dinner. Just before seven, I heard the sound of a motorbike. A minute later, Rory strolled in the front door with a paper shopping bag.

"I'm home!" she yelled.

When she entered the kitchen, I reminded her, "I've told you I don't like you riding motorbikes. Who was it?"

"Chris."

"Who the heck is Chris?"

"Susie's older brother. He offered to give me a ride home." Rory studied me, then added, "Don't worry. He's twenty-three and has a license."

She left the kitchen, asking, "What's for dinner? I'm hungry."

I was mildly angry. I'd told her time and again I don't approve. She didn't grasp the seriousness of my disapproval. There were very few things in life that scared me; poisonous spiders, fear of public speaking, and fear of car accidents.

Rory had become my responsibility as a result of a horrendous eighty-four vehicle pileup. I'd seen it on the news not knowing one of those burning cars was my brother-in-law's. Sudden fog was blamed. The police had informed me Terry's car had actually stopped behind a big rig when a semi slammed into it from behind, shoving the car under the tail of the rig, crushing my sister and him. Rory had been pulled from the back seat by a brave driver while the car was in flames.

The disaster had been caused by a nearby paper manufacturing facility pumping moisture into the air. It wasn't the first multiple pileup on that section of the Interstate, but the worst by far. A class action lawsuit, now eight years later, was still wending its way through the system. But, the visual of the horrendous scene still haunted me. It's why I had an old Volvo 240 station wagon - one of the safest cars I could find.

I'll explain it to her again tonight, I decided, although it probably wouldn't change her behavior.

Dinner was a touch strained. Rory wasn't exactly compliant and her period didn't help. However, I made my case again and hoped she'd heed me. I wasn't holding my breath.

It was later, in bed, with a gentle breeze bringing the scent of the ocean through the open bedroom window, moonlight providing surprising brightness, that I waited for Rory to join me. This morning, she'd said she wanted to sleep with me again.

When she hadn't appeared after half an hour, I sighed deeply and got out of bed, planning to placate her. She was still pissed off at me.

Her bedroom door was open. I could see her shadowed outline in the bed. Her lace curtains were closed and wafting with the breeze.

"Rory? Aren't you coming?"

Once again she surprised me, saying, "I didn't think you wanted me to sleep in your bed. I have my period."

Pondering it for a moment, I asked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't feel clean or sexy."

Moving into her room, I sat on the edge of her bed and reached out to caress her bare arm. "You're a strange creature," I observed. "There's nothing unhygienic about periods. It doesn't stop people having sex, either. Periods are natural."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"Heck no. Besides, I'm not proposing we do anything. I just want to wake up with you again."

Her response was a whispered, "Kay." She pulled back the sheet. I took her hand and led her back to my room.

In the pale moonlight, her small camisole looked white. Her plain panties matched. But, as I was getting into bed, I noticed how her feminine hygiene pad filled out her panties making her vulva look fuller, and I discovered another kink in my sexuality; it turned me on. I wondered what it would be like to touch her panties and feel that pad.

When she slipped into bed and cuddled into my side, she said, "Guys at school sorta freak out if they know we're having our period."

"Guys at school are idiots," I told her, wrapping one arm around her. She rolled into me, one knee over my leg and sighed.

I pressed my nose into her hair, filling my lungs with the clean scent of shampoo, and kissed her. "I think I'll sleep well tonight."

I didn't.

Without the lethargy from an orgasm like I had last night, I slept restlessly. I suffered more erections through the night than I had since puberty. Rory moved and I woke up to find her turned away from me. I spooned her, hugging her slim, warm body, and the press of her sexy ass into my groin brought on an erection. I woke up again to find her cuddled to my side, sound asleep with her hand on my crotch, and I got an erection. I woke up to find her sprawled on her front, her hair tickling me and I rolled towards her, resting my leg over hers, only to get another erection which pressed to her hip and cried for attention. And, when dawn broke, I woke up to find my hand caressing her incredible ass just like I'd been dreaming, fondling her sexy buttocks over her panties, my cock raging. Dark eyes flecked with gold were watching me. A slow, sexy smile played over her face, her hair mussed.

She didn't move. Still on her front, her hand fished down and felt my erection. She caressed it gently, exploring the shape.

"Do you always wake up with an erection?" she asked quietly.

A flush of affection hit me. I didn't move. I kept fondling her glorious ass. With a grin, I answered. "Not always. Usually, if I do, it's because I have to pee."

A glint appeared in her eyes. "Can I watch you pee? Can I hold it while you pee?"

When my cock strained at the thought, her smile broadened. "Does that excite you?"

It did. But, God help me, the thought of watching Rory pee sent a surge of excitement through me! Yet another quirk to my sexuality had been exposed.

Rory curled her fingers around my cock from outside my boxers and squeezed. Pleasure blossomed and with it, visions of all sorts of erotic, naughty activities that only extreme horniness could appreciate rattled through my brain.

As I was debating telling her about them, she suddenly frowned.

"Damn!" She rolled away from me. "I think I'm about to leak on the sheet again!"

Rory darted from the bedroom, leaving me horny beyond belief and unable to relieve my bladder. Not a good start to the day.

Chapter Ten

I don't care what people say. Sexual tension really is a physical presence in the air. It adds an edge to relationships that you feel. It changes the way you behave. It changes communication. Small looks are replete with unspoken words, exciting thoughts, promises. Sexual tension takes over your mind and words suddenly have a double entendre, risqué and suggestive.

It's an exciting time in any relationship - on the cusp of something wonderful. I'd experienced it before with other women. It was flirting with an edge. But with Rory, two months past her fifteenth birthday, it was an entirely different experience; more intense, thrilling.

For a week, we did no more than flirt, hug, and occasionally kiss. Yet our conversations were laced with almost lewd suggestions, never blatant, just words delivered with a look, with eyes, and with sneaky smiles. Rory flourished. She was such an enchanting mix of youth and emerging maturity. She glowed and danced on her feet, and actively dressed to tease me. She found ways to flash her panties at me and, when I'd groan quietly in agony, she'd laugh and ask, "What's wrong? Are you feeling ill?"

She seemed to love my attempts at grabbing her, laughing so damned brightly and dodging away. When I'd catch her unaware and grope her butt, she'd shriek with pretend outrage, shove my hand off her rear, and skip away exclaiming, "Ethan!" Her eyes gave away her pleasure.

But there was the other side to Rory that came out at night. She slept in bed with me every night. I slowly adjusted, my erections not as frequent, my sleep more rested. Rory was soft and sweet at night. She liked to cuddle and talk.

It might have been the darkness of night providing psychological protection, or maybe it was the simple comfort we had together, intimacy lowering inhibitions, but I felt Rory was being more honest at night.

There was no joking and ribbing - aside from gentle jabs at something dumb I'd done that day. She told me about the pressure at high school to fit in, to be fashionable, and how catty other girls could be. It astonished me how mean they were.

She talked about the pressure to have sex. Being called a virgin was a complex label. If you're pretty, you'd be labeled frigid or too scared. If you were a virgin and not pretty - a measure assigned by other girls that included looks and clothes - you were harassed with snide, spiteful words.

It shocked me that I was so clueless about this subculture.

I was also shocked at the subjects girls talked about. They openly discussed their boyfriends, talked about kissing and fondling, and even sexual intimacy. These high school girls who appeared so sweet and innocent were not. Having lived through high school, I knew guys were nowhere close to being as open. We tended to brag, inflate our achievements, and lie frequently, not denigrate each other beyond calling some guys nerds or losers, geeks, idiots, wimps.

Rory talked about how feeling pretty was intricately linked to her looks and clothes and how the opposite sex responded, how unfair it was since guys didn't have to worry about fashion and makeup.

The one saving grace was Rory, with the exception of her toes, liked her body. She liked her proportions and didn't care that her breasts were smaller than her friends.

She giggled when I concurred, informing her I liked her body, too.

"You're biased," she countered.

"No. You have an amazing body, beauty spots, wonky toes, and all."

"What beauty spots?"

"The one under your left breast and another just above your pubic hair. I haven't studied your naked ass closely enough to know if there are others."

"Maybe I'll let you find out," she said softly, playing with the sparse hair on my chest. She turned her eyes up to me. "Can we take the boat out tomorrow? Just us?"

"I'd love to. Why?"

"My period is almost over. I bought a new bikini andI want to wear it for you."

Remembering her comment about fashion, I corrected her. "You mean, wear for your own pleasure."

Rory smiled. "No. I want to wear it for you."

Tomorrow. Saturday.

We kissed and cuddled and settled for sleep. I couldn't remember feeling so happy. I adored Rory and having her in bed with me, sleeping with me, and waking up with her was such a joy. I was, I decided, blessed beyond belief.

As sleep drifted in, I wondered what my sister would think of this. Would she see Rory's happiness? Would she see mine and understand? I hoped so.

"Watch where you're going!" Rory yelled.

"What?" I yelled from the shaded cockpit.

She jabbed her finger forward. I looked and made a slight adjustment to avoid another boater we were bearing down on with astonishing speed. At three-quarters throttle, with the boat trimmed, we were skimming over the ocean, three outboard Mercurys singing with unrestrained glee.

Rory's hair flew, whipping around. She had one hand trying to hold it down, her other arm stretched out on the back of the bench up in the bow. She sat casually, not disturbed by the occasional bounce of the boat as we hit waves at the wrong angle.

She'd informed me she'd bought the bikini with me in mind. She was telepathic! On the boat, as I'd set off, she'd pulled her T-shirt up and off and removed her shorts, and that was the last thing I consciously remember about the journey so far.

Mindlessly, by experience alone, I piloted us out and headed south deeper into the Keys, planning to circle around to the Gulf side, the calmer side.

My attention was on Rory and she knew it. She had a small, pleased smile even when she wasn't looking at me. But, dear God!

This young goddess, with a flawless, evenly tanned, bronze bodyand rich dark, glossy hair, had bought the simplest bikini.

Pure white, it was strings and small pieces of cloth. Her breasts were chastely covered by triangles joined by string. Just a hint of creamy skin was exposed, that part where her breasts start to swell from her chest. Her bikini bottom was equally small, with strings tied into bows at her sides. It wasn't a micro bikini. It covered all the important bits. But, in its simplicity it was unbelievably sexy. Interesting folds formed to the delta of her pussy, reinforcing its lushness and drawing attention to her vulva coddled by pure white and filling the gap at the top of slender legs.

Rory was all skin in the bikini, wonderful, glowing skin. The shape of her body was exquisite; youthfully slim, narrow-hipped, yet full of sensual female curves. I couldn't help wondering what it would be like to make love to her, to have that body under me, feel her moving against me, those legs around me, and finding sweet heaven.

"Watch out!" she yelled again, pointing.

I pulled back the throttles as we neared a channel separating two islands and swore at myself.

Thirty-five minutes later, we were cruising around in calm, shallower water on the Gulf side. It seemed weekend boaters were out in force, some fishing, others partying. There was no secluded spot. Resigning myself to no skinny dipping, I found a spot and anchored.

The silence was broken by laughter and music floating across the water from fellow boaters and an occasional motor passing. Heat beat down despite it being before ten in the morning.

This time, I dropped a towel on the vinyl bench before sitting next to Rory.

She smiled at me. "That was an interesting ride. I've never seen you come so close to an accident."

"Your bikini's fault," I observed.

Rory grinned. "You like it?"

I nodded, smiling. "I think women are far sexier in lingerie or bikinis than when they're bare-assed naked. Certainly more erotic."

Rory contemplated me for a moment. She smiled. "So, I'm a woman?"

I nodded. "You have all the requisite parts."

She laughed and glanced around at the other boats, all a fair distance from us. "It's not very private here. Well, no matter. We can still have fun. Want to swim?"

She didn't wait for an answer. Standing on the bench, she dove overboard in a graceful dive. I tugged my T-shirt off and followed her in.

We swam, played, dunked each other, and laughed. Eventually, tired, we came together, Rory smiling with mischief. I checked the other boats. We were still very visible.

She moved into me and grabbed my wrist, her eyes twinkling tarnished gold flecks. "This way," she instructed, tugging me.

We drifted eight feet to the side of the boat. She held onto it for support and said, "Good. Now kiss me. You haven't kissed me today."

I did. Yet again, I was transported by a simple kiss, so illicit and exciting, Rory's lips so soft and warm. Her eyes twinkled and closed. Then she murmured pleasure and my body responded, arousal stealing in. It surged when Rory's hand brushed the front of my swimming suit. With a gasp, I ended the kiss and backed away.

Rory smiled slyly. "What's the matter?"

Shaking my head, I muttered, "I swear, Rory. You're . . ."

"I'm what? And you never swear," she observed.

"We're in the open. Someone could see us."

"Uh-huh. It's exciting, isn't it?"

"No . . . Actually, yes. But I value my freedom."

She floated close again, her fingers playing with the waist of my bathing suit. "No one can see under the water." Her hand brushed lower, teasing my partial erection. Pure impishness danced in her beautiful eyes. She smiled. "You can touch me, too."

Rory fondled me into a full, aching erection. Then, when she eased her hand inside my suit, reached down, and gripped my cock, horniness took control. I couldn't stop myself from reaching down and cupping her pussy. Rory smiled and parted her legs, giving my erection a squeeze.

Without sight, the shape of her pussy seemed ever more lush, a soft, sensual pad narrowing to her full vulva. It struck me this was the first time I was touching her pussy even if it was over her bikini, and that realization almost took me over the edge and into rashness. Fondling a fifteen-year-old's crotch was far, far more erotic than a mature woman. It was so forbidden it had my blood racing.

At the sound of a boat nearing at full bore, I removed my hand. Rory jerked her hand out of my suit, and we watched a retired couple pass. They waved at us. We waved back. I think I might have blushed! My face felt abnormally warm.

Rory hauled herself up and over the side into the boat. I didn't. I waited, hoping my erection would flag. It didn't. Once again, I found myself knocking my forehead against fiberglass in the hope sanity would be restored. It wasn't.

Rory peeked over, grinned, and asked, "What's the matter?"

If I thought being in the boat was safe territory, I was sorely mistaken. Rory was sitting on the bench, leaning back, and still smiling at me when I slumped onto the deck. I got up and sat across from her. Distance was my defense. It didn't help. I was too turned on, too horny, too attracted to her.

Rory glanced at the obvious lump of my erection, looked around at other boaters, and when she turned back to me, her eyes darkened, full of exciting, dangerous mischief. It made my pulse jump.

She dropped her hand to her thigh and caressed suggestively. Her hand moved to the inside. She edged her knees apart and, in slow motion, lightly rubbed her pussy. It was a casual, intimate touch and, because of it, almost lewd and intensely erotic. However, it was her staring at the obvious outline of my erection that took her action to a whole new level.

What was she planning?

I quickly looked around, checked other boats, and assessed lines of sight. They couldn't see her, the gunwale and seat back too high. Returning my attention to Rory, she smiled at me, her dark eyes sparkling with naughty excitement.

No words were spoken but communication was loud. She noticed my erection bobbing, now very hard. Still smiling slightly, she drew her hand up and teased the waist of her bikini with her fingertips. My heart tripped. Staring at her fingers, I mentally begged her to continue. As if hearing me, Rory's fingertips slipped under the waist and stopped.

I was now breathing faster. The sun was hotter. When she didn't move, I glanced at her face.

Rory was smiling at me like a Cheshire cat. "I will if you will," she dared me.

Extreme horniness is a dangerous condition. Caution is thrown to the wind in the face of selfish desire. I could feel it in me; that urge to do anything, everything, just so Rory would continue. With another check of nearby boaters, I eased my hand inside my suit and gripped my erection. Man I was hard! And this was insanity!

"Your turn," I said rather huskily.

Rory slipped her hand inside. I saw the outline as she cupped her pussy, the bikini stretched, knees parted. I so wanted it to be my hand fondling her.

"I want to watch you," she said in a quiet voice.

Dear God! And I wanted to watch her!

"Maybe, if I watch you, I'll be able to climax," she added. Her bikini moved, one finger obviously stroking her cleft.

I started sweating. My cock was pulsing, so friggin' hard.

Rory eased her hand out of her bikini. Regret flooded me until, with her fingertips, she took the little bow at her hip and tugged. It unraveled. I held my breath. My pulse spiked. The front fell loose and the edge of her dark pubes peeked at me. Jeeesus!

"Your turn," she suggested.

Once again, I looked at other boaters and assessed lines of sight. It was iffy. I moved and sat on the deck, checking. They couldn't see the bench seat. Satisfied yet incredibly nervous, I retook my seat. Driven by extreme horniness, I threw caution to the wind. Risk of being seen only heightened my excitement. Rory watched intently when I lifted my ass. With a deep breath, I eased the swimming suit down to my knees, my cock slapping up against my stomach, exposed to the sun. Was I crazy?

Rory eyes grew intense, gold flecks glittering. She pulled the open side of her bikini across and exposed her pussy to me.

My heart stopped. I couldn't remember being this excited. In the brightness of the sun, with her sitting, knees apart, and the risk of being seen, the full glory of her pussy was revealed in every detail. Her small, jet black pubic bush, still not full, tapered down, her cleft dusted with sparser, fine pubes that emphasized the roundness of her labia. And half way down the tip of her clit peeked out, cradled by her cleft.

Sun glinted off a trace of moisture at the base of her slit. A slight indentation, almost a parting of her cleft, hinted at location of her entrance. Her buttocks swelled where they pressed to the vinyl bench.

There was no shred of common sense left in me. I reached down and held my cock. Rory's eyes became intense. Locked on my erection. She touched herself, her middle finger starting at the base and drawing it up, curling it. Her soft, full labia bulged sensuously, hugging her fingertip. Then she touched her clit and I saw a tremor in her body.

The second time I stroked myself, a drop of precum oozed out, glistening in the sun. Rory inhaled loud enough for me to hear. Her finger teased her clit, caressing in a circle. I stroked my cock again spreading slippery precum, warm pleasure hitting me.

This was utter insanity!

For the next few, incredible minutes, we watched each other masturbate. I'd never seen something so erotic; a young girl openly playing with herself. Rory looked so serious as she stared at my cock. Her nostrils flared with each breath, and she diddled her clit faster. She bit the side of her lower lip, catching it with her canine, concentrating on me. I stroked my aching erection. I could tell I wasn't far from cumming, my excitement too high. I still couldn't believe I was doing this or how damned horny it was making me!

Rory's thighs started tensing and relaxing. She shifted her butt, undulating slightly. More moisture leaked and spread down between her buttocks. I stroked myself faster and wondered of she'd be able to climax on her own. And then I made a mistake. I pictured myself cumming on her sexy pussy, spurting thick semen onto her dark pubes and seeing her rub my cum into her cleft.

Before I could inhale, my climax slammed into me. A bead of semen leaked followed by huge wave of bliss. I grunted. My cock swelled, and cum exploded into the air in a long rope. Pleasure crashed into me and I came in shorter, rapid fire spurts, each bringing bliss, sweet relief, my heart pounding.

Suddenly, Rory tensed. Her knees snapped together and she was cumming. She snorted. A small mewl of pleasure escaped and, as I swelled and spurted in a wonderful orgasm, Rory, eyes locked on my spurting cock, panted, her finger scrubbing her clit. Slowly, with a frown of almost pain, her body stiffened, strained, and, with a little shudder, she went limp, her legs relaxing, her eyes closing. Perspiration glittered on her forehead.

My orgasm passed. Semen covered my hand and shaft. My erection softened. Into the calm, satisfying emptiness from a good orgasm, embarrassment rushed in.

I couldn't believe what I'd just done! I'd jerked off in front of her! I'd never done it before, not with any woman.

Rory stirred. She opened her eyes and gave me a dazzling smile. She retied the bikini at her hip, stood, and came over to me, sitting on my messy lap.

She hugged me and whispered, "Thank you! Like, thank you! That was incredible! I got myself off!"

"Um. Yeah," I mumbled, still not sure how I felt.

She rested her cheek on my shoulder. "It was watching you cum that did it. Gawd, Ethan. I've never seen anything so exciting!"

She sighed with pleasure and commented, "Next time, I want to stroke you off and feel you cum." She brought her head up from my shoulder and grinned. "And you can jill me off at the same time. Wanna?"

I laughed. Regret and embarrassment were shoved aside by adoration. Grabbing her, I stood and heaved her overboard. She screamed and flailed - very unladylike. Tugging my suit up, I dove in after her.

Rory spluttered to the surface, laughing. She splashed water at me. "You . . . You . . ."

I grinned and splashed water back at her. A war ensued.

Half an hour later, we were sun-drying and eating lunch. I had a fishing rod out and watched the line for any nibble. My body was drained and tired. I was drowsy, too.

Rory, after swallowing a bite of her tuna salad sandwich, observed, "Do you know, in all the time I've seen you fish - which is almost every time we're on the boat - you've never caught anything."

I smiled. "I'm an eternal optimist."

"Or not. What's that saying? Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. You're insane."

"Einstein. And he didn't fish, so what did he know? One of these days I'm going to land the big one."

"Maybe you're using the wrong bait. What are you using?"

"White bread." Fishing wasn't my strength.

Rory laughed in derision. I grinned. She had a great laugh, honest and unrestrained.

"Have you considered using pastrami or, maybe . . . a worm?" she asked, rising, brushing crumbs off her lap. She put her garbage away, laid her towel out, and stretched out on her back to sunbathe. "Wake me up when you land that big one. I'll take a picture."

I didn't know if she was asleep. I liked the gentle rocking of the boat, the sounds of other boaters having fun, and the view. Particularly the view.

Rory's body changed when on her back. Her compact bottom swelled rather nicely where it pressed to the deck. Her breasts looked smaller, still remarkably firm as only youth can. However, I really enjoyed the sight of her body, the way her stomach dipped from her rib cage, very flat, with her narrow hip bones rising like twin peaks at either side. That white bikini became a suspension bridge touching down in the middle, alluring gaps where it hovered supported by strings. Shadows teased and I wondered if I could glimpse her pubes.

Bending over, I looked down her body and, yup, the edge of her bush was just visible. The illicit peek was very exciting. I loved how straight her pubic hair was - slightly wavy, not curled like most women - and I wanted to comb my fingers through it.

"What 'cha doing?"

Guiltily, I straightened. "Nothing."

"Were you trying to see down my bikini?"

I grinned and nodded.

"So, just ask." She reached down and lifted the waist, giving me an eyeful of a pouty mons topped by her glossy pubes. "Magnificent," I informed her.

She laughed and let her bikini go.

