Into the Garden Ch. 10-12

Sam knew he wasn't the longest guy, but he also knew he was thick enough to fill her in a way that kept her highly satisfied, and from the moans and thrusts coming from beneath him, she seemed more satisfied than usual. Grabbing a pillow from the sofa, he put it under her hips, positioning her so he would hit her g-spot. From the first stroke, she gasped with pleasure as the tip of his cock found that most sensitive spot inside her. "What is that?" she almost shrieked.

"That's your g-spot. Feels good, no?"

"Oh baby, how did you learn how to do THAT?" she gasped. "Scratch that. Just keep doing it until it until I come." Their lovemaking had