I marveled at this casual intimacy between us. Not two weeks ago, everything had been different. Now, everything was better. I felt like a teenager again with a crush on a girl; that feeling of nervousness blended with excitement and anticipation, butterflies in my stomach.

By late afternoon, we returned home, sunburned, tired, and judging by Rory, hungry for dinner. She reluctantly picked up the garbage leaving me to rinse off the boat

When I groped her sweet ass as she climbed out, she brushed my hand away, saying, "Not now. I need something to eat."

I took my time with the boat, hoping she'd eat a snack before I finished.

Chapter Eleven

The news played quietly on the television. I listened to another incomprehensible statement issued by the Oval Office and wondered how people couldn't see how the current occupant of said office appeared to be out of his depth. Being a CEO didn't automatically qualify someone to be a brain surgeon, or a President.

For the first time, I wished I was a Canadian. Justin Trudeau was so much better.

At my side, Rory leaned against me, her head in the crook of my shoulder. She was sound asleep. Her stomach full, an eventful day, and she was gone to the world. Crickets' nightly song reached me through open windows. A cooler ocean breeze was lowering the temperature, helped by the ceiling fan rotating silently above.

I nursed a beer. I liked beer but alcohol didn't like me - something in the way I metabolized it. First my tongue would go, then my morals. Four beers and I was as dumb as a stump, and equally articulate. It meant my consumption of beer was limited to one or two, so I cherished them. I traveled the world through beer. Tonight, I was visiting Japan with an Asahi Super Dry lager.

"Ethan, can I ask you something?"

"You're awake." I smiled. "Sure. Go ahead."

She waited a beat and studied her fingernails, not looking at me. I hugged her shoulder tighter.

"I don't swear much but, when I'm climaxing, is it all right to use crude language?"

I pondered it for a while, then answered her. "Sure. There's nothing wrong with dirty or crude language when it's between lovers. Often, it can make things even more exciting."

"You never use dirty language. You never actually swear. How come?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. If I had to guess, it's probably because I never see a need for it."

"But, don't you want to when you're angry?"

"Frequently. I just don't."

"So, when being intimate, it's okay?"

"Absolutely," I assured her, wondering where this was coming from.

Rory continued, "Good, because when I had that climax on the boat what I really wanted to say was, 'Oh fuuuuck!'"

The emotion she put into it had me laughing. She turned her face up to me and grinned, her eyes sparking.

When I stopped laughing, I told her, "That turns me on, so yup, go to town!"

Rory's grin faded. Her eyes softened. "I want you to be my first. I've been thinking about it a lot."

Tamping down the sudden rush of desire, I rubbed her arm. "I'd love to. However, there are so many things we can do before taking it that far."

"We can do those things after. I'm tired of being a virgin, especially now I can get climaxes."

Chuckling, I countered, "Being a virgin isn't a disability, Rory. It's not something you get tired of."

"How would you know? You're not a virgin. You don't constantly wonder about it, or worry about it. You've experienced sex. All I've done is fret about when and who, and will the guy use me and tell his friends after, and what if he's useless and I don't like sex and that's it, I'm damaged for life. Besides, you've shown me how good it feels. I trust you."

I sat silently, pondering her comments. Was she really wrong? Did girls regard their virginity as a millstone? A weight around their shoulders? Wasn't it supposed to be treasured and shared with someone you love?

That thought brought on another. How many girls remained in a relationship with the boy they'd lost their virginity to? Actually, why was virginity considered more precious than a healthy, active sex life? Shouldn't a girl's first time be one that makes her want more, not some sordid, unsatisfactory act that she'd look back on with shame? Of course it should. But when? Fifteen was very young.

"You're too quiet," Rory said.

"You're a bit young . . ."

"I'm . . ." Rory cut in to object.

"Let me finish," I said, interrupting her. "It's your body. It's your choice, no one else's. Would I like to make love with you? Absolutely. There's nothing I want more. I get jealous thinking about you being with some other guy. Really jealous."

I continued, "I think you're emotionally mature enough to make the decision, too."

When I stopped, Rory studied me, then said, "But?"

I smiled. "No buts."

Rory smiled broadly. She relaxed against me and sighed. "Good."

The prospect of sex with Rory, now it was in the open, was so delicious my body responded; penis thick, not rigid, the state that feels so good. Gentle throbs kept my pulse racing. Desire blossomed and I had to stop myself from imagining it. What would it be like to make love to a virgin? I never had. How painful would it be for her? How could I make it less painful?

"Not tonight," Rory said.

"Huh?"

"I don't want to do it tonight. I'm tired." A moment later, she added, "I want to be seduced. I want to flirt and tease you. Your eyes get so sexy when you're horny and that turns me on."

"Okay. Not tonight," I agreed with a chuckle.

When the news ended, Rory extricated herself from my arm and stood. "I'm going to bed. Are you coming?"

"As soon as I straighten up."

By the time I slipped into bed, Rory was still missing. About to go check on her, she appeared. Dressed for bed in a ribbed white cotton camisole and matching bikini panties, she looked sweetly sexy. I turned the bedside lamp off as she climbed in.

The bedroom fell into darkness brightened by moonlight.

Rory's eyes glittered. She moved towards me. I rolled to face her and drew her into my arms. She smelled fresh and clean; toothpaste and soap. She was so slender and sweet in my arms. She smiled and I kissed her smile. Lips pressed. Her eyes closed. Her arm hugged me and she pressed herself against me.

Closing my eyes, I tasted her lips and Rory murmured, pressed her mouth against mine even harder, then the tip of her tongue brushed my lips.

When my hand dropped down to fondle her ass, the kiss transformed into a passionate kiss very quickly. Our tongues touched, flirted, then caressed, Rory's mouth opening to me. Below, an erection formed. Kissing Rory was so erotic it was slightly disorienting.

The kiss ended with me sucking her lower lip. When I opened my eyes, Rory was staring at me. Her brows knit in a frown. "Damn."

"What's wrong?"

"I was tired. Now I'm horny. Stop playing with my ass!"

"Why? It's magnificent," I confessed, still caressing it.

"I like kissing you like that. French kisses. The best. I can't believe how much it turns me on." Her frown faded. "It's a weapon! It's dangerous. Kiss me again."

I chuckled and kissed her again, and the effect was the same; swirling, desire, arousal. Rory's tongue caressed mine, retreated when I explored her mouth, then followed mine into my mouth. She rubbed her stomach against my erection and, still kissing, I slipped my hand from her ass, eased it between us, and cupped her pussy. Rory hooked her knee over my thigh and I fondled her, exploring the shape of her mons, a sexy delta narrowing to her plump vulva. When I traced her cleft over her panties, Rory moaned into the kiss.

Excitement mounting, I moved my hand up and eased the fingertips inside her panties. With a thudding heart, I explored. First, I touched the swell of her mons, then her silky soft pubes and, with a mental moan of pleausre, I cupped her pussy - soft and sensual, my middle finger resting along her cleft, and discovered a trace of exciting moisture.

Finally, I was touching her! Excitement thundered in.

Curling my finger, her labia yielded. More moisture, warmth. And deeper, I touched her hymen protecting her virginity.

Rory broke the kiss. She reached down and stopped me. She looked at me, her eyes heated, serious, and said quietly, "I want the first time to be you, not your finger."

"Okay."

She released my hand, smiled, and pulled me into another kiss, her mouth opening, tongue active.

Her pubes brushed my palm with a silky caress. I followed her cleft to her clit.

Rory twitched lightly when I started caressing her. She gradually undulated with my caress, her pelvis moving. Breath panted through her nose. Being very careful, I gathered her slippery arousal from below and drew it up, rubbing her clit harder, faster, and Rory broke the kiss with an almost silent groan of pleasure. She buried her face in my neck and undulated her hips, humping my stroking finger.

"This feels so good," she murmured.

Her breath shortened into pants, hot against me. It thrilled me. She was so responsive, so demonstrative of her arousal. Rubbing her clit faster, Rory started trembling, quiet "Mmmm" sounds breaking the silence. Her body was hot to the touch.

"God, I'm so horny," she whispered. "I think I'm gonna cum."

Lord it was exciting!

Then she quietly whimpered and climaxed, her body trembling. With small gasps for air, her body tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed, curling her pussy against my finger. She moaned quietly and, with a final shiver, she relaxed again, limp, light tremors shaking her.

Removing my hand, I hugged her tightly. For minutes neither of us moved. My erection was straining and pressed to her stomach. I loved her orgasms.

Her breathing calmed. She sighed. "That was wonderful," she murmured. "I'm so tired."

Smiling, I said, "Roll over."

When she did, I cuddled up from behind, hugging her. My erection nestled between her buttocks. I inhaled the scent of her, now with an enticing aroma.

She squeezed her butt on my erection and whispered, "I'm sorry. I forgot about you."

"Shhh. I'm fine."

"Kay."

As she drifted off, I brought my finger to my nose and inhaled the scent of her. It was surprisingly light with an trace of earthiness - pure ambrosia. I tasted her and my erection surged; clean, pure sex.

Much later, I got up and dealt with my persistent horniness in the bathroom.

Chapter Twelve

Rory was still asleep when I eased out of bed in the morning. She was gone to the world, her hair a mess, and sprawled on her front. Two climaxes yesterday had taken it out of her, I thought with a smile.

Before leaving the bedroom, I paused and admired the sight of her in my bed. I loved it. I was so lucky. It did something to me; an ache in my chest.

An hour later I'd finished reading the news, consumed two coffees and eaten breakfast. Still no sign of her. I went to check.

At the bedroom door, yet again I paused to admire her. She'd drawn one knee up. Still on her front, her head was pushed partially under the pillow, dark hair messy. The sheet covered her to her waist. From the side, I could see where her petite breast in her ribbed cotton top was pressed to the bed giving it a sensual swell.

The flush of love that hit me caught me by surprise. It wasn't arousal, it was pure, utter adoration. Jesus! She was gorgeous, special, one of a kind. Moving to the bed, I leaned over and gently kissed her cheek.

Rory grumbled, making me smile broadly.

"Morning."

"What time is it?" she asked without moving.

"Eight-thirty."

She groaned, "I've gotta pee," not moving or opening her eyes.

With a hand on her back, I smiled and shook her. "Should I plan on changing the sheets or will you go to the bathroom to pee?"

"Go away."

"I'm making you an omelet. Don't take too long."

She groaned again as I left.

I timed the cheddar and ham omelet, served with toast, perfectly. When Rory entered the kitchen and plunked herself down at the table, I slid a plate in front of her, placed a glass of orange juice down, and sat with another coffee.

She ate with determination. I watched the magical transformation happen. One third into her omelet, her pace slowed, she paused to drink the juice, and finally glanced up at me. Another third eaten and a small smile played at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes came alive. After swallowing the last bite, she dropped her fork, leaned back, and sighed; her world back in balance.

"What're the plans for today?" she asked.

"Grocery shopping and chores this morning."

"Wow! Talk about an exciting day!" she exclaimed, smiling at me. "Be still my heart! Let's take the boat out and water-ski today."

I was insistent. "Grocery shopping and chores."

"Oh well. It's okay. Susie asked me to meet her at Starbucks and shop for clothes."

I suppressed a smile. "When did she ask you?"

Rory grinned. "She's about to!" she said, picking up her cell phone.

I let her go with a stern warning; no motorcycle rides. While disappointed at not having her company, it was her summer holiday. I happily set about mowing the lawn, making sure the mowed lines were linear perfection. Cleaning and bringing order to the house was enjoyable. As I straightened, I wondered, was I anally retentive about these things?

Grocery shopping on a weekend, when I could take my time, was a real joy. I loved food. I liked to experiment. And I loved to cook. The local supermarket provided a wonderful selection of fresh fruits and vegetables. A butcher in town - a rare sight - had incredible cuts of meat. I chose thick Angus steaks aged twenty-eight days, some handmade pork, herb, and fennel sausages, and thick, pale veal chops. Larry, the proprietor of the fishmongers, steered me towards fresh lobster, grouper, and tuna steaks.

My stomach was grumbling by the time I returned home at just after six.

Rory was lounging on the sofa when I arrived. She didn't offer to help unpack, her Smartphone more important.

When I'd finished putting the groceries away, I said, "Thanks for the help."

"You're welcome," she answered, making me smile. Her phone rang.

As she chatted, I set about making dinner. Tonight I wanted steaks, baked potatoes, and roasted broccoli.

From the sofa, fragments of Rory's conversation reached me: "Can you believe it?" and "What an idiot!" and "I know! Crazy, huh?"

With potatoes in the oven, the outside barbecue cleaned and ready for steaks, the broccoli tossed in garlic oil, salt and pepper, ready for the oven, and feeling proud of my achievements today, I visited with Trudeau, opening a Canadian Steam Whistle lager, and sipped.

Rory ended her phone call, stood up, and asked, "What d'ya think?"

She turned slowly, arms outstretched. What was I looking at? Her long, long bare legs? Her extraordinarily short, distressed jean shorts that showed the bottom of her bare buttocks? The green and white wide-necked top that fell off one shoulder? Or, did she have her dark hair done?

I chose safe, diplomatic territory. "It looks great." A perfect cover-anything response.

Rory laughed brightly. "You have no clue, do you? I bought these jean shorts today."

"At the used clothing store?" I asked.

Rory laughed. "No! Brand new. Never worn. Like them?"

"Turn around."

She turned. I admired the bottom of her bare buttocks, the way denim shaped her exquisite compact ass, and the way the denim pressed tightly into her butt crack. Very, very sexy. "I like them."

"I knew you would. The only problem is you have to wear cheeky panties with them. Regular panties will show."

I took a long drink of beer.

Rory, strolled over and casually dropped a bomb. "Susie and I were arrested today."

Beer spurted from my mouth.

"Don't worry," she immediately responded. "The police aren't pressing charges." She opened the refrigerator and grabbed a Coke.

When I'd wiped my mouth and chin, I asked, "What the heck happened? What did you two do?"

Rory, after sipping from the can and sitting at the kitchen table, shrugged. "We assaulted a guy. He deserved it."

Moving very carefully, I settled at the table. "I think you'd better tell me everything, Rory." This was definitely a first, and not a pleasant one at that.

Rory frowned. "It was his fault. He pinched Susie's ass in the mall so we attacked him. Boy, is his face scratched up! Blood, too!"

About to castigate her, she continued nonchalantly, "He wanted to press charges until we threatened to do the same for sexual assault. Susie showed the police the welt on her ass. That dickwad changed his mind real quick."

I took a few deep breaths. "Since when is physically attacking anyone okay?"

Rory shot back, "Since when is sexual assault okay?"

Good point. "Were you hurt in the fracas?"

She shrugged. "Not much. I think I have a bruise on my left boob where he hit me. That's all." Her eyes changed, contemplating me like cornered prey. "Wanna see?"

In the blink of an eye, concern evaporated, excitement hit, and thrill pulsed through me.

Rory's eyes glinted with mischief. "Maybe you could kiss it all better?"

Lord help me!

"I'm not wearing a bra."

My penis woke up; blood flowed south quickly. I saw how her small breasts shaped her top, suggestive, teasing. No bra. Amazing! Desire hit.

A few deep, calming breaths and I said, "Dinner's in progress. Aren't you hungry?"

Rory stood, moved to my side and sat sideways in my lap. The flecks of tarnished gold in her dark eyes seemed to freeze me in place. She took my hand and brought it to her breast.

"This one," she said softly.

When I cupped her perfect breast over her top, a silent groan echoed loudly in my head. Less than a handful, it was so damned firm, so damned sexy.

Befuddled by desire and the way she was looking at me, I moved my hand down to her waist and tugged her top from her shorts. A hint of a smile emerged on her face. She didn't stop me, simply staring into my eyes.

My pulse jumped when I touched her skin, warm, alive. My heart thumped loudly as I brought my hand up inside her top, moving it slowly, anticipation building. How could she affect me so much?

The edge of my hand touched the underside of her breast. Very, very slowly, I brought my hand up and cupped the underside, so perfectly formed, warm, sexy, with a little weight to it. I rubbed the pad of my thumb over her nipple and Rory inhaled.

Her eyes were intense, heated. Her lips looked lush. Playfulness and flirting evaporated. Her voice was slightly husky when she said, "You haven't kissed it better." She rucked up the bottom of her cotton top, exposing my hand on her breast.

I removed my hand and studied adolescent magnificence; perfectly firm without sag, dark areola, a small but hard nipple, flawless un-tanned skin, and the single dark beauty spot below the underside swell.

Under her butt, my cock grew even more.

"I don't see a bruise," I told her in a quiet voice.

"Right here," she said, pointing to the outside of her petite boob. I kissed the spot, her skin silken and warm and exciting.

A glint emerged in her eyes. "And here," she said, pointing to the top of her breast.

I kissed it.

In a quieter tone, she said, "And here," pointing to her areola.

I kissed her tip, closed my eyes, opened my mouth and sucked her areola lightly.

Rory held the back of my head, pressing my mouth against her breast and sighed.

I teased her nipple with my tongue and sucked harder. My other hand caressed her bare thigh, edging higher until I was rubbing her pussy through her denim shorts. Horniness built, yearning mixed with excitement.

When I stopped sucking her breast, her areola had flushed darker, her small nipple engorged and firm. Rory's eyes were burning.

With an arm around her back and one under her knees, I stood, lifting her easily.

"Where are we going?"

I carried her into the hall, then into the bedroom, placing her on the bed. She shuffled up and lay down. I knelt astride her legs, smiled, and brushed her cotton top up, exposing her breasts; twin peaks, gorgeous.

Leaning over, I kissed each lightly.

Rory watched, a small smile on her lips. "What about dinner?"

"It can wait. I can't."

She laughed quietly.

Reaching for her shorts, I unbuttoned them, drew the zipper down, and opened the front exposing the waist of her pale burgundy panties. Taking the waist, I tugged the shorts down.

Rory smiled and lifted her butt. I pulled the shorts off leaving her in her panties. Heart racing, cock straining inside jeans, I grabbed her panties and slowly pulled them down.

The swell of her mons emerged, followed by the top of her pubes; jet black, wavy, as soft as silk. As I eased her panties down, her small bush was revealed in all its glory; sexy, so fresh. God I loved it!

My cock reacted, straining for release.

I tossed her panties to the floor, leaned over and, with a racing pulse, kissed her stomach, then her right hip, then her left. The scent of her arousal hit me when I kissed her pubes; a hint of sex, powerful, dizzying.

Rory's pubic hair was pure silk, tickling my lips. I was no longer thinking. I had a goddess in front of me and an aching desire to taste her. Nothing else mattered.

Shuffling down, I spread her legs, my eyes locked on her pussy. The tip of her clit peeked out, cradled by plump labia. Below, her buttocks swelled where they pressed to the bed.

I moved between her legs. Glancing at her face, Rory's eyes were intense. She still had a small smile curling the corners of her mouth. She did nothing, letting me study her naked body, and God was it spectacular!

I needed to taste her. It was the only thought in my mind. Lying between her legs, her mons rose in a magnificent hill, soft and sexy. I inhaled, trembling at her scent, then kissed her cleft right on her clit.

I was selfish. Her pleasure didn't cross my mind. Only my pleasure. Only me kissing Rory's young pussy, the excitement of it. I tasted her, touching her soft clit with the tip of my tongue tasting her; surprisingly clean, almost sweet with a hint of a tang.

I heard my moan, and pressed my mouth on her soft pussy, probing into her cleft, selfish, my tongue found glassy smooth skin inside, hot and slippery. Exploring lower, I found nirvana. Rory was wet. My cock surged, dangerous arousal storming me.

Returning to her clit, I forced my hands under her buttocks to hold them and sucked her.

Rory reacted. Her body twitched. She sighed quietly when I caressed her clit, her hands reaching down to hold my head. Unconsciously, I started humping the bed, rubbing my erection against the mattress. Rory moaned again. Her hips curled. I sucked her clit harder and squeezed her buttocks.

She started undulating her pussy against my mouth. As I ate her, lost in the experience, I recognized the signs of her body; firmer movements, pelvis undulating rhythmically, her thighs twitching every so often. I could hear her, her breath panting, occasional sighs, quiet moans. Her hands closed into fists holding my hair and she humped my mouth faster, urgent. Her groan of pleasure sounded loud.

I tongued her clit faster, then sucked it hard, hard, and Rory inhaled sharply. She held her breath, body freezing. Breath exploded. She gasped, "Fuuuuck," and climaxed spectacularly.

Her whole body jerked. Another wave hit her and her body tried to curl up, her stomach straining. She held her breath, then grunted loudly. Her body shook as she climaxed and the sweet music of her cries of pleasure sounded. Rory came hard, waves passing through her. It built to a straining peak, then she collapsed, limp, panting. She let out a final deep, deep groan.

When I moved to her side, her eyes were closed, her nostrils flaring with each breath. Perspiration dampened her hairline.

"God Almighty that was good!" she said. "I loooove sex."

I had to smile. I could still taste her - utter ambrosia. My cock ached, constrained by jeans and, while I wanted to pull it out and find release, I settled with studying her.

Her beautiful face was relaxed, nostrils flaring with soft breaths. Her cheeks were flushed. She did nothing to cover herself.

I looked at her slender beauty and knew I now wanted her desperately. I wanted to make love with her more than any woman I'd known. It was a yearning ache inside me. What would it feel like to be buried inside her sexy body? How tight would she be? A virgin. Exciting.

Before I completely lost control, I leaned over and kissed her. "Bet you're hungry now. Get dressed. I'll start the steaks."

Rory groaned. She didn't open her eyes or move. She looked like a fine art painting; mostly naked, with only her top rucked up to her armpits, sprawling on the bed, her hair a mess, body languid and relaxed. I thought she was the sexiest female I'd ever laid eyes on.

She joined me on the patio as I placed thick steaks on the grill, smoke billowing, the scent of searing beef making my mouth water. Her arms circled my waist from behind, her cheek on my back. She gave me a tight squeeze.

Over dinner, Rory was softer. She smiled lightly, her exotic eyes bright. It was in her body language and the odd sigh she let out. She looked relaxed, making me smile. She had a glow about her and she hadn't brushed her hair. It was slightly scraggly, layered to below her shoulders.

"How's the food?" I asked.

"Good."

"How are you feeling?"

Rory smiled. "Relaxed and really tired. I could go to sleep now."

I checked my watch; eight-fifteen. "Try to last another hour. Were you really arrested or were you kidding me?"

"Officer Kendrick drove me home."

I grunted, not sure how to handle it. I'd give it some thought.

Rory didn't last. Sitting on the sofa and watching TV, she leaned against my shoulder then slowly slipped down, her head finding my lap. I caressed her hair and she was gone.

When I finally turned the television off and shook her awake, she grumbled and wandered sleepily into the hall.

Fifteen minutes later, I was in bed, waiting. She arrived, wearing a short, pale pink cotton nightshirt that fell to mid thigh. Her hair was pulled back. She looked clean and sweet and very young.

Unusually, Rory came to my side of the bed, grabbed my hand and tugged. "Come with me."

"Where?" I asked rolling out of bed.

"My room. Tonight you sleep with me."

As she led me, I asked, "What's wrong with my bed?"

She responded with, "What's wrong with mine?"

I smiled. This was another new experience. It was different for some reason. Me sleeping in Rory's bed felt more illicit, exciting, despite her having the same bed as I did.

It was a special thrill walking into her room. It was messy - clothes on the floor, personal items spread on her dresser. Her room smelled like a girl's room with a hint of perfume in the air. Stuffed animals from her childhood were propped up on her side table and on her bed. Her sheets were pale pink, matching her nightshirt.

She led me to the bed and, as I climbed in, I smelled her on the sheets and pillow. This was so different, so pleasing.

Rory rolled into my side, nestled her head into the crook of my shoulder, hooked her knee over my leg, and sighed. She rubbed the sparse hair on my chest.

"This is nice," she murmured.

I was sure I was the first guy in her bed and that pleased me, too. Despite wanting to stay awake and enjoy the experience, after kissing her hair, I fell asleep and slept like a baby.

Chapter Thirteen

Consciousness arrived slowly. First, I smelled her, then I felt her. I was spooning her. She was curled up, asleep. Dawn was just breaking. The sound of light rain came in through her open windows.

It was Monday and I didn't want to get out of bed. I didn't want to work. I wanted to cuddle with her all day and hide from the rain.

Something felt different. I pondered it. It hit me. I didn't have an erection. I wasn't horny. Pure affection suffused me and it felt wonderful.

For the next half hour, I didn't move. One arm resting over the dip of her waist, my body cuddled to her back, my legs curled up against hers, I listened to the sound of the rain and her quiet breathing. She was warm and smelled like no other female I'd known; a scent that drilled to my core, addictive and beautiful.

The ache in my body was a physical manifestation of love. I adored her so much it hurt.

With great care, I moved my arm and edged my hand up until I held her petite breast. Rory reacted, placing her hand on the back of mine and pressing it to her breast. At first, I thought she'd done it in her sleep, but no. She let out a quiet purr of pleasure and wiggled back against me, pressing herself to me tightly.

For just a moment, I thought she'd woken up in a good mood. Then she muttered, "Damn. I have to pee."

I smiled and kissed her head, giving her boob a soft caress.

"Stop groping me," she muttered with no force, holding my hand in place.

"Good morning."

"What's good about it? It's raining. I hate rain. What day is it?"

"Monday."

"I hate Mondays."

Smiling with amusement, I caressed her sexy boob again; so firm and arousing. Blood flowed. My penis stirred. I remembered sucking her breast, the feel of her in my mouth, the texture of her areola. Pressed against her ass, my cock thickened.

With a groan, Rory removed my hand and rolled out of bed. She headed to the hall bathroom. I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes, mildly aroused and enjoying being in her bed. The toilet flushed. Water splashed into a sink. Silence. Rory didn't return.

I tried to talk myself into moving, into getting up, dressing and making breakfast, and failed. It was too nice being in her bed. Instead, I kept my eyes closed and thought about going back to sleep. Why not be lazy today? Everyone deserves a mental health day away from work.

The bed dipped. I opened one eye to see Rory hugging a large kitchen mixing bowl, a spoon in one hand. She ladled colorful Froot Loops into her mouth as she settled, leaning back against the headboard.

"Want some?" she offered. "They're good."

"No thank you."

I crossed my arms under my head and kept my eyes closed. I could smell the cereal. The spoon tinkled against the mixing bowl. Rory slurped each mouthful and crunched cereal. Tinkle, slurp, crunch. Tinkle, slurp, crunch.

Why a mixing bowl?

"You sure you don't want some?" she asked. "I have plenty."

"I noticed."

Tinkle, slurp, crunch.

She announced a full stomach with a sigh. The bowl clattered on a side table and Rory slipped under the sheet.

"Now, where were we?" she asked, moving into my side.

I pulled one arm out from under my head and, placing it around her shoulder, pulled her close. Rory's knee slipped over my leg.

"I have a sneaking suspicion that, when we become lovers, morning sex will be out of the question. It's a shame. Morning sex can be the best way to start a day."

Rory's hand stroked down my stomach. "It's still morning." She kissed my jaw. "You're scratchy and all manly."

I suppressed a smile. "I need to pee and brush my teeth."

"What happened to the morning sex stuff?" she asked, her hand reaching further down, settling over my boxers.

"I need coffee, too," I complained, my eyes still closed.

"This morning sex thing sure is complicated."

Finally opening my eyes, I smiled at her. "It's morning until noon."

Rory's eyes morphed, sly and contemplating. "In that case, you go pee, brush your teeth, and have some coffee. I'm gonna shower. I'll meet you back here!"

Before I could agree, she kissed my cheek and rolled out of bed, now full of bounce and energy.

I took my time, adding a shower to my list. By the time I was standing in the kitchen sipping coffee and studying the gentle drizzle outside, Rory yelled, "Where are you?"

Taking the coffee with me, I made a selfish decision, detoured to my room, then went to hers. Entering, I had the same reaction I'd had last night; a spark of excitement from the simple act of going to her room, a spike of arousal at how illicit it felt, and when I walked in, my pulse jumped at the sight of her in bed, the sheet covering her as she lay on her side.

Dark eyes twinkled at me. Her hair was damp. On her side, the sensual curve of her hip was pronounced.

"You took your time," she observed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I sipped the last of my coffee, put things on the bedside table and, as I lifted the sheet to join her, I caught my breath. Rory was naked - gloriously naked.

Pulling my boxers off, I got in and moved to her, my cock thickening.

She smiled and pressed herself against me, skin to bare skin, warm, alive, so intensely female and forbidden. Her hand rested on my hip. When I kissed her gently, pressing my lips to hers, she purred her pleasure. Shivers of excitement made my blood rush. An erection formed and she felt it, pressing her lower body against it.

Desire wrapped me in her sylphic embrace.

I caressed Rory's stupendous ass, slightly cool, incredibly shaped, her buttocks firm yet soft. Rory murmured and rubbed herself against my erection, side to side, caressing me, and I stiffened even more.

The kiss evolved with the tease of her tongue, a little poke and retreat. Her eyes crinkled with a smile. I tasted her lips and tried to press into her mouth. She tightened her lips, refusing me, her eyes twinkling gold flecks and, slowly, she relaxed, her lips parting, she closed her eyes, and we fell into a passionate kiss.

Rory kissed like no one else. She teased my tongue, caressed my lips and, with a groan, opened her mouth and consumed me. Tongues wrestled. Breaths brushed against cheeks. And then Rory reached between us and held my erection, her fingers closing around my shaft, her thumb caressing the tip. I actually moaned with pleasure.

As we kissed, I explored her butt crack and followed it down. Rory reacted, bringing her knee up to rest on my thigh, and my fingertips brushed across her anus, discovered her damp arousal at the base of her cleft and, as I traced along her labia to her clit, Rory murmured her pleasure again.

She squeezed my cock and whispered, "I love your erection," giving it a gentle stroke. "It's so hard."

A maelstrom of feelings swirled in me; excitement, adoration, and desire like I'd never felt - yearning for her. I wanted her, today, now.

Another kiss ended. Rory was breathing faster. Her face was flushed, eyes bright, and her lips looked swollen. She studied me and a slow smile emerged. She must have seen what was in my eyes, what my body was crying out for.

In the softest whisper, she said, "Me, too. I don't want to wait any more, Ethan."

I'd given this much thought over the last week or so, usually late at night in the dark. How do you make a girl's first time something worth remembering? Never having been with a virgin, I had no experience to rely on. I knew, intellectually, she could stretch to accommodate me, yet having seen her, it made my erection seem monstrous even if I was average. Pain was inevitable.

I'd debated; quick like removing a bandage, or slow letting her adjust to the experience, and I'd concluded slow was better. Quick might just tear her. The first time, simple, slow, and unadventurous was the way.

Smiling at her, I rolled her onto her back, rose onto my elbow and leaned over her. "Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?" I asked.

Rory, studying each of my eyes, asked, "Is it what you want?"

I was honest. "Yes. More than anything I've ever wanted before."

She smiled and softly said, "In that case, me, too." She put the palm of her hand on my cheek. "I mean it, Ethan."

I kissed her, pleasure flowing, erection straining, and caressed her breast, toying with her nipple. Rory's tongue became active. Her arm slipped around my neck. The tip of my cock poked her hip. I reached down and caressed her pussy, loving the silken tickle of her pubic hair and the astounding shape of her, sexy, full, yet so supple. Rory was aroused. Inside her cleft she was already slippery. She moaned into the kiss when I rubbed her clit and surprised me by reaching down and pulling my hand away when I probed her entrance.

The kiss ended. Her eyes were intense. She watched me reach for the condom and put it on, my cock straining. I grabbed the small bottle of lubrication I'd brought from my bedroom. Then, rolling towards her, I kissed her again. Rory reached down and fondled my erection, exploring the feel of the condom. Still kissing her, now gently, I spread lube into her cleft.

Rory shivered. She pulled her mouth away from mine and smiled. "It's cold."

As I stroked her slit, her smile softened. She stroked my cock. The moment arrived.

I moved over her. Rory spread her legs and I settled between them, slowly letting my weight settle onto her body. Rory wrapped her arms around me.

"I wondered what it would feel like to have you on top of me," she said. "Now I know. I like it."

To me, Rory's slender youth was magnified. Under me, she felt delicate and so exciting. She smiled at me, so pretty. I kissed her and, as I did, the tip of my erection nudged against her pussy. The kiss evolved from light to hot, slow and sensual, her mouth open to me, her tongue caressing mine. My heart beat harder. Could she hear it?

Excitement thrummed through me. I ended the kiss, shuffled down slightly, and kissed one breast, then the other, giving each a sensual brush of my tongue and light suck.

Rory murmured her pleasure. She watched me, smiling slightly, tarnished flecks of gold sparkling in her enchanting eyes.

My body ached from arousal and, as I moved back up, as she hugged me again, I reached down between us and guided my erection. The tip nestled to her pussy. The condom deadened my sense of touch. I rubbed the tip up and down her cleft and pressed slowly, her labia yielding.

Rory stared into my eyes as I found the base of her slit and pressed. Her eyes flinched when I pressed harder, her pussy resisting me.

"Does it hurt?" I asked.

"No."

I pressed slowly with more force and made no progress despite the lubrication. My cock swelled, now so damned hard. My heart raced, and I had to tamp down the excitement thrumming in me. I was so close, so close to having sex with her!

Then Rory moved, pressing her pussy at me. She winced. I held my position. She pressed again, eased off, and pressed gently. The feeling was so exciting I thrust slightly, my body taking control. Several things happened at once.

Below, I penetrated her, breaking her hymen, and the tightest grip I'd ever felt squeezed my crown.

Rory whimpered out her pain. Her eyes dampened, glistening with unshed tears.

My heart lurched. We froze. A powerful wave of pleasure made my cock swell. I almost came. And Rory gasped. "Stop! Wait."

I hadn't moved.

With the tip lodged inside her, I let my erection go and settled my weight onto her. We kissed gently. I caressed her breast.

"That hurt," she announced with a frown. "A lot!" Then her frown cleared and she added, "Why do you have to be so big?"

When I chuckled, my cock swelled again. She grimaced and gasped, "Stop!"

I combed her hair with my fingers and kissed the corner of her mouth. Under me, I felt her relax slightly, her body losing its rigidity, thighs relaxing. She kissed me. A smile reappeared.

We kissed for a while, then she asked, "How much of you is in me?"

"The tip," I informed her.

"Gaaaawd! That's all? Only the tip?"

Smiling, I asked, "Want me to pull out?"

"No way! We're not stopping until you're all the way in. We're doing this mister!"

I chuckled and my cock throbbed. This time Rory didn't flinch. She grinned at me and, so typically her, observed, "Isn't this romantic?"

This time I laughed. Unfortunately, Rory giggled. Her vagina tightened and expelled me, and her giggle turned into a groan of frustration.

I eased down her body and played with her sexy breasts, giving her time to recuperate. With her fingers, she combed my hair.

"It will get easier, won't it?" she asked.

"With practice."

Rory laughed. "Let's try it again."

I moved back up on her. She smiled slightly and, staring into each other's eyes, I reached down and guided myself. This time she brought her knees up. The tip my cock glided through her cleft, caught at the base, and I pressed.

It was slow, her entrance resisting, then yielding reluctantly. She winced just as I stretched her again, my crown penetrating her. Jesus she was tight!

"Much better," she murmured.

Movement was agonizingly slow. It started with me rocking my hips, applying very gentle pressure, fighting the urge to thrust. We made no progress, Rory too damned tight. But she didn't wince. If anything, her face relaxed. I kissed her, brushing my lips against hers and she responded with quiet murmurs, a touch of her tongue. Still, I rocked my hips, gentle pressure, eased off, gentle pressure, my crown gripped far too tightly.

Somewhere in the kiss, Rory relaxed, her eyes closed, and my cock slipped in slightly deeper. She groaned, this time not from pain, and curled her pussy at me. In tiny increments, I penetrated her deeper and deeper, her exquisitely tight vagina edging down my shaft. We moved together, slowly, very gently, and before I knew it, my groin pressed to hers. I was buried inside her warm pussy, completely buried. She was unbelievably tight, absolutely thrilling.

We stopped moving. She opened her eyes and smiled.

"How does it feel?" I asked.

She clenched her vagina, exploring the sensation of being full. "Strange, but good. How does it feel to you?"

"Unbelievably good."

Nuzzling her neck, inhaling her scent, I carefully pulled my erection out. It was almost as hard as it had been penetrating her. Then, slowly, I stroked back into her. God, so tight!

Rory inhaled and hugged me harder. I did it again, slow withdrawal, gentle thrust, this time slightly easier. I couldn't believe I was having sex with her; I was actually fucking her! My heart raced. My cock throbbed, aching and so hard.

As I fucked her gently, loving every minute of it, Rory's hug turned into a caress on my back. She kissed my neck softly and a shudder of pleasure shook me. Tenseness and weight in my groin arrived suddenly as I fucked her, slow strokes, exquisite strokes, her pussy so damned tight. I loved the feel of her young, slender body under me.

Rory started moving, responding to my slow, gentle strokes. She kissed my shoulder, caressed my back, and murmured something I couldn't make out. But it was too much.

I was too excited, too aroused, and the utter pleasure of finally fucking her was too much for me. Long before Rory was close, I succumbed, my orgasm erupting uncontrollably. With a firm thrust and deep groan, I came, erection swelling, sweet bliss hitting as I spurted. Pleasure swamped me. My cock pulsed, I buried myself inside her tight pussy again and exploded, ecstasy slamming into me. Unable to control myself, with short strokes, I throbbed and pulsed, spurting hard, cumming almost violently despite the slow pace, ecstasy pounding. I fucked her, spurting hard, glorious bliss, cumming until my groin ached.

My orgasm peaked and passed far too quickly.

I stilled. My heart thumped. The beautiful feeling of being drained and relaxed hit.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't stop myself," I whispered, now feeling guilty.

Rory caressed my back. "S'okay," she whispered.

When I tried to move off her, she hugged me tightly and said, "Not yet."

Chapter Fourteen

With lunch cleared away, we settled on the sofa and multitasked. Rory watched TV while texting on her Smartphone. I read a book and kept an eye on Rory.

She'd changed.

All morning Rory had been quiet, her eyes contemplating me. The edge to her personality was missing, that spark of wit. I was worried sex with her had changed our relationship, that it might have been a mistake - a step too far. I liked her softness, but I preferred the dangerous panther more.

To top it off, sex hadn't been a toe-curling experience for her. My fault. I'd cum way too fast. Rory hadn't even had time to adjust and find pleasure before I was done. It wasn't my finest hour.

How could I make things right?

RORY SHIFTED ON THE sofa and winced. She was sore. Out of the corner of her eye, she studied Ethan. He was behaving weirdly. Was he disappointed with her? She knew he'd cum. She'd felt it; his erection swelling and pulsing inside her and his groans of pleasure. She'd felt him soften inside her, too.

Rory shifted again. Unbelievably, despite being sore, she felt a stir of arousal. She wasn't a virgin any more! Rory smiled to herself. She had a lover now! She didn't regret it, so why did Ethan?

Her phone vibrated - a text message. She responded to Susie, promising to meet tomorrow.

Staring at the TV, her mind mulled over this morning. She really hadn't expected sex to hurt that much. The sharp stabs of pain had been intense and caught her off guard. Feeling Ethan inside her, completely inside her, was strange. She'd felt stuffed, stretched. Why did Ethan's erection feel huge inside her? So much bigger than when she'd held it in her hand? She'd known at that point, with him inside her, she'd never be able to climax. She was too nervous and too preoccupied with new feelings bombarding her. Her mind had raced, too, "I'm having sex with Ethan!" echoing around inside her head.

To her, the best part was having Ethan on top of her, his comfortable weight pressing her down, and hugging his naked body to her. It had been so exciting, being loved, intimacy like she'd never known, and she wanted to experience it again.

Every time she looked at Ethan today, she had a sigh that she couldn't get out, her heart thumping, an ache in her body.

But, why was he so quiet? Hadn't it been good for him? Was he disappointed in her for not cumming? Had she done it wrong? Not been responsive enough? She'd waited for him to say something, anything really.

Doubts assailed her. She hated doubting herself. She hated not speaking her mind, too.

Steeling herself, she broke the awkward silence and asked, "Was it bad for you?"

Ethan's eyes opened wide with surprise.

"Sex. With me," she added.

His eyes softened, sexy, warm. "God, no, Rory. It was fantastic."

"So why are you behaving weird?"

Ethan put his book down. "I didn't make it very good for you, did I? I was too excited. You felt too good. I came too fast; before you even had a chance to enjoy it."

Surprised, Rory exclaimed, "Wow! You're SO dense!"

"Huh?"

"Did you really think I'd climax after that pain? Did you think not hugging me today, or kissing me, I'd feel secure about what we did?"

"Rory . . ."

"I'm not finished! I loved making love with you. I've dreamed about it for long enough and, even if I didn't cum, it was amazing. You've been so quiet, I thought you regretted it. You're an idiot!"

Ethan grinned at her.

Rory got angry. "What're you grinning at? You've shown me no affection all morning."

Ethan laughed.

"What?! Now I'm funny?"

Ethan, laughing, shook his head. "No. You're spectacular, Rory. Utterly spectacular. You're the one who's been quiet all morning. I thought you were regretting it. You've been behaving differently and I was worried you'd changed. Clearly you haven't. I'm so relieved."

Rory crossed her arms and frowned. "That's no excuse. I was worried."

"Come here," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling.

Rory, feeling much better but refusing to let him off the hook, sat astride his lap and frowned at him. His eyes were so blue, so intense, the crinkles of a smile at the corners so sexy.

She studied his mouth, so male and kissable.

He pulled her close and kissed her gently. His scent filled her lungs. His lips were warm and soft, and all resistance melted away. She kissed him, pressing her mouth to his, her hands on his shoulders. The kiss changed with a touch of his tongue and Rory felt that sinking sensation, arousal returning. She tasted him and murmured with pleasure, then tilted her head slightly and opened her mouth, the kiss passionate, her heart beating harder.

When it ended, she sighed with relief and dropped her forehead to his shoulder. He hugged her, then kissed her neck, tickling her. His mouth moved to her ear and nibbled her earlobe. It was so sexy! So arousing, too!

Too arousing. Her pussy pulsed with a need to be touched. Her breasts responded, aching slightly. Suddenly, she was really horny.

"Damn!"

"What?" he whispered in her ear.

"Now I'm horny. Don't kiss me like that!"

Ethan chuckled. "I can fix it. Get up and turn around."

Rory stood and turned, unsure of what he planned.

"Drop your shorts," he instructed.

"I thought you were going to help me, not give yourself a show."

He laughed. "Drop your shorts, Rory."

She pushed them down. They fell to her ankles. She kicked them off while pulling her panties back up over her ass.

"Now sit on my lap."

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw his eyes twinkling with mischief. She settled slowly, her legs forced to the outside of his.

Ethan reached around her and pulled her back to lie against him. His hand settled over her T-shirt right on her breast. "Just relax," he said softly, nuzzling her neck again.

He caressed her bare thigh, kissed her neck, whispered, "Close your eyes," and his hand dropped to the inside of her thigh.

Rory closed her eyes. Senses changed. His hand tickled as it caressed and excited as it edged higher. Her body responded, heat arriving, lust and need.

She almost moaned when he carefully caressed her breast and mentally begged him to squeeze it, make the ache go away. Then she inhaled deeply when his hand cupped her pussy over her panties.

"I'm sore," she murmured.

"Shhh."

Ethan traced her slit sending small chills through her. He squeezed her breast and she moaned quietly - it felt so good! His breath was warm against her neck, his lips soft. Her stomach flipped when he murmured, "Mmmm."

Very slowly, arousal gained strength. Her pussy throbbed and she felt herself become moist, like a wave of horniness. Ethan reached down and slipped his hand under her T-shirt, caressing her skin and, as his hand moved up slowly, anticipation built, body tensing. She sighed with pleasure when he cupped her bare breast and inhaled sharply when he lightly pinched her nipple. Suddenly, she was hot, her body alive and tingling.

Ethan tugged her nipple sending sparks of pleasure through her, then squeezed her breast, warmth spreading. In her mind's eye, she felt his hand on her pussy move up, his fingertips toying with the waist. In her mind, she begged him to continue, "Yes, touch me!"

Then he murmured, "You have the sexiest body, Rory. I can't seem to get enough of it."

Before she could speak, his hand eased inside her panties, over her pubes, and cupped her pussy. His hand was so large, warm, the pressure so arousing. She loved being touched this way; gentle, intimate.

His finger traced up her cleft and touched her clit. She shuddered, her legs twitching to close. Sensations bombarded her; his caressing her breast, his finger teasing her clit, his palm pressing against her pussy, and his lips kissing her neck. Heat washed through her. Her pussy throbbed, and an ache emerged deep in her belly, a yearning for sweet release.

Breathing harder, she trembled, so horny now. Her heart raced. She held onto his forearm. Her body jerked, then moved, rocking on his lap, curling her pussy slightly in time with his strokes. She panted and moaned quietly at the pleasure washing over her, intense, concentrated, so incredible!

For minutes, she lost herself in his caress and her body's response, hot and horny, the promise of an orgasm flirting with her. Her clit felt engorged, sensitive, sending pulses of pleasure through her. Her orgasm flirted with her, dancing just out of reach, tenseness arriving, heart racing, anticipation, excitement.

It started as a small burst of pleasure in her pussy that blossomed up her body, her nerves alive. Then the thunder arrived, explosive, so hard she gasped, pure bliss slamming into her making her cry out. Her climax pummeled her, body rigid, then squirming, utter ecstasy washing through her. She gasped for breath and drowned in the intensity, almost agonizing, her whole body wracked with pleasure. Wave followed wave until, with a cry of bliss, she peaked, and her muscles released her, liquid peace arriving, heart pounding.

An echoing tremor shook her.

She had no bones left. She didn't even have the energy to open her eyes. Utter calm permeated her. And she felt him kiss her neck.

He didn't move. As if knowing how sensitive her body now was, he held her breast and cupped her pussy. She wanted to sleep, like this, on his lap, him touching her.

I COULD SMELL RORY'S climax. It was the scent of her body that changed, more intense yet still clean and beautiful. I'd felt her heart racing when she climaxed. I'd felt her legs try to close. And I'd felt the clenching of her buttocks as waves of pleasure had pummeled her.

She was heavier now, her body relaxed, and still breathing deeply. I did no more than hold her even though I had an erection straining. Rory's orgasms were truly beautiful and constantly different. From soft and sexy to hard body-curling they all excited me. Could there be anything sexier than a girl in the throes of a climax?

I wondered what it would be like to experience her climax when buried inside her. Would I feel her contractions of pleasure? I wasn't sure, but I knew I was going to try.

With care, I eased my hand out of her panties and my other hand away from her damp breast. She groaned quietly. Hugging her, I waited. It wasn't long.

She inhaled deeply and sighed it out. "Okay. You're forgiven."

"Forgiven for what?"

"For being an ass all morning." She sat up, turned on my lap, smiled at me, her face nicely flushed, and kissed me. "I'm thirsty. Want something?"

I watched the bottom half of her pantied ass undulate as she walked to the fridge. "No thank you."

"You sure?"

"Well, maybe a bottle of water."

Rory returned and sat on the sofa, passing me a bottle. She popped her Coke and sipped, sighed, and turned to lean back against the armrest. She stretched her legs out and her feet settled in my lap.

"How long does it take to recover?" she asked.

"I don't know. Longer for a guy. Girls can have multiple climaxes."

She shoved me with a foot. "Not that! I mean the soreness in my pussy."

I smiled at her openness. Rory was back. "How would I know?"

She studied me with her gold-flecked eyes, then said, "Don't tell me you've never had sex with a virgin before."

"I haven't."

"Honestly?"

"You're my first," I confirmed.

"Huh." A moment to ponder and she continued, "Do you think some guys are, like, virgin hounds? Always wanting to have sex with virgins? I wonder why? It's not like sex with a virgin is better, is it?"

When I didn't respond right away, she kicked me. "Is it?"

"It was pretty damned good," I confirmed.

Rory grinned. "Thanks. Now you can tell me the truth."

I thought about it. Was sex with her more exciting than other women I'd been with? Yup. Absolutely. However, I admitted, it was because it was sex with Rory. Sure, her being a virgin was an interesting aspect, me being her first, but it hadn't been the best pure sex I'd experienced. It could only get better, and that was an exciting prospect!

"Maybe not the best," I admitted.

Rory pouted.

"What? You asked me for the truth!"

She laughed. "I guess I need practice."

"I'll help."

Rory let loose with a rare giggle that hit me in the chest again. Damn, I adored her.

The afternoon passed with easy silences and animated conversations. Dinner was early. We were both tired. And the rain continued to fall in a dreary drizzle that sapped energy.

That night, when we went to bed, I made a beeline to her room. She grabbed my hand and led me towards my bedroom.

"I want to sleep in your bed," I told her. I did. I liked her room much more than mine.

"We can't. I haven't changed the sheets."

"Who cares?"

"I do. There's blood on them. We're sleeping in your bed."

When we finally made it to bed, Rory cuddled to me. There was a new comfort between us. Tense expectancy was missing, that little thrill of possibilities. But, what replaced it was easy intimacy, pure pleasure, and the promise of new experiences ahead - a far stronger emotion.

The week passed very quickly. Skipping work on Monday had put me behind. Tuesday and Wednesday were hectic. On Thursday, I received a call from the attorney handling the appeal of Joe Kipler's forged will asking me to appear in civil court the following week. The case was moving quickly.

That evening, Rory actually cooked dinner. It was a rare event and, even though it was simple roast chicken, she'd put effort into it, cooking roasted potatoes and spinach as the side dishes.

The aroma that greeted me was mouth-watering. Rory was full of smiles. She ordered me to sit at the table and, as she carved the chicken to plate it, I noticed something strange. Typically, we fought over the legs and thighs, neither of us partial to the breast meat. Usually a generous girl, Rory was very selfish about her food. Inevitably, I'd eat white meat and she'd consume both legs and thighs.

This time, as I watched, she carefully arranged two legs and thighs on one plate, the breasts on another, and set the plate with dark meat in front of me. I didn't say anything, but the gesture was significant. Rory was giving me the best parts, an act of love if I'd ever seen one.

The meal was delicious. I exchanged a leg and thigh for one breast on her plate and she responded, "You don't have to do that. I wanted you to have them."

I insisted. Interestingly, she didn't eat them, informing me they'd make a great sandwich for my lunch.

Something was off.

Rory was bright and chatty, yet she had some strange gleam in her eyes.

"I have to testify in court next week," I told her.

"How long will you be gone?"

"We'll be gone three days. It's in New Orleans."

Rory's eyes sparkled. "We? I get to go?"

I nodded.

"Wow! Wait till I tell Susie! She'll be so jealous! Is the Marti Gras on?" Not waiting for an answer, she continued, "We'll stay up all night and party!"

I chuckled. "You've been very happy today. You even cooked. Care to tell me what's going on?"

Rory gave me a sneaky smile. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

"What's special about tomorrow?"

"You'll see."

She went back to eating and talking about staying in a hotel and room service and dining out and the clothes she'd have to bring. Apparently, one outfit per day wasn't appropriate, although God knows why. I just relaxed and enjoyed her enthusiasm.

Friday morning, Rory showered while I prepared breakfast. As usual, I planned to have a plate of fried eggs and toast in front of her as soon as she sat down - a preemptive strike to deal with her grumpiness.

She surprised me by being relatively bright and upbeat. After consuming breakfast, she asked, "Can you take the day off work?"

I had preparations for the court case on the agenda. "No. Sorry."

"Can you take half a day off? This afternoon?"

"Why?"

She smiled. "I want to go for a boat ride. We could pack a dinner! I'll make it!"

I really needed to work however, her enthusiasm won me over. "Okay. We'll leave at two-thirty."

"Great! Get to work, buster! I'll do the dishes."

Very strange.

Promptly, at two-thirty, we left. The Boston Whaler carried us south. I planned to find a very secluded sandy beach and grope her to my heart's content.

Rory looked wonderful, young and sexy. She had the white bikini bra on and cargo shorts over her bikini bottoms. Summer heat was so intense, she sat next to me at the console, shaded by the cockpit roof.

"Over there!" she yelled over the sounds of three thundering outboards, pointing to a low key covered in stunted trees and bushes with a sandy beach.

I could make out the remains of a fire pit left by previous visitors. Easing the throttles back, the boat settled, engines burbling. I steered us towards the beach and anchored twenty feet from the sand. Water was shallow, perhaps three feet deep.

We unloaded the boat and, while Rory unpacked, I set off to find driftwood for a fire.

Rory was down to her bikini when I returned, my arms full of wood. She smiled brightly, looked around, checked the water, and asked, "Did you see anyone else on the island?"

"Nope."

"Great!" She reached behind her back and opened the bikini top, pulled it off and dropped it. "Guess what? It's National Naked Day!"

"You're joking. You made it up," I accused her.

"Nope. It started in New Zealand. Gotta love New Zealanders!"

She bent, shoving her bikini bottoms off and, racing towards the water, her white butt jiggling delightfully, yelled, "Get naked, Ethan!"

I dropped the driftwood like they were hot potatoes, shoved my swim suit off, and ran after her. She had a huge head start. As I ran through the gentle surf and dove in, Rory was fifty yards ahead of me and still swimming strongly.

I didn't catch her. She finally stopped, breathing hard, treading water and bobbing with the swells as she waited for me.

"Wanna race back?" she asked, grinning.

"You've had a rest. I haven't."

"C'mon! Winner gets to do anything they want." When I hesitated, she said, "Afraid of being beaten by a girl?" and taunted me with, "I dare you."

I didn't wait. Turning, I swam hard towards the beach. I didn't win. Rory rose from the sea, her back to me, water cascading down from her hair, along her spine, and over sexy, rounded, naked buttocks. When I arrived, I stood and paused to catch my breath, watching the sensual motion of her buttocks - really quite spectacular. I loved the gap at the top of her legs and the creases where her cheeks met her thighs - so sexy.

An erection was stirring as I waded out onto burning sand.

Rory flopped down on a beach towel on her front. I couldn't resist. Kneeling astride her feet, I bent and kissed one butt cheek, then the other. Jesus they were gorgeous! The peek of her pussy from behind almost had me groaning.

"You have another beauty spot on your ass."

She looked back over her shoulder. "Where?"

"Here, on the inside" I said pointing, then bent and kissed it.

Her eyes studied me. She grinned. "You've got an erection."

Horniness took the lead. I leaned forward and settled on her back, my erection nestling between her buttocks. The sensual swell of her ass pressed to my groin. Hot darn she felt good!

Rory crossed her arms and rested her cheek on them. I could see her small smile. She squeezed her butt. "You're really horny. Guess what?"

"What?"

"I'm not sore any more."

A rush of thoughts tumbled through my mind; sex in the open on a beach, Rory's legs wrapped around my waist, Rory on all fours, me behind. Then rude reality hit and I groaned. Fuck! I hadn't brought condoms!

"What's the matter?" she asked, giving me another sexy clench.

"You hustled me out of the house so fast, I didn't bring condoms. That's what's wrong!"

Rory shook with laughter. "Guess what?" she said in a softer voice.

"What?" I asked, brushing the hair off her shoulder and kissing it.

"It's seven days."

Confused, I asked, "What does seven days have to do with anything?"

"Absolutely everything," she replied. "I started taking the pill seven days ago. I'm safe!"

A surge of excitement hit. Then questions. "Last week? That's before we had sex."

Rory undulated her bum against me. "Uh-huh. My plan was to lose my virginity this weekend, but you got too horny on Monday."

"Your plan?"

"Yeah. I had it all planned out. Tease and flirt all week until you couldn't resist me, then seduce you Saturday night. We were going to have a nice dinner with candles and wine so you'd get silly. Instead, you screwed me on Monday."

"Rory!" I blurted, shocked at her language.

Rory giggled. "What's wrong? You said I could use raunchy language when we're alone. We're alone. You screwed me. I got screwed and I liked it!"

She had me laughing. It was rather delicious to hear her, so young, talking this way. To top it off, I had screwed her! My erection throbbed. I wanted to screw her again, this time without the deadening sensation of a condom. This time cumming inside her, filling her with cum. My cock flexed, straining.

Rory rolled her butt. "Get off. I need to suntan."

Rolling off her to her side, settling on my back, my erection stiff enough to rise from my stomach, I informed her, "You're a world class tease."

She smiled slightly, her dark eyes sparkling with gold flecks. "And you love me."

"No I don't. I just lust after your body."

"Nuh-uh. You love me. What's not to love?"

I smiled rather stupidly. I did love her, rather fiercely. Getting up, my erection waving, I hunted through the cooler and grabbed a beer - Harp Lager. British. Rule Britannia!

"I'll have one," Rory said.

"You don't like beer."

"Maybe I'll like it now I'm not a virgin any more," she said with a grin.

With a laugh, I handed her mine, found another, and sat next to her. Sipping beer, I caressed her great ass, smooth as silk, beautifully rounded. She made me very happy. When my fingertips edged into her butt crack, she clenched her ass.

"Nuh-uh! No touchie! Leave my ass alone."

I suggested, "It's crying out for a fondle."

"No it isn't. I'm trying to get rid of tan lines. Stop groping me."

"Can I put suntan lotion on you?"

"Don't need it."

"You're not much fun," I observed.

We chatted for a while, sipping beer. Rory actually drank the whole can. Sun beat down making my forehead bead with sweat. I marveled at how comfortable we were with each other, mostly due to Rory. She was a constant surprise, so comfortable in her own skin, confident; everything I found desirable in a female.

Sun started sinking towards the western horizon, shining brightly into my eyes. My erection had waned. Beer filled my bladder.

I stood.

"Where ya going?" Rory asked.

"To relieve my bladder."

Rory jumped up and followed me as I headed towards the bushes. "I wanna watch."

"No."

Reaching the bushes, I held my penis and tried to relax.

Rory pressed against my side, peering around me. "Can I hold it?"

"No."

"Aw! C'mon. Let me," she insisted, brushing my hand aside.

She took my penis with her fingers and waited. "How long does it take?"

My laugh relaxed me. I started to pee.

Rory played. She directed the stream this way and that, aimed it up to see how far it went and, as the stream slowed and stopped, she asked, "What do I do now?"

"Shake it."

She did. But then she tugged it, and the inevitable happened. My penis responded and grew. Before I knew it, Rory's tugging evolved into stroking and I had a full on erection.

She laughed brightly. "My turn."

Releasing me, she moved over to the side and squatted, her feet apart, her knees closer together.

I stared. Her thighs squeezed her pussy making it appear fuller, more plump. In the sunlight, her glossy black pubes were thicker in the middle, trailing off to wavy wisps at the sides, so freakin' sexy.

Then she peed. A hissing stream from her cleft hit the ground. The sensual, muting fog of arousal settled over me. Seeing Rory pee turned me on like nothing before!

The stream slowed and stopped. A couple of spurts followed. She stood. "That's a relief!"

Rory headed back to the beach towels. I followed her undulating, naked ass. Rational intelligence had fled. I was far too horny.

Rory grabbed a paper napkin, wiped herself, put the napkin in the garbage bag, and sat on her towel.

I stood at her feet, staring.

Rory glanced up at me and smiled. "Seeing me pee turned you on, didn't it?"

I nodded. So did my erection.

Pure playfulness emerged in her eyes. Her smile became a grin, canines emerging. "Bet you want to screw me senseless. Am I right or am I right?"

"Jesus Christ, Rory!"

Rory laughed. "You swore! Wow! You must be really horny!" Her enchanting eyes narrowed, sparking with mischief. "Seeing you pee turned me on, too! So did letting you watch me pee. Is that strange?"

Fuck! She was a wet dream!

Driven by hormones, I knelt between her knees and pushed her onto her back. Rory laughed and didn't resist.

I grabbed her legs, hooking them over my thighs and shuffled closer, my knees to each side of her ass, cock jutting out. A clear bead of precum oozed out.

Leaning over, supporting my body on one arm, I grabbed my erection and aimed. The tip brushed her pussy, precum glistening on her. I swiped my tip along her cleft and pressed. Her labia resisted, bulged, then eased apart to welcome my crown in a sensual hug. Driven, I rubbed up and down spreading precum, then lodged my thick erection at the base and pushed.

Rory's sharp inhalation cut through the fog, reminding me this was only her second time. Inhaling deeply, I looked into her eyes, calmed down enough to take it slow, pressing gently, easing off, and pressing again. The sensation was incredible. Her entrance oozed over my tip, yielding slowly, and suddenly, the crown slipped in. Easing back, I pressed again and my erection glided in, gripped so damned tightly.

Rory let out her breath and said, "It didn't hurt this time."

"Good. I'm thrilled," I told her with a grin. She clenched her pussy, exquisite, almost painful tightness gripping my cock.

I flexed my erection in response.

"I felt that," she said, smiling.

This time, despite a desperate desire to fuck her brains out, I had another plan. I leaned over and kissed her, caressed her breast and, when she responded, I ended the kiss. Sitting up, her legs over my thighs, I admired the intensely sexy sight. Rory's labia were stretched around my shaft making me appear a monstrous intrusion. Two thirds of my erection was buried in her. Her clit was exposed, soft, small. I saw my shaft expand when I throbbed at the sight of us joined.

"Touch yourself," I suggested quietly.

Rory studied me. She didn't show any modesty. Staring at me, she slipped her middle finger into her mouth, withdrew it, reached down and touched her clit.

"Masturbate for me," I whispered, my cock throbbing, horniness making me crazy with desire.

She did. Rory caressed her clit, felt lower where I was penetrating her, then caressed her clit again. "You like watching, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes. You're absolutely stunning."

Rory rubbed her clit with her finger. I bent forward and took each breast in hand, caressing, squeezing, and her eyes narrowed. I pinched her nipples and gently rolled them, then pulled, and Rory moaned, breathing harder.

"That feels so good," she whispered, her finger moving faster.

Through my cock I felt light clenches. It felt like she was milking my erection - unbelievably good.

Rory's eyes closed. Her nostrils flared with deep breaths, sighs of growing pleasure, then her lips parted and she was breathing through her mouth. She turned her face to the side. A frown formed between her eyebrows. She rubbed her clit, now fast.

A quiet moan broke. Her hips twitched, then twitched again. It felt like she was fucking me, her legs tightening and relaxing, pelvis moving. Fuck it was exciting!

Her frown deepened. She spoke. "I'm so close. Is it alright if I cum?"

My cock strained. I hadn't moved. The desire to fuck her was massive. I didn't. "Cum, Rory. Let me feel you cum on my cock."

Rory groaned loudly and I felt it. I felt her pussy clamp down on my erection. Her body tensed, paused, then released, hips churning, finger strumming her clit. She let out a cry of pleasure and fucked my cock, hips rising and falling.

I watched the astonishing sight, my heart racing. And as she strained one last time, gasping with pleasure before falling limp, I'd reached my limit.

Bending forward, I settled on her hot, sweaty body, slipped my hands under her shoulders to hold her tightly, and fucked her hard, withdrawing and thrusting into her tight pussy. I fucked her with desperation, driven insane by her climax, each hard thrust shaking her body. Rory hugged me. I buried my face in her neck and fucked her, selfishly thrusting, her pussy slippery yet oh so tight. Pleasure wracked me. Desire drove me. I held her slender body and fucked her hard, my groin slapping against her pussy each time I buried myself in her. My body tensed, ached, the promise of bliss nearing.

It hit. I gasped, "Fuck me!" and exploded, cum erupting with exquisite pleasure. The rage of my orgasm tore through me, each hard thrust bringing heaven, cock swelling, spurting, semen exploding. Fireworks burst in my head as I thrust and came, filling her tight pussy with cum. I chased the orgasm, my body straining, fucking her, fucking her, spurting everything I had. Pain arrived, my cock pulsing with nothing left. Suddenly, I peaked and, with a deep groan, my thrusts slowed, my muscles released me. Rory's pussy was very slippery as my thrusts turned into slow strokes. I stopped, drained, pulse racing. It had been the hardest climax I'd ever experienced, and strangely, it wasn't enough. I wanted more of her.

Neither of us moved.

Eventually, the sun was too hot on my back. I eased my cock out of her and rolled to the side onto hot sand.

Rory, her hair a mess, looked at me. She was so beautiful, a naked goddess. She smiled at me, her dark eyes liquid. She rolled into me, rose onto an elbow and kissed me. With a sigh, she rested her cheek on my chest.

A while later, she sat up. "I need to wash off in the water."

She stood and walked over the sand. I admired her ass. Rory waded in to her thighs and washed her crotch, then sank to her shoulders.

"Come in. It's wonderful," she yelled.

I joined her slowly. I had no energy. We swam and floated close to each other. When I stood, water was up to my chest, my feet sinking in the sandy bottom.

Rory came to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. She kissed me and smiled softly. This was a side to her, soft and loving, I hadn't seen before and I liked it.

"Is sex always so exhausting?" she asked.

Small waves brushed against us. I held her waist. "No. Sometimes it's soft and sensual. Sometimes it's hot and heavy. Sometimes it's quick and playful. And sometimes it's exciting and adventurous. But, the feeling you get after great sex is always the same."

"The need to cuddle," she responded. She hooked her heels around my legs and rested her head on my shoulder.

For the next few minutes, I relished holding her against me. The sound of a boat disturbed the peace.

Rory moved away, swimming slowly. A white motorboat chugged by a couple hundred yards off, fishing poles rising like antennas. I watched them pass. A couple of older guys waved. I waved back.

When the sound of their motor faded, we headed to shore. Without discussing it, we both put bathing suits back on. Sun was approaching the horizon. I started the fire.

Rory prepared dinner; cold chicken and foil-wrapped corn on the cob I dropped near the fire. I hunted for another beer, then remembered I'd brought two and Rory had consumed one. Bottled water would have to do.

Dinner was simple and delicious. Food reinvigorated Rory. I knew when, out of the blue, as she finished her second cob of corn, she said, "That's what I call being screwed senseless."

I burst out laughing. "Jesus! You kill me, Rory."

Her eyes twinkled and she gave me an impish smile. "Just so you know, I'm sore again. So don't expect any sex from me for a while, buster."

Damn, I loved her like crazy.

By the time we docked at home, we were exhausted. I didn't even rinse off the boat. We dragged our asses into the house, showered, and collapsed into bed - my bed. Rory, in her cotton pajamas, cuddled up to me, gave me a kiss, and that was that. I fell asleep with her clean scent in my nose and her warm body against me. Life was good.

Chapter Fifteen

I watched Rory and her friends on the beach as I set up a portable gas barbecue. Rory had cajoled me into taking her friends for another beach picnic today, Sunday, hinting at all the sexy things she'd do for me if I did. I'd capitulated rather quickly.

The boys, four of them, were playing Frisbee along the water's edge. Music started. I turned my attention to the girls. They'd brought wireless speakers. Pop music blared. I recognized a Drake song. The four girls laughed, then started singing along. They obviously knew the lyrics. When they started to dance together, the boys lost interest in Frisbee. So did I.

Four teen girls in bikinis were a perfect example of adolescence. Maddy, a short brunette, wasn't rail thin. She had curves and moved with sensuality. Hannah, a pure curly blonde, bopped. She had a full bust that bounced with her moves and a habit of tossing her hair back with a flick of her hand. She had the loudest laugh, too.

Susie was the shortest of the girls; a petite brunette. She was nicely proportioned, too. She was going to mature into a bright, intelligent woman and maintain her petite stature. She was the instigator of most activities, energetic and enthusiastic.

And then there was Rory, taller, slender as a reed, her thick dark hair full of body and bouncing as she danced. She moved well, too, not like her singing which was atrociously off tune. Her small bust hardly moved as she danced. I knew from experience how firm those breasts were.

The boys crowded in, joining the dance, laughing, sticking their chests out and trying to look cool.

With the barbecue lit and hissing, I started arranging hot dogs; a simple yet delicious beach food.

One of the boys moved to Rory, dancing with her. He said something to her and Rory blushed furiously, snapped words, stopped dancing, and walked away. She joined me, frowning.

"How's lunch going?" she asked.

"What just happened?"

Glancing back, she shrugged her shoulders. "Larry was crude. It embarrassed me."

Feeling a bit of anger, I asked, "What did he say?"

"Nothing," she brushed off. "It's not important. It wasn't appropriate, that's all. I don't think he meant it. He was just being stupid."

"Come on, Rory. What did he say?"

She looked at me and smiled. "It really wasn't anything."

"Since when does crude language bother you?"

Rory revealed yet another side to her personality, saying, "I like crude language, but only when it's with you in private, not in public. It's just uncouth."

I decided to have a quiet word with Larry. I didn't. Lunch was consumed with enthusiasm and much laughter and chatting. I saw Rory chatting seriously with Larry and he blushed. She'd handled it herself.

The afternoon was taken up with waterskiing. Interestingly, the girls were far better than the boys and they ribbed the guys endlessly with much laughter. Overall, everyone enjoyed themselves. They were still vocal and excited by the time I docked at home late afternoon.

Rory was tired when we went to bed. She didn't object when I steered her to her bedroom. Once again, I enjoyed the thrill of slipping into her bed, her stuffed animals, and the strong scent of her on the sheets bringing me pleasure.

When Rory joined me, subdued and soft, she wanted to cuddle. So did I.

"I had fun today. Thank you," she said. Then she nuzzled my neck.

"So did I," I assured her, stroking her back. Her pajamas were silky. So were her pajama shorts when I caressed her sweet ass, the material slipping and sliding over her delectable rump.

Rory murmured and kissed my neck, wafting the scent of shampoo and sweetness at me, and I slowly became aroused.

She felt it and rubbed herself against me, and, with another gentle kiss on my neck, her face pressed to me, cuddling became fondling. I eased my hand inside her pajama shorts, played with the waist of her panties, then eased my hand inside to hold her cooler buttocks.

Rory's knee edged between my legs and brought it up to press against my balls. She fished down between us and fondled my erection, then wrestled it out of the boxer flies.

I kissed her shoulder and traced her butt crack. She murmured, so sweet, and fisted my cock.

No words were spoken, our actions enough. When I pulled my hand from her pajama shorts and edged the waist down over one hip, Rory let my erection go, rolled away from me and pushed her shorts and panties off. Then she rolled back and pushed the waist of my boxers down. I helped, shoving them down and kicking them off. When we pressed against each other, her silky pajama top rubbed my chest, her naked body below rubbing against my erection.

Finally, Rory kissed me. It was a soft kiss full of love, warm lips pressing. She reached down and guided my erection between her legs, rubbing the tip along her pussy. Our kiss intensified with the brush of a moist tongue on my lips. I responded, fondling her exquisite naked ass. I tasted her. Tongues touched, and Rory moaned into the kiss. I loved the sound of her desire. There was no sweeter music in the world; an adolescent girl aroused.

For a few, sexy minutes, Rory rubbed the tip of my cock against her pussy. When precum leaked, we were slippery and the sensation changed; pure erotic pleasure. I felt her labia caress me. I felt her soft clit. And desire built into need for her.

Holding her bottom tightly, I rolled us, Rory on top, her legs falling to my sides. She still had my erection in hand and undulated on me, moving her pelvis, rubbing her pussy against my tip.

The kiss ended. Rory buried her face against my neck again, her breath hot. She moaned quietly, rubbing her pussy up and down, pressing, her cleft forced open, her labia a silky warm caress, and my erection pulsed. More precum leaked.

In the darkness of her bedroom, Rory paused, lodged my tip at the base of her slit, and pressed back. Nothing. She eased off and rubbed my cock around, then pressed back again. The sensation was like no other. Slowly, so very slowly, her entrance stretched. Heat and moisture edged over my crown until, with a sigh from both of us, I was penetrating her, my head gripped once again in her tight, tight vagina.

She released me. We stayed like that; just joined, on the cusp of heaven, my cock pulsing gently with excitement. Still no words had been spoken, our actions loud enough.

Rory kissed my earlobe and moved, pressing, easing back, pressing. Slowly, exquisitely slowly, she fucked herself onto me, taking me deeper and deeper into her velvety pussy, her entrance edging down my shaft in a sensual caress, until, with Rory's sigh of pleasure, I was buried in her, throbbing, her pussy so damned snug.

She brought her face up. In the moonlight, she smiled. "It didn't hurt at all." She kissed me gently, then said, "This is my favorite part of making love; having you inside me. I love how you stretch me and fill me. It feels so good." She kissed me again and added, "I wish we could sleep like this."

I combed her loose hair back behind her ears and smiled. "I don't think I could. It feels too good." I flexed my erection.

She smiled. "I felt that."

Then she clenched her pussy in response and a pulse of pleasure hit me. She clenched her pussy again. When I flexed my cock, she sighed, nuzzled my neck, and pressed her pussy back at me.

Our movements were gradual. Rory rocked on me, fucking me slightly. It was beautiful. This was pure loving, not raw sex. Her rocking changed into longer movements, her body curling, my erection partially withdrawn, then pressing down again, she took me deep into her.

I held her bony hips and helped, moving her slowly, pressing her down on my cock until the tip touched her deepest part. Buried in her, she curled her ass up and inhaled when her clit rubbed against my shaft.

A pattern emerged; Rory easing up, my cock emerging, me pressing her down, my tip nudging her end, and Rory curling her ass up to scrub her clit. She sighed her pleasure. My cock throbbed, thick and achingly hard, her vagina so snug, a slippery, sensual velvet caress.

Slowly, our movements became faster. Rory's breath panted as she took control, fucking me, rubbing her clit against my shaft. She moaned quietly. My cock throbbed, pleasure washing through me. I loved being fucked, being used. Minutes passed as we made love, sensual and erotic. And, as her hips undulated, the urge became too much. I finally moved, fucking up into her, needing to be buried in her young body, seeking release.

"I'm cumming," she whispered into my neck, hugging me tightly.

It was exquisite. As Rory gasped quietly, her vagina tightened and relaxed with each wave of her soft climax. I stroked into her, still not there. Rory's quiet cries of pleasure rang in my ear, thrilling me, such a sweet sound. She humped me, her body tensing and relaxing, fucking my erection, and with a soft shudder and a final tight clench of her vagina, she slowed and stopped. I felt her heart beating and her breath panting. She relaxed on me, her weight increasing, and I was still hard, still not there, and still needing her badly.

Holding her, I rolled us over and pulled out, lifting myself off her.

"Get on your knees," I urged her.

Rory, her face flushed from her orgasm, smiled and rolled onto her front. With an arm under her waist, I helped her rise to her hands and knees. My erection jutted out. I admired her sexy ass, how her succulent pussy emerged between her thighs, the light dusting of pubic hair on her glistening labia, and my desire intensified into a feeling of desperate need.

Grabbing my cock, I guided it. Her plump cleft bulged, then yielded, oozing apart, spreading at my pressure, and I felt it again, the thrill of penetrating her tight pussy. The sight inflamed me; my thick cock stretching her.

Warm wetness greeted me. I thrust, slick velvet enveloping me. Rory grunted when I buried myself inside her, her body shoved. Withdrawing, her labia clinging to my glistening shaft, I thrust again - so damned good!

I started fucking her, firm, long thrusts, exquisitely pleasurable. Her buttocks jiggled slightly when my groin slapped into her, the tip of my cock nudging into the end of her vagina. Without thinking, I slapped her ass.

Rory screeched in surprise, then gasped, "Again! Do it again!"

I slapped her ass lightly, fucking her hard, and slapped again, her buttock flushing pink, and Rory floored me by grunting suddenly, shoving her ass back at me. I felt it on my cock. Rory was cumming! It drove me wild. I fucked her harder, faster, gripping her waist, pulling her body back at me as I thrust. Rory collapsed to her elbows gasping through her climax and it was too much to take.

My orgasm slammed into me viciously. My cock swelled. Semen rushed up. Agony hit, and I exploded, cumming so hard I couldn't breathe. My gut clenched and I lost it, fucking and spurting into her, cock swelling and pulsing, semen erupting, exquisite ecstasy slamming into me. I couldn't control myself. I fucked Rory hard, selfishly, fast thrusts, exploding inside her, my orgasm raging through me. With a final, desperate heave, my body tensing, I pulsed for the last time, spurting weakly, and my orgasm released me from its clutch.

Exhausted, drained, I collapsed on her back forcing her face down, my heart pounding.

Moments of silence followed, my pulse slowing.

"I can't believe you spanked me," Rory said.

"I sort of lost it."

"I don't mind. I can't believe I liked it! I came so hard. We've gotta do it again!"

I brushed her hair away from her cheek and kissed it. Her eyes were closed. A small smile played over her lips. "Definitely worth doing again," I assured her.

Eventually, my cock softened and I pulled out of her, slipping to her side.

She opened her eyes and frowned at me. Rory was a gorgeous, mussed, glowing girl.

I caressed her cheek. "What's wrong?"

"You really came a lot this time. I've leaked onto the sheet. Why is it always my sheets we get dirty?"

I thought about Rory, fifteen years old, her womb full of my cum, and the male in me reacted; proud, excited, Rory mine! It made me smile.

Rory's frown intensified. "It's nothing to smile about. It's on my side of the bed, not yours."

She rolled. "C'mon. We're moving to your bed. And stop grinning at me."

Chapter Sixteen

As the airplane descended towards Louis Armstrong International Airport, the city of New Orleans spread below us. Rory's face was pressed to the portal. She'd been excited from the moment we left home.

Surprising me, she'd managed to pack everything into a small overnight case, assuring me she had all the clothes she needed. I'd briefly worried at her attire when we left. Skin-tight light grey leggings with a colorful T-shirt reminded me of the outcry when two girls were refused boarding. Then I remembered, they'd been family members of an employee. Still, the airline - was it United? - had made a huge public relations goof.

I'd also worried about her leggings for other reasons. They were so darn tight I could see where they pressed into her cleft and how her labia actually bulged at either side. Even her mons was obvious, shaped sensually by the material. My concern had been for my potential reaction. How could I fly with an erection in my pants and not be arrested? What would other passengers think about me with a hard on escorting a sexy teen?

Her exquisite ass was stunning, too. No detail of her sensually shaped buttocks were left to the imagination. She had such a perfect ass, compact, yet utterly female and utterly gorgeous.

Walking through the airport towards the departure gate, Rory leading, I'd watched her ass undulate - raw sexiness - and, when lust had raised its head, I'd commented, "Don't do that."

Rory, without turning, asked, "Do what?"

"Walk like that. Your butt moving and everything. It's distracting."

She'd laughed, obviously pleased. "I'm just walking normally. Stop staring at my ass."

I'd tried and failed. How could any normal male not ogle and admire?

We checked into the Hampton Inn downtown in the French Quarter. The room wasn't ready. Leaving bags, we strolled, exploring the quaint architecture, the French and Creole influences. Even mid-week, there were crowds of tourists. Interesting shops - tourist traps, witchcraft stores, and others interspersed with quaint cafés and restaurants scenting the air with mouthwatering aromas - kept us entertained. Rory was insatiably curious, especially with shops that promised secrets to voodoo curses.

We ate a late lunch at Antoine's Restaurant; a hundred and seventy-odd year old establishment. The Jambalaya was spicy hot, the shrimp sweet and tender, the chunks of ham smoky and delicious, all in a rice and tomato concoction. Rory consumed large glasses of Coke as she plowed her way through the plate with determination and frequent murmurs of delight. Her dark eyes were never still, constantly observing the baroque, ornate interior decor; green walls with gold accents, and old paintings and pictures covering every wall.

At three, we had our room. It was nicely appointed, neat and clean with a large sitting area and two queen beds.

With instructions not to wander far from the hotel, and to change first if she was leaving, I headed out to meet Jonathan Keeps, the attorney handling the civil case. I was due to appear as an expert witness tomorrow.

RORY SAT AND TRIED to watch TV. Too boring. She glanced out the window at the city, bustling with activity. Restless and still excited from the trip, she headed out to explore.

New Orleans, especially the French Quarter, was beautiful. She loved the intricate trellises and balconies, the wooden window shades and intricate iron balcony railings. Colorful flourpots added a magical feeling.

And the air! Everywhere she walked, the air was scented with spices and food. The Jambalaya had been delicious. What other dishes would she try?

She window-shopped for an hour and a half, oblivious to the people around her. Her mind was half on the goods displayed and half on Ethan.

Twice now, he'd surprised her. She'd often giggled at the tawdry raw sex scenes she'd read in romance novels, convinced they weren't real. How could two people go at each other like that? And yet, on the beach, she'd felt like she was being fucked by a raging bull, barely hanging on, and Gawd! Not only was her climax awesome, but being . . . what was that word? Ravished! That's it! Ethan ravished her!

Rory reacted to the memory, her body tingling. Was she a slut for loving it so much? It was the first time she'd felt she'd had no control - in someone else's power - and she'd never allowed that before. But now? Gaaawd! She wanted it again! His dominance and power were a bit scary, exciting scary.

How had it happened? Was it letting him watch her pee? Was it letting him watch her masturbate? That had been exciting!

The window of a clothes store caught her attention. She wandered in and browsed. That skirt was really pretty. Checking the price, she moved on. Sixty-eight dollars? Were they crazy? She checked out the tops, her eyes drawn to body-hugging spaghetti-strapped cotton ones. The colors were great; pastels ranging from lilac to green to bright yellow. And only fourteen ninety-five! She selected two and made her way to the cashier.

Bag in hand, she strolled along the street, her thoughts back to sex. Sunday night had been totally different. Ethan was right. There were so many different types of climaxes. In bed, it was like he could read her mind. No words were needed. For the first time she could read his body, know what he was feeling, and, making love so slowly had shocked her.

Ethan was different and she thought she knew why. He'd loved her, soft and sexy, careful and considerate, and her climax had been different again; softly intense and full of emotion. She'd felt him cum in her. She'd felt his erection swelling and felt wetness inside as he'd cum, and that had intensified her climax.

How many ways were there to cum? Were they all different?

She stopped. Her cheeks heated up. She was wet! Was there a wet spot showing? Darting into another store, she hid behind a display, checked she couldn't be seen, and bent, checking her crotch. Damn! A tiny dark spot on her light grey leggings!

She had to stop thinking about sex!

As she wended her way through the crowds, heading back to the hotel, someone grabbed her tit from behind. Without thinking, she reacted, twisting around and hitting the guy, yelling, "GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME, YOU PERVERT!"

I STEPPED INTO THE Hampton Inn lobby. Cool, air conditioned air greeted me. I breathed a sigh of relief. New Orleans was stinking hot.

A man hustled over from the registration desk, medium height, short brown hair, black-rimmed glasses.

"Mr. Grant?"

I stopped and smiled in greeting. A small brass nameplate on his dark suit informed me Robert Wheldon was the manager.

"Yes?"

He looked distraught. "I'm so sorry, but the police are waiting for you up in your suite."

Dread flooded me, my heart lurching. "What happened?" I asked, hurrying towards the elevator.

Robert followed me. "I'm not sure, but they brought your guest in."

Jesus Christ!

He followed me into the elevator, talking. I wasn't listening. My mind was churning, fears racing through my mind, speculative thoughts each scarier than the other. I ran down the carpeted hall and fumbled in my pockets for the key card. "Where the hell is it?"

"Allow me," Robert Wheldon offered, slipping his card into the slot.

I burst into the room to find a uniformed officer laughing, Rory giggling, both sitting in armchairs.

Relief hit. I stopped and tried to slow my racing heart.

The officer noticed me, smiled and stood. "Mr. Grant?"

"Yeah." I wasn't looking at him. My attention was on Rory, carefully checking her for damage. She grinned at me, cheeky, her eyes alive. Relieved, I looked at Officer Jenkins, according to his name badge. He was a big guy, broad shoulders, six-four at least, and remarkably kind eyes. They contrasted sharply with his heft made bigger by an armored vest, his police black leather belt with a holstered sidearm, and other tools of the trade.

"Now you're back, I'll head off. Let me say how sorry we are for the trouble. We try to keep N'awlins safe for visitors. I'm sure the guy didn't mean no harm. He'd had too much to drink. But, don't worry, he's gonna be sobering up at the station."

He extended his hand. I shook it, still processing it all. "Thank you."

When he and the manager closed the door behind them, I turned to Rory.

"For God's sake, Rory! You've been out of school for less than a month and this is the second time you're involved with the police!"

Rory's eyes turned into black onyx in the blink of an eye, a frown forming. "It wasn't MY fault!"

She plunked herself down in the armchair and crossed her arms, glowering at me. I took a few deep breaths. "Okay, what happened?"

"Some ASSHOLE grabbed my tit so I hit him!"

"Jesus! Are you okay?"

"Now you ask!" she threw at me. "It's the second time my tit's been attacked. It's becoming a trend."

Lord help me, but I burst out laughing.

Rory's frown deepened, then she grinned. "It's not funny."

"I know," I said, still laughing. "Can I kiss it better?"

"No!" She moved her crossed arms to cover her bust.

Finally sitting, I asked her more seriously. "What happened?"

She explained, telling me about hitting the guy and how fast a policeman appeared, how a couple of guys in the crowd grabbed the one who groped her, and added with pride, "He got a black eye. You should see it. And my hand hurts!"

She extended it. Her knuckles were red and swollen. "Let's get some ice on that."

Demonstrating she wasn't traumatized in the least, she exclaimed, "You're not putting ice on my boob!"

At dinner, another restaurant full of character, as Rory tried Creole gumbo with a side of dirty rice and beans, I informed her she was staying with me from now on. She was going to join me in court tomorrow.

"It sounds boring," she observed.

"It is," I assured her. "But, you're coming anyway."

"I'll buy a book," she said, taking a large forkful of gumbo. "This is really good."

By the time we returned to the hotel, my mind was on my testimony tomorrow. Rory showered. I crawled into bed, the sheets crisp and fresh, the mattress firm.

Rory emerged, hair damp, in plain white panties, bikini style panties that looked very good on her, and a white cotton camisole. She paused at the second bed and messed up the sheet and blanket, punched the pillows, paused to consider her handiwork, nodded her satisfaction and slipped into bed with me. She cuddled and I loved it. Her clean scent wafted over me. Her warm body pressed to my side. She brought peace and comfort unlike any other female I'd slept with.

"Tomorrow, after court, we explore, okay?" she asked, settling her head in the crook of my shoulder.

"It's a plan."

Rory checked my groin. "You're not horny."

Oddly, wasn't. The trip, the meeting with the attorney, the stress of Rory's adventure, and preoccupation with tomorrow subdued my libido. I kissed her damp hair. She sighed and hooked her knee over my thigh to get closer to me.

Sleep came easy. I was so comfortable with her in bed with me. Was I enamored? Yup. Was I in love? Yup. Was I worried about us? Nope. Not in the slightest. I knew, if Rory wanted something else, someone else, she wouldn't hesitate to tell me. It was her way - indomitable.

Into the second hour of my expert testimony, my butt had gone numb on the hardwood chair. Jonathan Keeps, the attorney, had finished his questioning, leading me in excruciating detail through my analysis of the signature on the contested will. He covered method and probabilities, accepted standards, my experience, and my conclusions. It was a bench trial; no jury, the judge the sole authority.

For the past half hour, the attorney for Joe Kipler's young widow cross examined me, searching for ways to damage my credibility. Unless he knew about my illicit relationship with Rory, he had no chance.

Rory sat at the back of the court watching me. She hadn't opened her book once. Every time I glanced at her, she blinded me with a smile.

Testifying was boring in the extreme and tedious as heck. But, two and a half hours of my time generated an income of several thousand dollars. Not a bad gig.

It was after three when I was excused from the witness stand. Rory, her hand in mine, was enthused, chatting about what she'd learned. I wouldn't hear what the court ruling would be and I didn't care.

"Did you see the other lawyer when you talked about the pressure of signatures being distinctive?" Rory asked. "His face paled! So did that woman's who was whispering to him. She looked angry. How old was Joe?"

"Sixty-seven."

"She looks like she's in her thirties! Was she a trophy wife? And did you see how her blonde hair showed dark roots? Why didn't she dye her hair before court?"

I hailed a cab.

Rory continued, "I think you won your case. The judge was nodding without realizing it."

"It's not my case."

"You know what I mean. I hope they paid you a lot."

I smiled. "They did."

"Let's celebrate!"

"As soon as I can change out of this suit," I informed her. She looked great; ready to celebrate. Her short yellow and green skirt matched her blouse. I liked how she'd matched her ankle socks - yellow. Her sneakers clashed - red and grey, very Rory.

"What should we do? I know! Let's stroll through the French Quarter. You can buy me a gift, then we'll stop for lattes and people-watch. Then you can take me for dinner - somewhere where I can have a drink. You, too! Let's get silly!"

She had me grinning stupidly. In the hotel room, as I changed, Rory sprawled on an armchair and hooked one leg over the armrest, chatting away. I lost track of the conversation, distracted by lemon yellow panties, skimpy little bikini panties that did a fine job of emphasizing the sensual shape of her pussy. What was it about panties? Why did they turn me on so much?

She noticed where I was looking and pressed her skirt down. "No lookies! And don't get any ideas, buster! I wanna go out."

"How about a quickie?" I asked, pulling on a polo shirt.

"Wine and dine me and, maaaybe," she shot back with a grin.

We left. I followed her, leaving her to pick our route, happy enough just to be with her. Man, my goose was well and truly cooked!

Chapter Seventeen

Sitting on the back patio, I mulled over work. Since returning from New Orleans, my workload had dropped to almost nothing. I had some old parchments that needed independent validation for a client before he'd buy them. Wasn't interested. He could wait.

Clouds drifted across the sky. When they obscured the sun, humidity intensified, then the sun reappeared and burned with radiant heat.

I considered taking the boat out for a spin to cool off, or go for a swim in the ocean. I'd developed an odd trait. Every time Rory left me on my own, I was restless. I checked my watch. One-thirty. She was off with her girlfriends, hopefully not getting into trouble with the police.

I should mow the lawn . . . or take the boat out for a ride. It needed gas. That's a chore, isn't it? From the patio, the Boston Whaler looked very enticing; shiny white, brilliant chrome, clean lines. It was bobbing with the swells, knocking against the jetty. Lady Gutenberg was definitely nodding to me, encouraging me to fill her tank.

I should clean the house . . . or take the boat out. I checked my watch. One thirty-two. Time was flying.

The caress of an ocean breeze died away. Heat intensified. Screw it! Lady Gutenberg, here I come.

Taxing away from the jetty, Rory yelled over the sound of burbling engines.

"Ethan! Ethan!"

Rory, on the jetty with Susie, was waving at me. I returned, the bow nudging. Both girls jumped aboard. I reversed, swinging about.

"Where were you going without me?" Rory challenged.

"Getting gas. Why are you back so early? Hello, Susie."

"Hi, Mr. Grant!" Susie responded brightly.

"Call him Ethan," Rory said. She smiled at me. "We'll come with you and get ice cream at the marina." Pointing her finger, she added, "Get going! It's hot!"

Before she parked herself on the bench seat, I shoved the throttles forward. Engines roared. The boat surged, bow rising steeply, and both girls tumbled onto the bench with screeches of surprise. I grinned broadly; the simple pleasures in life.

Less than thirty minutes later, we docked at Key West. The girls jumped out and went for ice cream. I filled the tanks and paid, then waited, and waited, and waited.

I was of half a mind to leave them stranded. Knowing Rory, she'd just go shopping and take a taxi home. Not much fazed her.

Sitting on the aft bench seat, I thought about her. Rory was a constant source of surprise. I knew she could be grumpy. I knew she could be feisty. And I knew she could even be shy at times. I'd experienced all those traits as she'd grown up.

What I'd never expected - who would? - was her attitude towards sex. Emotionally mature, she understood as well as I did that what we were doing was illegal in the strict sense of the law. She understood the risks, too, and showed it by being very, very careful when we were out together, making sure no overt act could be noticed.

But.

Rory was the most uninhibited girl I'd ever known, bar none. Experiencing her first climax, discovering she could, that there wasn't something wrong with her, had liberated her. Ever since, Rory had been . . . aggressive about sex. She initiated it frequently, luxuriated in it, enjoying every aspect of intimacy with an unrestrained joie de vivre that made me smile. She was a chameleon; soft and sexy wanting hugs, love, cuddling, and gentle sex; ribald and energetic wanting fun and laughter and adventure.

She could shock me with her forwardness or seduce me with her sly smile and twinkling eyes. I'd had more sex with Rory than I'd ever had with anyone and it wasn't enough. It was never enough. Even exhausted and drained, I felt the desire for her, the need in me for still more of her.

New Orleans had been a perfect trip - aside from the police incident. Rory had my number, subtly flirting with me through her eyes and subtle comments as we'd strolled in the streets, the night full of sounds and aromas. She had fiddled with the hem of her short skirt when we sat for a latte and knew my thoughts were immediately returning to her bright lemon yellow panties. She'd laughed brightly when I fidgeted, trying to control my reaction, her dark eyes aware of my struggles.

My responses to her seemed to build her confidence. She clearly loved it and so did I.

By the time we'd finished dinner, I'd been in physical distress. When we entered the hotel room, I'd grabbed her, wrapping one arm around her waist, shoving the door closed with my foot, and openly tried to grope her panties. Rory, laughing hard, had crossed her legs and wrestled to escape.

"You're mine, you little sylph," I'd growled.

Rory giggled and wiggled, her ass rubbing my crotch as she tried to get loose. Then she'd suddenly stilled, reached behind, and fondled my erection over my pants. Excitement pulsed. I relaxed, and she made her break, slipping away and darting to the bathroom, laughing her ass off.

"I need to shower first, Ethan!"

"Shower after," I'd countered. "I'll be quick."

With furious giggles, she'd disagreed. "Shower first. I'm grimy from the walk."

My thoughts immediately became self-serving. "Okay."

I waited until I heard the shower running, stripped, and let my erection lead the way. She didn't notice me in the glassed in shower. She noticed me when I opened the door and joined her.

With a laugh, with eyes twinkling brightly, she didn't resist when I stepped up behind her. She laughed again when my erection pressed between her naked buttocks, and the small soap bar in her hand squirted out when I reached around her and groped her breasts.

"Ethan . . ."

I pressed her face-first against the tiled wall with my body and humped her butt crack. I'd reached my limit. I wanted to fuck her. I needed to fuck her.

Water cascaded over us. I reached around her, sliding my hand over her hip and down, finding her sexy pussy, her sparse damp pubes, and explored, tracing the tapering shape of her mons, the deep sides of her vulva, and finally, her cleft, her labia so soft and supple.

When I kissed her shoulder, Rory sighed and said, "I need to wash," without conviction.

"I want a quickie," I informed her. "You're responsible for my condition. You can't tease me all afternoon and leave me hanging."

Her body shook with quiet laughter. "You're so easy. It's fun teasing you. Your eyes look like you're eating me up when you're horny."

I found her clit and rubbed.

Rory spoke again. "Let me wash and I'll let you have me in bed."

Smiling, I nuzzled her neck, stroked her clit, rubbed my erection along her butt crack and informed her, "I want you here first, then again in bed."

She laughed. "As if! Twice? Are you sure you're up to it?"

"We're gonna find out," I murmured, slipping my finger through her slit, probing deeper. My fingertip glided into her pussy, already wet, so snug. Excitement pulsed in me. "Right now. I want to fuck you."

Rory laughed quietly. "That sounds selfish. What about me?"

"I'll make you beg for mercy when we go to bed."

She giggled and disagreed. "No you won't. You'll fall asleep."

"No I won't."

"Yes you will."

"No I won't."

"Yes you will."

"Stop arguing, Rory. Stick your ass out."

She laughed, then curled her ass back at me. "Like this?"

"Oh yeah," I groaned. "Just like that."

I straightened, backed away and grabbed my erection, studying her sexy ass. Jesus! Perfect! Holding myself, I rubbed the tip between her cheeks. When it touched her anus, I pressed slightly.

"What 'cha doing?" she asked.

For just a second, I wondered what anal sex would be like. Would she enjoy it? Would I? I'd never experienced anal sex and now wanted to. Maybe later.

Bending my knees, I stroked the tip down, found her pussy and rubbed the tip up and down her cleft, pressing, searching, and found her entrance. Anticipation made my pulse race, my cock throb. With small, gentle strokes, I probed, pressed, and experienced the thrill of penetrating her again, her vagina so tight, oozing over my crown, slipping deeper and deeper into her, heat, molten velvet.

Slowly, my groin neared her cheeks, my cock disappearing into her and, with a shudder of delight, I was buried in her. Dear God it felt good!

My cock swelled dangerously, pleasure hitting. Grabbing her hips, I eased my erection out and stroked back into her. I did it again, so good. Holding her hips, knees bent, I started fucking her, long strokes, each pure pleasure.

Rory curled her ass out at me, bending at her waist, holding onto the tiled wall, and I fucked her harder, my cock sliding in, out, her pussy caressing me with a snug grip. Water cascaded. I fucked her harder, her buttocks shaking with each thrust. I stared, watching my thick cock penetrating her, withdrawing, disappearing, my heart beating faster. It thrilled me. It was so damned exciting. I fucked her faster, tightness emerging in my gut; the first sign of approaching ecstasy. As intensity strengthened, I started pulling her hips, tugging her ass against my thrusts, selfish, lost. My balls tightened. Pressure built. Cock swelled, aching, so close.

My groin slapped against her sweet ass. Desperation emerged - that striving need to cum, to fill her, to find heaven. Panting, heart racing, I reached that perfect moment, the point of agony, my erection straining, so damned hard. It came. With a hard thrust, my cock swelled and pulsed. Semen burned up and I came, release almost explosive, the spurt endless, exquisite pleasure. Falling into the grip of my orgasm, I fucked Rory with short hard strokes, exploding inside her, cum spurting, bliss, bliss. I came hard, swelling, pulsing, erupting, emptying myself inside her, sweet ecstasy making me dizzy. The peak arrived and, with a deep, deep groan of pleasure, my strokes slowed, pulses waned, my orgasm faded and, as I stopped, buried inside her slippery pussy, my knees felt weak. I wanted to gather her in my arms and carry her to bed, cuddle and sleep.

Rory squeezed her pussy on me. "Feeling better now?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at me, smiling.

My cock softened. I pulled out of her. "Much better." I grinned. "Thanks!"

She laughed. "You're a goof." Straightening, she turned and moved into me, her arms slipping around my waist. "I'm not sure about quickies."

"You didn't cum."

"Nope. Maybe, if you'd kissed me first." She smiled.

"Sorry. I couldn't control myself. You teased me too successfully."

She rose on tiptoes and kissed me. "Don't get me wrong. I liked it a lot." Her dark eyes twinkled. "You know what? I'm horny. Wanna know why?"

Holding her against me, I kissed her, then asked, "Why?"

"I can feel your cum leaking out. Is it strange that it excites me?"

Rory's expression changed again, a small smile on her face. She reached behind her, took my hand from her waist and guided it down to her pussy. "Here. Feel."

Despite the water cascading over us, I felt slippery semen leaking from her when I held her pussy. Her eyes narrowed, now sly. Suddenly, warmth washed against my palm. I groaned deeply. Rory was peeing!

Unbelievably, blood flowed back to my groin.

"Like it?" she asked.

"Jesus Christ, Rory!"

She fondled my penis. "Peeing really excites you, doesn't it?" she asked, feeling my penis thicken.

Lord help me!

She stroked me gently, still peeing in my hand. When she stopped, she said, "It's my turn. I'm hot and horny."

I groaned deeply. How could she be so raunchy and sweet at the same time?

Stepping back, she said, "Let's wash, and then you can service me."

I burst out laughing. She laughed.

"I adore you."

She smiled, obviously pleased, and threw back at me, "So you should. I'm adorable."

In that moment, in a flash of clarity, I knew I was done. I loved her. She was everything I'd ever wanted, ever dreamed about, ever wished for. I could imagine a lifetime with her, kids, a family, being blessed. In that moment, our fun, illicit, forbidden relationship became very serious to me.

However, that night, I'd woken from a nightmare, struggling to get out of it. As usual, as soon as I woke up, the memory of it was gone, leaving my heart racing and a feeling of dread.

Charlie, the marina manager, interrupted my reverie, yelling from the dock, "Hey! Mr. Grant!" Probably a good thing. I had an erection forming.

I looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"Could you move your boat? We have other customers needing gas."

"Oh! Sorry. Of course."

Maneuvering the boat along the pier distracted me enough for my cock to settle.

Where were those girls?

The two eventually moseyed down to the pier looking relaxed. Both wore shorts and T-shirts, with sandals on their feet. Both of them had bronzed tans, and both of them had sunglasses up on their heads holding their hair back. They were eating ice cream cones and chatting away.

"Look what we found," Susie said. She and Rory brought their sunglasses down, struck a pose, and smiled.

"Is that what took so long?"

"It wasn't that long," Rory countered, taking a bite of her ice cream cone.

"In man-time, it was an eon," I told her. "Where's my ice cream?"

"I didn't get you any. It would have melted before we got here."

She licked the side of her ice cream cone and took another bite, oblivious to the contradiction. It made me smile. I adored her so much.

Back home, Susie's mother picked her daughter up around four while I was swimming off the jetty. I knew it because Rory appeared in a conservative dark blue bikini, diving off the end of the wooden jetty to join me.

We swam, lazy, comfortable. Rory was subdued but chatty, and I was happy enough just to have her company, to see her smile, and watch her gold-flecked dark eyes.

By five-thirty, I was showered and changed into worn sweat shorts and an old tee, my mind on dinner. The white tiled kitchen floor was cool on my bare feet. Cold air washed over me as I studied the contents of the refrigerator, debating menu and beer selection. A visit to India with a Kingfisher lager might be nice.

"Hey! Ethan! What do you think?" Rory said from behind me. "I bought it in New Orleans."

Glancing behind me, I inhaled sharply. They were so damned sexy! Intricate lilac lace, her dark pubes showing, with no gusset lining her panties to hide her cleft, her vulva so freakin' sensual.

"My top, not my panties," she clarified. "Ethan? Eeeethan!"

"Huh?"

She grinned when I finally looked at her face. "The top. Do you like it? Only fifteen dollars!"

It was tight, body-hugging, spaghetti-strap cotton in matching lilac, forming to her breasts and slender physique, ending hip-high. "Not as much as the rest of your clothes," I informed her, my eyes dropping back to her remarkably sexy panties.

Desire rushed in, hot and intense, my body reacting. Jesus! I wanted some of that!

When I made a lunge for her, Rory laughed brightly and darted away. I saw the back of her panties; intricate lace, cheeky style panties revealing the bottom of her buttocks, her sexy butt crack visible.

Lust hit. I slammed the fridge door shut and gave chase. Rory laughed and ran into the hall. She darted into the bathroom and tried to close the door. I stopped her. Rory, giggling furiously, shoved the door.

"Uncle!"

"Don't 'Uncle' me, my little sexpot," I growled.

Rory hooted with laughter. "I'm hungry. Let's eat first."

"Nuh-uh, oh sylphic one. A quickie, then dinner."

"No!" she yelled, laughing and shoving her shoulder against the door with remarkable force.

The door closed. The lock clicked. "I'm not going anywhere," I promised, "and there's only one way you're getting out of there. A quickie."

"No!" she yelled back, laughter muffled by the door.

A negotiation ensued. Rory promised to surprise me in bed tonight if I made dinner first. I capitulated once she promised not to wear any other clothes for the rest of the evening.

It was a great evening. I drank two beers while preparing dinner. Rory helped, slicing onions and mushrooms, and chopping garlic. I suffered from soft arousal the whole time and she somehow managed to brush against me frequently. I burned my finger when distracted, watching her ass inside those panties. I burned the stuffed chicken breasts I was supposed to sear before baking them in the oven to finish off. Fortunately, the cream, mushroom, onion, and garlic sauce came together properly.

Dinner was, oddly given her attire, comfortable and relaxed. She rewarded our culinary efforts with plenty of "Mmmm" sounds and even ate the spinach. The sun set, darkness arriving.

Over at the sofa, Rory sat at my side, knees up, heels on the sofa, and painted her toenails lilac while we watched TV.

A sound bite of the President speaking played on the news. "I didn't understand a word of what he just said," she observed.

"Me neither." I watched her apply nail polish to her stubby big toe. "It looks cute with nail polish," I observed.

She glanced at me, serious. "Don't make fun of me."

"I never make fun of you. I like your stubby big toes. They add character to you."

"I'll never be a foot model," she said, returning to painting her toes.

"Since when did you want to be a model?"

She shrugged. "I don't. Not really."

"What do you want to do with your life?"

"I think I'd like to be a forensic scientist with the FBI or police. You know, like those shows on TV."

I pointed out how she hated science classes at school.

"Yeah. That's a problem," she graciously admitted. She studied her foot, seemed satisfied, and started her other foot.

"You didn't work today. How come?"

"I didn't feel like it," I told her. "There are no time urgent jobs."

"Will you take tomorrow off? I'll cancel my plans with Susie if you do."

"I dunno."

Painting her toes, she said, "Have you ever had sex on the boat? Or in the water?"

Strangely enough, I hadn't. "Neither."

"Not even a bootie call with one of your friends with benefits while I was in school?"

I chuckled. "No."

"Then we've got something to look forward to, mister. Take the day off!"

"That's a heck of an enticement."

"Uh-huh." She started on her fingernails, leaning back, her feet propped up on the coffee table. "How come we've never spent the night on the boat?"

"I don't know. Never had a reason to, I guess. And until a few weeks ago, the one bed was a problem."

She flashed a smile at me. "Not any more. We could go fishing. Maybe you'll finally catch something? A tarpon or a swordfish or a tadpole."

I chuckled. A tadpole?

With her hands done, she blew on them and studied them. Satisfied, she cuddled to my side. I dropped my arm over her shoulder and she leaned in.

"We should write a list. All the things we haven't done and want to try - a bucket list kinda thing. Gimme that paper and pen," she said, pointing to the side table.

With paper in hand, she said, "I haven't driven a car," and wrote it down.

"And you're not going to," I clarified.

Ignoring me, she added, "You've never caught a fish." She wrote Catch a fish on the list.

"I haven't smoked pot," she said, writing it down.

"And you're not going to."

"Have you?"

I considered lying to her and nodded instead.

"In that case, I'm gonna try. I'll talk to Jimmy. He's the pothead at school. What else haven't you done?"

Glancing at her, I saw the swell of her breasts down her top; just a sexy hint, creamy skin, petite. My mind diverted. "I've never seen you water-ski naked. I'd like to see that," I informed her.

Rory giggled. "Wouldn't that be a sight?"

"Uh-huh. Put it on the list."

She did, still giggling. "I wanna try oral sex." She wrote Blow job down.

In a split second, lascivious thoughts rushed in and my brain descended into sex. Alcohol made me speak before I thought. "I want to try . . ." I caught myself, hesitating, a bit embarrassed.

"Try what?"

"Um. Anal sex." Damn alcohol!

She glanced up at me, blushing slightly. "You've never done it. Like, for real?"

I shook my head.

"Then it's on the list," she said, writing. "If it's anything like regular sex, I'm in!" She paused a beat and said with a giggle, "Or you are!"

She made me laugh. She made me horny, too. I switched off the TV, grabbed her hand and stood. "Talking about sex has made me horny."

"Me, too!" she exclaimed. "Isn't that weird?"

Jesus! I wasn't going to survive her! But, with a grin, I knew I'd die a very, very happy man!

RORY LET ETHAN LEAD her by the hand into the hall. She knew he was turned on because he didn't clean up the mess left by the television. Very unusual for him.

She tingled with excitement. It was the same every time; the thrill of sex with him. She couldn't get enough. It felt like an addiction; the constant awareness of him mixed with her yearning, topped off by the inevitable horniness. It was like a whole new world had opened up to her. A world of pleasure, of titillation, of flirting - all exciting. And Ethan responded so enthusiastically, he made her feel good about it. He made her feel sexy and wanted.

He seemed to read her perfectly, too. When she wanted fun sex, somehow he knew it. When she wanted to be loved and adored, he did, sending shivers of pleasure through her with his whispers and murmurs, his gentleness.

Nothing she did sexually bothered him. If anything, his response only encouraged her! She couldn't believe she'd actually peed in his hand! But his reaction! Holy cow! What else would she experience?

Rory laughed to herself. If Susie knew some of the things she'd done with Ethan, she'd be shocked. Was Susie a virgin? If so, she had no concept of what she was missing!

Rory pulled her hand from Ethan's. "I have to brush my teeth. I'll meet you in your room."

Ethan stopped. "Why not your room?"

"I just put fresh sheets on the bed. I'd like to keep them clean for more than two days."

"Okay. Hurry. I'm horny."

Rory laughed and groped his crotch. He was! Fun!

In the bathroom, Rory studied herself in the mirror while brushing. She couldn't stop smiling. She'd promised to surprise him tonight and she was. She was going to take his erection into her mouth; try a blow job for the first time. She wasn't sure about letting him cum in her mouth, but if he wanted to, she'd do it for him.

She rinsed, tugged her panties down, and sat on the toilet to pee. She wondered what it would feel like to have his erection in her mouth? Would he like it? Was she supposed to suck?

Peeing finished, she wiped herself setting off a spark of arousal. Her clit was already sensitive.

Hands washed, she brushed her hair and headed to his room. This summer was the best EVER! She did a little dance, grinning, then entered his room.

Ethan was in bed, leaning against the headboard, his blue eyes looking at her. Soft, sparse hair dusted his bare chest. Sandy blond hair fell to his eyebrows. She noticed his broad shoulders, then the shape of his erection under the sheet. Her pussy throbbed.

Crawling onto the bed, she knelt at his side, leaned in, and brushed her lips across his; warm and soft. His scent hit her; pure sexy guy - her guy. When his hands reached for her, she brushed them aside. "Not yet."

Slowly, staring into his eyes, she drew the sheet down, her excitement mounting. She glanced down. He was hard. She liked his erection, thick, long, straight. Carefully, she placed her palm on it and felt a throbbing response. She curled her fingers. Her fingertips hardly touched her thumb.

Curling her hair behind an ear, she turned her face away from his, bent close to his stomach and, with butterflies in her stomach, she kissed the tip. It was warm, almost hot. She kissed the shaft under the head.

Ethan sighed, "Rory."

Emboldened by the emotion in his voice, Rory kissed the tip again, then slipped her lips over it, her mouth opening wider and wider.

Ethan's groan was loud. His hand settled on her back and caressed. In her mouth, his erection throbbed again. She caressed it with her tongue, surprised at how silky soft it was yet so hard - and so big!

Now what?

Rory stroked his shaft and sucked the head. She tried to take him deeper, and gagged when it touched her throat, immediately backing off. How could anyone deep throat something this huge?

She slowly eased her mouth back, lips slipping off, and kissed the tip, then reversed, lips tight, forcing it in, mouth stretched, and tickled the pee hole. Ethan groaned again. His erection throbbed and swelled. Was he going to cum in her mouth?

She wasn't ready for that. Not yet. She bobbed her mouth on him, stroking his shaft, and when she heard him and felt his erection pulse, she removed her mouth. Stroking him, she watched. The head swelled, red and inflamed. His shaft strained. Excitement pulsed through her. Exchanging hands, she stroked him faster and cupped his balls. They were much heavier than she'd thought they'd be.

Ethan groaned, "Rory." His hips jerked. His cock hardened, and Rory felt it pulse in her hand. She watched close, stroking faster. The head swelled and a bead of cum pulsed out. The second spurt caught her by surprise. He swelled, throbbed, and a long rope of cum exploded, hitting her on her cheek, hot, dripping slowly. She gasped and another hard spurt erupted, squirting onto her lips and tongue and chin. Ethan gasped his pleasure, his hips surging up. Another huge spurt hit her nostril, lips, mouth and chin.

It felt like a wild animal in her hand, jerking and spurting as she stroked. Inadvertently, she closed her mouth when another rope erupted and hit her cheek, and she swallowed his semen.

The pulses slowed, spurts weakened, then dribbled, wetting her fist. She slowed her strokes and felt him soften.

Her heart was racing. She'd never experienced anything like it! Grabbing the sheet, she wiped her face, lips, and chin. Finally, she turned and Ethan was watching her, relaxed but quiet.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Rory reached for a Kleenex on the side table, blew her nose to expel his cum, and started giggling. She couldn't help it. He'd cum up her nose! Why didn't any of her friends mention it? She giggled harder. She'd swallowed some of his semen!

"What the heck is so funny?" Ethan asked, smiling.

Gasping, she said, "It was like a friggin' hose! I've gotta brush my teeth." She scrambled off the bed, still giggling. At the sink in her bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror. You just gave your first blow job, girl! Another fit of giggles hit. She could taste him; not that nice, a tang of metal? Or chemical? Oh well, too late now.

When she returned to the bedroom, the light was off. Moonlight cast pale shadows. She slipped into bed and cuddled, his arm welcoming her. All horniness had faded.

Ethan hugged her. "I tried to hold off. Sorry."

"S'okay. It caught me by surprise. Did you like it?" she asked, smiling.

"Yes."

"I hear a but in your voice." Didn't he really like it? Doubts hit.

He kissed her head. "I loved it. Honest. Next time, I want to watch."

"You did watch."

He chuckled. "No. Your head was in the way. I'd like to see your eyes when you do it next time."

Relieved, Rory said, "So you'd like me to do it again?"

"Hell yes! As many times as possible."

Rory laughed quietly, relieved.

Ethan fell asleep before her. She heard his quiet breaths, his chest rising and falling. Sleep drifted in slowly. She hooked her knee over his leg, and cuddled to him tighter.

It was still night when she woke up. The moon had passed to the west leaving the bedroom in inky darkness. The bedside clock showed three-thirty. What woke her up?

Eyes open, she thought about it. Ethan's face was just shadows, undefined, his scent muted but distinct. Her breast was pressed to his side. So was her pussy.

She was horny! That's what it was. Her pussy throbbed gently. She remembered the feel of him in her mouth and it excited her. Carefully reaching down, she found his soft penis and played with it, wishing it was hard. It was amazing, she thought, how something so soft could grow so hard. Then she noticed it was a bit larger. She fondled gently and, as an erection formed, her horniness intensified.

She wanted the sweet release and languid post-bliss of cumming.

Ethan's hand on her back stroked down, his fingertips easing inside her panties. A pulse of excitement hit her. When his fingers tried to push the back of her panties down, silent communication, she let his cock go, reached down and pushed them off, her hand returning to his erection, fondling him gently.

Ethan's hand dropped to her hip. He pushed, urging her to move. Without words, Rory rolled on top of him, her legs to his side, his cock pressed to her stomach. She buried her face in his neck, reached down, lifted her hips, found his erection, and guided the tip, shuddering when it scraped over her clit.

She was already slippery, her body aching for him, to feel him inside her, filling her, making her feel so good. Still without words, she rubbed the tip of his cock up and down her cleft, slowly pressing back at him, her labia spreading, exciting thrumming. She guided him, lodging him at her entrance, and pressed back. An amazing sensation bombarded her, her vagina being stretched, stretched more, and just as a twinge of pain threatened, he slipped in, pressure abating.

Releasing him, Rory held his shoulders, nuzzled his neck, and waited, enjoying this; being penetrated, Ethan's crown inside her. She squeezed her pussy and pushed back, his cock slipping deeper, stretching her. Sighing, Rory moved up and back again, this time taking more of him.

Ethan's hands settled on her hips. No words were spoken in the inky darkness.

Rory eased up and pushed back, sighing with pleasure when he filled her completely, stretching her, his tip touching the deepest part. Curling her ass, her clit rubbed against his shaft and a shudder of pleasure washed through her, her areolae and nipples sensitive, tingling.

Straddling him, her weight on him, Rory hardly moved, just small hip curls, rubbing her clit on him, pulses of pleasure growing, her heart beating faster.

Ethan's hands pulled her up his body, his erection slowly oozing out of her, then pressed her back, filling her, stretching her. Her clit pressed against him. Another small shudder shook her. So good.

She moved again, excitement building, then again, slowly fucking herself on his cock. Soft waves of pleasure washed over her. Ethan kissed her head.

She used him, moving up and down, and the waves intensified, each bringing more pleasure. Her pulse raced. She fucked him faster, holding his shoulders, rising, thrusting down on him, full, stretched. Panting silently, no words spoken, Rory started building towards ecstasy, her pussy slippery, his erection so hard, so thick. She rode him, fucking him, body hunching, faster, need driving her.

Tense urgency built, her body crying out for release, muscles slowly tightening. Perspiration formed under her breasts and she fucked Ethan harder, faster, now gasping silently.

It hit. Pleasure ripped through her, exploding, bliss slamming into her. She fucked him forcefully, each thrust burying him inside her, filling her. Exquisite pleasure heated her, wave after wave of sweet bliss. And as her climax hit its peak, as her body almost ached from the intensity, she felt him! She felt Ethan's cock pulsing inside her; Ethan cumming! Shudders shook her uncontrollably, building until her body stiffened and, with a quiet gasp, her climax passed leaving her drained, boneless, limp, her heart racing, so tired.

Chapter Eighteen

Rory passed the second cooler to Ethan. He took it and strapped it down. She started loading the other supplies they'd need for their two day trip up the Gulf Coast; food, water, Coke, beer and wine, and clothes packed in two backpacks.

With everything stowed, she untied the mooring ropes. Ethan started the engines. The boat taxied away from the jetty. She joined him in the cockpit under the solid awning.

He adjusted the throttles, keeping the speed down, barely enough to hit plane. It was a slow pace, much like the whole morning had been.

There was something new between them this morning. She'd noticed it in herself first; a softness, relaxed, and sighs trapped in her chest. Ethan had been quieter, too. His eyes seemed to find her wherever she was, soft blue and full of some emotion.

He'd touched her frequently; a hand on her back, on her shoulder, or a touch of her hair.

As the boat turned south, she asked, "Can we talk?"

"Always."

"Serious talk, Ethan."

He glanced at her and smiled slightly. "What's on your mind?"

There was a lot on her mind. She had a lot of questions. Where to start? With sex? Or with the other feelings that were emerging; the ones she was worried about?

Sex. It was much easier to talk about sex than the other stuff.

"What we've been doing, you know, the sex, is incredible. I love having sex with you, as in really, really love it! And the more we have, the more I want. I worry that I'm becoming a bit of a slut."

Ethan placed his arm over her shoulder and drew her to his side. He studied her, then spoke.

"Society is bipolar when it comes to sex. The media encourages girls to be sexy while politicians and religious leaders warn against engaging in sex. The truth is, a healthy sex life, no matter how old you are, is good for your mental and physical health. Scientists have proven it time and again. Mental wellbeing includes a good sex life, even if it's masturbation. It's your body. It's your decision. As long as you're not being taken advantage of, and you're in control of yourself, you've nothing to be ashamed about.

"As for worrying about being sluttish, nothing could be further from the truth. You're not indiscriminately jumping into bed with any available male. You're not flaunting your sexual conquests. You're not bragging to your friends. What you're doing is enthusiastically enjoying a new aspect to your body with someone you care about. That's the way it should be."

Mentally, Rory breathed a sigh of relief. She'd worried that she was having too much fun. Never, in her wildest dreams, had she imagined sex would be so incredible. "Okay. I'm glad."

"Anything else on your mind?"

She slipped her hand under his Polo shirt, rubbed his bare back and hooked her thumb into the waist of his shorts. "Nope. Not yet."

The other things worrying her were more troublesome. Maybe later.

For three hours, they headed south past the Key West Naval Air Station and the Key West International Airport, cutting through the keys and heading north. The Gulf of Mexico waters were calmer and Ethan opened up the throttles until they were skimming across the water at speed, wind cooling them, engines roaring, the scent of salt water in every deep breath.

Ethan, without checking the GPS, piloted the boat, his eyes squinting against sunshine reflecting off waves. He slipped behind Pavilion Key and, at the north end of a tightly forested island protected by Pavilion Key, taxied the Boston Whaler to an almost hidden small beach. The anchor was set. They were thirty feet from the beach. There was little breeze, and more importantly, there wasn't another human in sight. The boat rocked gently.

Rory undressed to her bikini, grabbed a book, lathered sunscreen on and laid out on the wide, half-oval sunning cushion in front of the cockpit.

The next time she saw Ethan, he was carrying a fishing rod. "Getting a head start on that bucket list?" she asked with a grin.

"Yup. Today's the day. I can feel it."

"What delicacy are you tempting the fish with this time?"

He sat at the bow and fiddled with the hook. "Gorgonzola cheese."

Rory laughed. What a dope!

He cast the line and reeled it in slowly, cast again and reeled it in slowly. She watched for a while. She was always surprised at how calm and relaxed he was. Nothing unsettled him except, she remembered with a smile, sex with her; raw and furious at times.

She read for a while. Heat became oppressive. Perspiring, she dropped the book, stood, ran, and dived overboard, sweet coolness relieving her.

Surfacing, she saw Ethan stowing the rod. He yelled, "You're not supposed to disturb the fish! You scared them away!"

Rory laughed. "Your stinky cheese did that!"

He dropped his shorts revealing a swimming suit, tugged his Polo shirt off, and dove in.

As dusk approached and the temperature abated, they ate. A selection of cold cuts, lots of mayo for her, fresh French loaf, and fruit. Perfect.

The quiet was complete. Rory sighed with satisfaction when she finished, her stomach full, life good.

"There was something else I wanted to talk to you about," she started.

"I thought so. What?"

"I'm not sure how to explain it, so don't jump in until I've finished, okay?"

He nodded and sipped his second beer.

"I've been feeling afraid. It . . ."

Concern blossomed on his face. "About what? Why? When did it . . ."

"Shush! Let me finish."

He frowned.

She took a deep, bracing breath. "Ever since we've been . . . intimate, I've started worrying and I can't stop it. I worry that I'm too happy and something's going to happen to you and I'm going to lose you, or I'll do something stupid and ruin what we have. It's gotten worse in the last couple of weeks."

"What do you think's going to happen?" he asked.

Rory shrugged. "That's just it. I don't know. There's nothing specific. I'm just scared it'll happen and I won't be able to stop it. And then I lose you." She paused, then added, "I know it's childish but . . ."

"There's nothing childish about it, Rory," Ethan said rather firmly.

"Then, what is it?"

"I'm no psychiatrist, but I suspect it's natural. When you have something that makes you very happy, it's only normal to worry about losing it." He moved and sat next to her, his arm over her shoulder.

She sighed and leaned against him. "I don't think I could survive losing you," she whispered. "Mom and Dad were enough."

Ethan spoke quietly. "Life isn't always smooth sailing. Getting angry at each other is normal. Having arguments is normal. Feeling frustrated is normal. What makes the difference is being open and talking about it. Every problem can be solved by talking."

"I get that. I'm still scared, though."

Ethan tilted her face up and smiled. "In that case, focus on being my slave, cater to my every whim, and I'll be happy."

"I don't think so! You've got it reversed, buster!" She laughed. "You're a twit."

He kissed her and murmured, "Yes . . . Yes I am."

Despite nothing being resolved, she felt better. Maybe talking really did work.

The sun below the horizon blinked out and suddenly, the night was pitch black, blindingly black. Slowly, stars emerged in the sky. They multiplied as her eyes adjusted until a carpet of diamonds were strewn haphazardly across the heavens. The temperature dropped enough to make her shiver, even though it was still warm.

Ethan stood and turned a radio on, grabbed two beers, and handed her one. "Have a drink. You'll feel better."

"No thanks. That's your third."

"Is it?" He put both of them back.

Much later, Rory moved close to Ethan in the small cabin bed, a light cotton sheet over her. For the first time, she didn't feel like having sex. Lying in bed with Ethan was good enough . . . for now.

I COULDN'T FALL ASLEEP. Rory, with her admission of fears, had demonstrated a deeper commitment to us than I'd expected. It both worried and pleased me. It mirrored feelings I'd been experiencing; the fear that all this was transitory, that what was left when it ended would be harder to live with - no going back.

Like her, my feelings had evolved into a longer term desire. Who knew if a future together was possible? Given her feelings, I'd have to be very, very careful to ensure every step in our relationship was what she wanted, not what she thought I wanted.

Rory was such a complex creature; a girl of constant surprises, fascinating and enchanting. Last night, in the complete darkness, she'd woken me and silently sought pleasure. It was incredible. Yet, there was a quiet desperation in her. Had that been the manifestation of her fears?

Rory had fucked me. She'd used me. And I'd loved it.

Rory muttered in her sleep and rolled, giving me her back and hugging my arm to her.

Pain formed in my chest.

The boat rocked gently. Small waves slapped against the hull; the only noise in the night.

With a sigh, I rolled and spooned her. Her hair tickled my nose, her unique scent calming me. Sleep slinked towards me.

Much later, I struggled awake, fear making my heart race. Darkness haunted me. Another nightmare I couldn't remember, just a feeling of helplessness. When my heart calmed, sleep flirted with me. Listening to the quiet slaps of waves against the hull and Rory's quiet breaths, I fell asleep.

Rory's bright laughter echoed across the calm water. Early morning, sun just breaking over the horizon, she darted away from my hand groping her naked ass. I grinned with pleasure.

She'd woken up this morning all soft and cuddly, aroused me by snuggling, her knee pressing against my penis, murmuring sweetly. And when an erection formed, she'd laughed and left the small cabin bed.

Rory was back in fine form, teasing me, her magnificent eyes bursting with mischief. It was over breakfast - cereal and milk - that she'd glanced around at the isolated water and casually scratched under her breasts. The T-shirt she'd worn to bed rucked up exposing her naked pussy, then fell, hiding the gorgeous sight. And as I'd reacted, horniness and desire blossoming, she'd leaned over to put her cereal bowl down and I reached out and grabbed an exposed buttock.

"Ethan!" she'd exclaimed, jumping up as if electrocuted.

Undeterred, I lunged and groped, Rory darting away.

Smiling with amusement, I watched her duck into the cabin. Leaning back on the bench, stretching my arms along the cushion, I admired the view. It was the perfect time of day, light slanting to bring shadowed contrast to the dense trees covering the island. The quiet was peaceful. And the temperature was perfect; morning coolness but not cold, the intense heat still a couple of hours off.

I was feeling randy and energetic. One full day without sex had intensified my desire for Rory. And today, our second day, I was going to have fun before we headed home.

Rory emerged from the cabin below and moved to the foredeck. She hadn't changed. Her hair was brushed. In one hand she held a paperback. With a smile, she spread her towel and settled on her front on the sunbathing bench; a half oval, vinyl cushion-covered surface in front of the cockpit.

I moved up to join her, sitting on a side bench, and admired her long, bare legs. On her elbows, she read, ignoring me.

The T-shirt had ridden up, now very close to the base of her buttocks. Had she put panties on? Her ass curved up sensually, such a sweet shape.

Horniness intensified.

She knew I was admiring her. A small smile teased the corners of her mouth.

Standing, I headed for the cabin.

"Where ya going? She asked.

"I'll be right back."

Teeth brushed, I rooted around in my backpack, grabbed a bottle, and rejoined her in my old spot. Rory ignored me, or pretended to. But she edged her feet apart and I teased myself by imagining the sight that would greet me if I looked up between her thighs from her feet, the peek of her pussy pressed to the cushion under her, that dusting of glossy pubes on her cleft.

With an erection now throbbing and blood pulsing, I stood, moved to the sun tanning bed and sat at her side.

"What 'cha doin'?" she asked when I placed my palm on the back of her thigh.

"Admiring."

I caressed the back of her thigh, her skin silky and warm and, slowly, moved my hand to the soft inside, stroking her.

Rory tried to concentrate on reading, and as my hand edged higher, she sighed quietly, closed her eyes, and rested her cheek on the towel, her face towards me.

I teased her, flirting with touching her pussy but never making contact. I brushed my hand up under her T-shirt and caressed her naked buttock, then back down, once again stroking the inside of her thigh. Next, I let the edge of my hand lightly brush across her vulva.

Rory inhaled deeply, a smile flirting on her lips.

I stroked up to her buttock, pulling the hem of her T-shirt up, exposing her exquisite ass, and caressed gently. I loved her rump. I loved the shape of it, the twin swelling of her cheeks, and the sensual way they met her thighs with a small crease.

For minutes, that's all I did, enjoying it. Then, I returned to the inside of her thigh and caressed up again, this time touching her pussy, pressing the edge of my hand against her cleft.

She responded. "Mmmm."

Touching Rory intimately was very exciting, made more so by being in the open, the chance of being caught adding to the eroticism. I rubbed her cleft slowly, pressing gently, the side of my finger moving up and down. She was dry. Then, my cock strained inside my shorts when the first hint of moisture dampened her slit.

It started with a little spot, a point where the side of my finger slid easily and spread slowly with my caress. Gradually, her cleft was damp. Rory murmured her pleasure and her buttocks flexed once.

I didn't rush. I teased with light pressure, the edge of my finger rubbing across her clit. As moist arousal intensified, I drew it up over her perineum to her anus and rubbed.

Rory inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring. Her eyes were tightly closed but a cute frown creased her brow. Returning to her pussy, I changed tactics. This time, I eased my fingertip into her cleft, moist, warm, and slippery. Moving it up and down, her soft labia hugging my fingertip, I rubbed her small clit gently.

She murmured again, a quiet, "Mmmm."

Exploring, Rory was very wet. The entrance to her vagina was slippery and my finger penetrated her easily. She was snug and hot inside. I pulled out and went back to her clit, caressing her, then returned to her vagina, penetrating her to the first knuckle then out, back to her clit.

Rory was breathing faster, her back rising and falling with each deep inhalation. I explored her rosebud again, pressing my slippery finger gently. It stretched slightly. I didn't go deeper.

Returning to her clit, I rubbed harder and Rory reacted, this time moaning quietly, clearly enjoying it. So was I. My cock strained wanting to be released.

Her lips parted. She started breathing faster, her frown deepening. Teasingly, I penetrated her pussy with my finger and she clenched her buttocks in response. Her groan was longer, more heart-felt.

It was time. Returning to her clit, I strummed it fast and hard and Rory toppled into a climax. She grunted. Her legs snapped closed, her hips twitching. Then, gasping, her ass shook as waves of pleasure hit. Her hips moved as if fucking the cushion. She groaned and gasped, my finger strumming. The paperback book fell from one hand. Both hands curled into fists, her pelvis humping slightly. And with a final, deeper, longer groan, she went limp. Perspiration coated her forehead.

I was so damned turned on. Could there be anything more beautiful than a girl's orgasm? Anything more erotic? I couldn't think of one.

With her limp, I shoved my shorts off. My cock stood out, rigid.

My turn.

Straddling her legs, I grabbed the bottle - lubrication. Applying the gel to my cock, I leaned over her and settled myself onto her back, my cock nestling into the valley of her buttocks. They molded to me, hugging my shaft; sexy little pillows against my groin.

Rory smiled slightly and clenched her ass, encouraging me. I brushed her hair away from her neck and nuzzled. She smelled wonderful. Cock straining, I rolled my hips and my shaft slipped through her buttocks, a sensual caress almost as good as intercourse. For the next few minutes, I fucked her ass crack, a lazy, delightful action. Lube made her very slippery. Rory recovered and joined my motion, curling her ass back at me.

Then I reached down between us, gripped my slippery shaft, and, lifting my hips, guided the tip through her crack. I found her rosebud, stopped, and pressed gently.

Rory froze. I waited. Would she let me? Then, she curled her ass back up at me, pressing, giving me permission.

A shiver of excitement hit me. I was going to fuck her butt! I was going to experience anal sex for the first time!

Gripping my slippery cock, I pushed at her rosebud. Nothing happened. I pushed harder. Nothing. Changing tactics, I applied constant pressure and held it.

Rory started moving, pushing her ass back at me very slightly. She relaxed and repeated it.

"I don't think it's going in," she murmured.

"Okay." Disappointment hit me. I so wanted to try anal sex with her. I eased the pressure off.

"No! Not yet. If I can relax," she said.

For the next few moments, Rory experimented, pressing her ass against my tip, easing back, slowly pressing harder. The first thrill hit me when I felt her anus yield slightly.

Rory paused, then tried again. I pressed gently and, unbelievably, the tip started oozing into her, her anus stretching, stretching, and suddenly my crown popped into her, her anus an excruciatingly tight ring on my shaft.

Rory gasped. I gasped. We both froze.

With the tip in, I released my slippery shaft and settled on her.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "Does it hurt?"

"A bit going in, but not now. It feels strange. Like really strange."

"I can pull out if you want," I offered, not really wanting to.

"Don't. Let me adjust to the feeling."

Brushing her hair away, I kissed her shoulder. The sound of a motorboat reached us and I groaned. I'd just got in her and didn't want to stop now!

Looking up, scanning, I saw a white boat passing half a mile away. No problem. As long as they weren't using binoculars we'd be safe.

I was the first to move. It was a powerful urge. I pressed gently, eased off and pressed gently again, using her buttocks as a roller. My cock slid deeper, now halfway inside her ass. A couple more and I was inside her as far as I could go. My cock throbbed. This was different from vaginal sex. The ring of her anus was tighter, her insides almost buttery soft and warm.

"How does it feel?" I whispered.

She responded with an "Mmmm."

Assured she wasn't in pain, I started fucking her slowly, trying to be gentle, but there was something so illicit about it, fucking Rory's ass, the ring of her anus massaging my cock in a way I'd never felt before, that desire blossomed quickly.

I lifted my body and glanced down as I withdrew, and inhaled sharply at the sight of my thick erection framed by her sexy compact buttocks. Need slammed into me. My erection pulsed rapidly. Settling on her slender body, I started fucking her ass, long strokes, rolling on her buttocks, thrusting in to sensual warmth.

"Wait!" Rory whispered. She reached down, raised her hips, and settled again. I knew she was touching herself. "Okay. Keep going."

With my weight comfortably on her, I resumed, fucking her tight little ass. She undulated slightly, enough to make my strokes longer. My erection, rigid and straining, plunged into her, my groin slapping on her cheeks. I fucked her faster, driven by the incredible sensation and the thrill of actually having anal sex. My world was focused on the sensations, fucking her, fucking her.

Rory snorted suddenly and lost rhythm. Jesus! She was climaxing!

I lost control. Rising onto my arms, I fucked her ass hard, thrusting, burying myself in her butt, withdrawing, thrusting. I felt her anus tighten as she gasped and my orgasm raced towards me.

Cock swelling, pressure building, on the cusp of erupting, I pulled my erection out of her, pressed it between her buttocks, lay down on her and fucked her ass crack, my orgasm hitting. Hot, wet semen spurted between us, pleasure bursting. A harder wave hit and I exploded, cum spurting to her lower back. Another glorious wave hit and I fell into the vortex of my orgasm, thrusting on her sweet ass, fucking her ass crack, spurting on her, ecstasy thundering in. I came hard and fast, stroking between her buttocks, erupting, spurting, my cum hot and slippery, sweet bliss flooding me.

When the tumult passed, we lay still. My heart slowed.

Rory sighed quietly and rolled her sexy bottom side to side under me. "I can't believe I liked it," she said. "I actually liked being screwed in the butt!" Then she giggled. "I knew if I shook my ass at you, you'd do somthing!"

I chuckled, amused. She well and truly had my number. "Are you sore?"

"Nope. Well, maybe a little. And I'm a mess. You came a lot. Let's swim and wash off."

I was feeling weak and relaxed. "Do we have to?"

"Get off, mister! Or I'll never let you have my ass again!" She tried to deliver it sternly and ruined it with a giggle.

I rolled to her side with a groan. Her back was slick with semen. Very sexy.

Late morning, Rory read her book on the sunbathing bench. I sat at the stern with a fishing rod, reeling it in and casting. Hope does spring eternal.

There was comfortable silence between us. I suspected Rory was a bit sore by the way she moved. Her smiles assured me she was fine.

The rod jerked suddenly, reel zinging as it unraveled.

"Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!" I exclaimed loudly, grabbing the reel and yanking the rod up. "Rory! Rory! I caught one!"

I yanked the rod again. It tugged back. I gave it a huge jerk and the line went from taut to limp.

Rory arrived. "Where is it? I can't believe you finally caught one!"

I reeled in the line. Hook, Gorgonzola cheese, and weights were gone. "It got away," I said.

Rory grinned. "Yeah sure. And it was thiiiis big," she said, her hands wide apart.

"No, really. I caught one!"

She laughed and headed back to the foredeck. "It's staying on the bucket list until you land a real fish!"

I grinned.

By early afternoon, just past lunch, we were both getting bored. The only fish in the entire Gulf had decided Gorgonzola cheese wasn't to his palate. We briefly discussed going for a hike on the island, but decided it was too dense and the bugs were in season.

Together, we decided to head home early.

Chapter Nineteen

The next four weeks passed far too fast. I achieved little at work. Rory was far too distracting. She was happy, as in very happy. She flourished and matured as if overnight. It showed in small but subtle ways, her confidence in our relationship growing. While before, she'd ask to do things, now, she'd tell me to do things; handing me a grocery list and telling me to shop; directing my diet by taking much beloved Doritos away as I snacked in front of the TV and replacing them with fruits; and the real tell, dressing me. It started with a comment about my ratty T-shirt and spread to her selecting clothes in the morning and laying them out on the bed while I was showering.

Rory was exerting control and, had it been anyone else, and if I hadn't been so charmed, I would have resisted. I liked my freedom. However, I loved her care. In her own way she was demonstrating love.

In bed, Rory was frequently horny and unapologetic about it. And if I wasn't in the mood, she'd get me there with blinding speed.

Rory had my number. She knew how to control my body better than I did. She never resorted to nakedness to turn me on. Oh no. Rory was a artiste. A flash of panties or a draping blouse revealing unfettered small breasts, all done while seeming to do ordinary things, teased me endlessly.

She demanded and received frequent hugs and soft sweet kisses, and with the flick of her tongue could change sweetness into passion when the mood took her. And then, with me hot and bothered, she'd stop and smile, saying, "Tonight, mister."

On Saturday, she surprised me yet again.

As I relaxed on the back patio with a beer - Peroni, a visit to Italy - she strolled out, barefoot in shorts and a pretty cotton top. She'd been shopping with Susie. Sitting, she pulled out a slip of paper and crossed something off. When I asked what she was doing, she responded, "Crossing off bucket list items."

"You kept the list?" I asked.

"Of course I kept it. I added some stuff as well."

"Like what?"

Her eyes blossomed with mischief. "You'll find out."

She scanned the list, folded it, and, rolling her bum, put it in her rear pocket. From her front pocket, she pulled out a lighter. Setting it on the table, she dug through her other pocket and, grinning, waved a joint at me. "Pot! I got it from Jimmy!"

I have no idea why, but I looked around as if cops were hiding in the bushes ready to pounce. It was an automatic reaction.

"You're not smoking that," I informed her.

"Yes I am. Would you rather I try it at some party?"

Her dark eyes, flecked with gold, grew sly. She grinned, exposing her canines. "C'mon. Don't be a fuddy-duddy. We'll have fun."

She admired the joint. "We're at home alone. It's Saturday. We'll get high and watch a comedy. It's supposed to be an awesome experience, according to Jimmy."

Rory held out the joint. "You start it." When I didn't take it right away, she shook it. "C'mon, Ethan! Live a little!"

I took it, wondering what Rory would be like when high. It might be fun. Lighting the joint, I took a lungful in, suppressing the urge to cough, and passed it to her.

Rory, grinning, took it, puffed, inhaled, turned a bit green, and exploded in a coughing fit.

"Try taking smaller puffs," I suggested, taking the joint back and inhaling.

Rory grinned sheepishly and took a smaller toke, inhaling, holding her breath. Her chest constricted a couple of times and a small puff of smoke escaped her nostrils, but she held it in.

We smoked, passing the joint back and forth. A long forgotten, muted buzz settled over me. My body relaxed. Rory's tokes became deeper. Worries melted away. The garden looked more lush, the colorful blooms prettier. So did Lady Gutenberg. So did Rory.

I liked her carelessly layered dark hair. Her nose was cute, too. So was the beauty spot at the side of her mouth. Lovely bare legs.

She inhaled deeply. "The smell of those flowers is amazing!" she observed. "Smell them! Incredible, huh?"

Inhaling deeply, I agreed. The blooms were fragrant and sweet.

"I'm thirsty," she announced, standing. "Do you want anything?"

"Water would be good."

"Kay. Be right back."

I considered going for a swim, or maybe trying to climb a palm tree. I hadn't climbed a tree since I was kid. Why had I stopped?

"Here ya go," she said, handing me a sweating bottle of spring water.

She sat, put her bottle on the table and a plate of seedless green grapes. Taking one, she popped it into her mouth. Then another. Then another.

"It's incredible how these grapes pop in your mouth," she observed. "Are they different? Here try one."

I tried. It popped, sweet juices on my tongue. She was right! These were incredible grapes.

Rory grinned broadly. "Am I right or am I right?" She tossed another into her mouth. "Mmmm. The best grapes EVER!"

I laughed. We were definitely high. She looked very pretty, too. Was she wearing a bra? "Are you wearing a bra?" I asked.

"Yup. It's a plain old white one. Want me to change it for a sexy one?"

"No. Any bra on you is sexy."

She ate another grape, then said, "Guess what?"

"What?"

"I diddled myself in the shower this morning and actually came!" Grinning at me, her eyes sparkling with gold flecks, she continued, "Bad news for you."

"Why?"

With a smirk, she said, "Now I can get myself off, you're redundant!"

Chuckling, I informed her, "I'll just have to take matters into my own hands again."

"Yeah. There's that." With a giggle, she asked, "What's it like to have a nymphomaniac as a girlfriend? Pretty awesome, I bet. Every guy's wet dream."

I laughed. Rory was funny when high.

She popped another grape. "Mmmm. Delicious. Are you turned on from all this dirty talk?"

Surprisingly, no, I told her.

"So getting high doesn't get your libido cooking? No worries. I'll get you all hot and bothered. You're easy."

Laughing, I said, "You, Rory Callahan, are one of a kind! I adore you."

She grinned. "What's not to adore? I'm amazing. Am I right or am I right?"

She popped the last grape in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and observed, "Where did they all go? How many did you eat?"

"Four."

"Huh. We don't have any more." Staring at me, she said, "Go buy some more."

"Nope. I'm not getting close to anything with an engine in it while I'm high."

"I guess a boat ride is out of the question?"

"You're damned right."

"Shame. I haven't water-skied naked yet." Then, jumping up, she announced, "I'm hungry."

I glanced at the sky. Soft cotton ball clouds drifted. I studied one. It looked like the boot of Italy. No. A hockey stick. No. A musical note. Whatever. It was pretty; fluffy, pure white. Drifting without a care in the world.

"What 'cha doin'?" Rory asked, placing a plate in front of me. She had another plate for herself. "I made a ham sandwich for you."

"I was watching the clouds." I took a bite of the sandwich. Mayonnaise squeezed out and fell into my lap; a glutinous goop of yuck. I tasted mayonnaise, nothing else, and put it back on the plate. Hunger didn't overcome the slathering of mayo.

Rory ate away. "Mmmm. Good, isn't it?"

Nope. "It's great. I'm not hungry for ham."

"Give it here. I'll eat it."

I pushed the plate across to her.

She gazed up at the sky. "Look. That one looks like Jimmy falling off the water-skis, legs and arms all over the place." She took another bite of her ham sandwich and pointed, "And that one looks like you as an old man fishing off the dock and still not catching anything. See?"

She took another bite. "If you look at that one . . ." She pointed. ". . . you can see Wile E. Coyote. See? There's his eye, and there's his snout and arms."

This was amusing. Cloud staring was better than a Rorschach test.

"And that one is a woman with humongous boobs and a big nose," she observed, taking another bite. She tilted her head. "Or maybe a guy with a fat stomach and an erection. See?"

I chuckled. Hungry, I stood and headed to the kitchen. Bag of Doritos in hand, I returned, much happier.

Late afternoon sun was still hitting. I was sweating lightly despite the patio umbrella. Maybe it was the marijuana. "Let's go for a swim," I suggested as Rory licked her fingers.

"Kay!" she exclaimed, jumping up again.

How could she have so much energy?

We changed and swam. Rory splashed, laughed, and generally had fun dunking me. She liked being chased. She was a very happy, energetic, and high, girl.

When she tried to elude me after shoving me under, I reached out and grabbed the waist of her bikini bottom tugging it down as she swam away, exposing her ass. She screamed, "Ethan!" in pretend outrage, pulling them back up and drawing the attention of a few people on the beach.

She made me smile so damned hard.

But, at some point, Rory changed. It started in her exquisite, captivating eyes; a strange expression I hadn't seen before. She stopped playing, floated, not smiling, and watched me, flecks of pure 24 karat gold caught in the late afternoon light.

She circled me as I floated as if corralling me, then came closer.

In a very quiet voice, she said, "I think you should know, I'm in love with you."

Being high seemed to magnify my emotions, the tightness in my chest making it hard to breathe.

"You're it, Ethan," she continued. "You're the one I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. You need to accept it."

She came closer and closer, staring into my eyes, wrapped her arms around my neck and brushed her lips on mine. "I'm telling you now so you can adjust to the idea."

This was a different girl speaking. Shocked, I realized this was a woman speaking, assured, confident, indomitable. One month into her summer vacation and she'd blossomed and matured beyond understanding.

Even stranger, despite being high, I knew she was right. I had no doubt whatsoever. Rory was it. This beautiful, abnormally mature, charming, forceful, and endlessly fascinating girl was the one I loved.

I tried to speak, but my throat was tight. Words seems to fail me. Instead, I took her hand and pulled her towards the beach. We rose out of the surf together, still holding hands. I led her back to the house and, in the privacy of our bedroom, I made love to her.

It wasn't frantic. It wasn't desperate. It was slow.

Rory stood perfectly still and let me untie her bikini bra. She let me look as I removed it, let me study her perfect, firm, small breasts. She let me untie the sides of her bikini bottom. It fell away, and she stood still, letting me admire her youthful beauty, the way her moms swelled out, her silken pubic bush so sexy.

She watched me as I dropped my swimming suit, then looked down at my partial erection. I took her hand and led her to the bed. Together, we laid down facing each other.

Finally, I spoke. "Okay."

Rory's eyes searched mine. A smile curled the corners of her sensual lips. "Good," she said, a simple word full of meaning. And, with her palm on my jaw, she kissed me.

My senses were on overdrive. Her lips were pure, warm silk. I could smell her, sweet, a faint trace of perfume and salt. When I touched her hip, I drew her closer and the soft skin of her stomach pressed against my cock. Her firm breasts touched my chest, then pressed.

Rory's kiss evolved. Her lips moved. We tilted our heads and lips parted, tongues emerged in a soft, intimate caress. She was smiling at me when it ended, her eyes twinkling. She reached down between us and gently held my cock, stroking slowly, the pad of her thumb caressing the tip.

She brought me to a full erection, staring into my eyes and, when a bead of precum made her thumb slip and slide, she said quietly, "I love feeling you like this. It shows how much I turn you on."

She spread precum over the crown. I still held her hip. When my cock throbbed, I pushed her onto her back, leaned over, and gently sucked her breast, tasting her dark areola and exploring her nipple.

Below, I combed her small pubic bush, tracing my fingers through the silky, wavy hair, exploring the sensual pad of her mons, the way it swelled from her body. I avoided her cleft, staying on top.

Rory squeezed my erection.

I kissed her other breast, pleased with how the first had darkened slightly, flushed, her nipple larger. Then I went back to her lips, kissing her gently. Rory murmured and moved her pelvis as if asking me to touch her lower. I didn't. We kissed; light and teasing.

Rory announced she'd had enough with a moan, her mouth pressing opening, tongue active. She let my erection go and urged me on top, her legs parting.

I settled on her, still kissing her, and Rory reached down, gripped my erection, and guided it.

She was wet, her cleft slippery, and with mounting desperation, she rubbed my tip up and down, tugging me closer. Labia parted. She lodged me at her entrance, curled her legs around my thighs and pulled.

When I penetrated her, she snorted in a breath through her nose, our kiss hot, passionate. Her vagina gripped me so damned tightly, a hot, velvet vise. And, with a firm thrust, Rory groaned, and I buried myself inside her.

Movement stopped. Inside her snug pussy, my erection throbbed. The kiss ended. She opened her eyes and I stared into them, rubbing my groin against her pussy. She inhaled deeply and I started fucking her, slow withdrawals, exquisite thrusts, her pussy so warm, so tight. I fucked her slowly, long, long strokes, almost pulling out, then thrusting in. Rory's legs encouraged me, pulling. Staring into her eyes, I fucked her slowly yet firmly, unadventurous and wonderful. And gradually she started moving under me, pushing her pussy up at my thrusts, curling back. She was so slippery, so aroused, so exquisitely tight. Our pace increased, hearts beating faster. I fucked her with long strokes, firm strokes, burying myself inside her with each beautiful thrust.

We moved together faster. Rory held my shoulder blades, staring at me. Then her eyes narrowed and lost focus for a moment. She whispered, "Ethan," her eyes closing for the first time, and her pussy clenched gently as she tumbled into her climax. I followed, swelling, swelling, and exploding deep in her, pleasure blossoming. With gentle, firm thrusts, I erupted, spurting into her hard, each explosion taking my breath away. I fucked her and came, still staring at her beautiful face, my body straining. Rory gasped, gripping my body, and I spurted deep inside her and, suddenly, it passed. Pulses weakened and slowed and stopped; empty, drained.

Rory's pussy milked me with gentle massages, her hips slowing. She stopped and I kissed her.

Rory sighed, eyes still closed, face relaxed, and pulled my head to her neck, her legs still holding me on top of her. I relaxed, settling my full weight on her young body.

Eventually we moved. We showered together and Rory washed me. I washed her. It wasn't frisky. This was pure enjoyment of each other's body. Dinner was leftovers and Doritos and ice cream, and it all was delicious.

We watched TV together and I drank a couple of beers feeling very good; a bit tipsy and still slightly high. Rory gigged quietly, then burst into laughter at a sitcom. She was still high. Her pleasure warmed my soul and was so darn beautiful I had to smile.

Rory was possessive through the evening. She had her hand touching me constantly - sometimes just resting it, other times caressing absentmindedly. The ease between us had hit new highs; more meaningful - a future together. Maybe even a family.

And that night, she cuddled close in the dark, her head in the crook of my shoulder, and whispered, "I love you, Ethan Grant."

With a kiss on her head, I assured her I loved her more. I did. The love I had for her scared me with its intensity. I'd never felt anything like it.

Sleep took me away, her warm body against me, her unique scent enveloping me, sweet dreams promised.

Rory was in fine form as we drove to the grocery store. The day was another perfect Florida day; hot, the skies clear.

She studied her Smartphone and said, "After the grocery store, we need to go to the butchers. If you want fish tonight, we'll have to stop at the fish place. And don't forget to buy toothpaste. You're almost out."

"Yes, ma'am," I answered with a smile.

"We have to buy food for the picnic tomorrow. I thought burgers would be nice, with a big salad. That way Hannah will be happy. She's on a diet, though God knows why. Do you have gas for the barbecue? Maybe we should get some just in case."

"Yes, ma'am," I intoned, hanging a right off the causeway and downshifting.

Rory glanced out the window. "It's gonna be sunny tomorrow. We should buy some sunscreen in case the other guys forget to bring any."

"Yes, ma'am."

She turned to me and frowned. "Are you making fun of me?"

"No, ma'am," I assured her, coming to a stop at the lights.

"You are!"

I laughed. "Rory, I've planned tons of beach parties over the years. I don't need instructions."

"I do it better," she insisted, facing forward.

"What panties are you wearing today?" I asked.

"What's that got to do with anything?" she retorted.

"Today's National Underwear Day. I want to celebrate."

She stared at me. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Today's my favorite holiday of the month. National Underwear Day. What 'cha wearing? Give me a peek," I suggested, grinning. The traffic light turned green. I accelerated.

Rory laughed brightly. "You're such a numb-chuck!" She flicked her skirt up flashing sexy yellow cotton at me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it barreling towards us from my side. The semi slammed into us violently. Everything went black.

Dark dreams haunted me. I struggled, fear making my heart race. Something was wrong, so very wrong. Rory cried out, "Ethan! Ethan!" and I couldn't see her, darkness all around me. I struggled to move and my legs wouldn't respond. Terror curled its claws around my heart and I cried out, "RORY!"

It's a dream. It has to be a dream. Wake up. Wake up!

Opening my eyes, perspiring, I found dark eyes flecked with tarnished gold - Rory staring at me.

Eyes damp, she smiled. "Finally."

Memories rushed back. "Jesus Christ! Are you all right?"

She nodded. "You scared me, Ethan. There was so much blood."

"What happened?" I struggled to sit up, the hospital room antiseptically white.

"You were lucky. A broken leg, concussion, and cuts on your face. They bled so badly." Her eyes intensified. "Don't you EVER do that to me again!"

"How did it happen?" I asked, trying to remember.

She frowned at me. "You and your crazy holidays! That's how!"

I remembered and grinned; must be on drugs, I thought. "National Underwear Day! You had yellow panties."

Rory's eyes brimmed suddenly. "It was my fault. I should never have flashed you. I almost got you killed!"

Reaching out, I caressed her cheek. "No you didn't. We didn't run a red light. It was going to happen no matter what." I smiled. "Look on the bright side. "

"What bright side?"

"You get to cater to my every last whim while I recover. You'll have fun."

She laughed weakly. "No I won't."

"Sure you will. Bed baths?" I suggested, wiggling my eyebrows.

She laughed again, shaking her head. "You're such a twit, Ethan Grant!" Her amusement faded away. She leaned over me, resting her cheek on my chest, arms around me. "I was so scared."

Epilogue

The sun beat down. A light ocean breeze brought the scent of salt. Palm leaves rustled. Small ocean swells slinked towards the sandy beach. Lady Gutenberg, still pristine white and shiny chrome, bobbed lazily, knocking against the jetty trying to get my attention.

My eyes turned to Samantha in her pink, one piece Disney Princess bathing suit playing with the sprinkler, running through it with cute little leaps.

The screen door opened and slammed shut, taking my attention away from my daughter.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Rory frowning at me. A quick glance at my watch confirmed it was nowhere near lunch time. For a moment, I admired her. She'd grown into a tall, beautiful woman that still made my heart skip. At twenty-eight, she looked just as pretty as she had at fifteen. No longer slender, she waddled over to me, her stomach distended.

"I can't believe you talked me into another baby!" she accused, lowering herself ponderously into the chair.

I grinned.

"Don't you grin at me, mister!"

"It was your idea," I clarified.

"You were pretty enthusiastic, if I remember." She groaned and rubbed her stomach. "Stop kicking! This girl needs to get out of me. Two weeks late! She's shyer than a blushing virgin!"

I laughed. "I guess she'll take after me. You were anything but."

Rory turned her magnificent dark eyes on me. She smiled. Her canines emerged. I felt a familiar thrill of being hunted.

"Did I mention how orgasms can induce labor?" she asked.

"Mommy! Look! Water!" Samantha yelled. "Watch me!"

We both looked. Samantha had her mother's raven hair, just shorter and curlier. She ran through the spray, jumping, arms waving, and turned to see if her mother had seen, her pale blue eyes sparkling. Rory smiled at her. Samantha grinned, impish and adorable.

"Amazing! Do it again, honey."

"Kay!"

To me, in a lower voice, she said, "These hormones have me so horny those zucchinis for dinner looked tempting. Tonight, buster! You're servicing me!"

She laughed, then winced, rubbing her stomach. "Stop kicking my kidney, child! Help me up, Ethan! I need to pee again."

I did, telling her, "You look beautiful, Rory. Pregnancy makes you glow." It did, too. She was utterly glorious.

The frown retuned. "Don't try it! This is it! Two's enough. You can forget that flattering stuff. It ain't gonna work."

I gave her butt a pinch as she walked away. She yelped, swatted at my hand and stopped suddenly. "Darn-it, Ethan!" she exclaimed. "You just made me pee my panties, you idiot!"

When she saw the look in my eyes, she laughed loudly, flecks of tarnished gold dancing in her eyes. "You never change."

"Never will," I countered with a smile.

Rory's eyes softened. She turned, pressed her pregnant stomach against me and kissed me. Her warm, soft lips brushed mine, lingered, and pressed. She murmured pleasure, ended the kiss, cupped my jaw and, with a soft smile, said, "I still love you Ethan Grant."

"Daddy! Come play!" Samantha yelled.

With a peck on Rory's lips, I went to play. How good could life get?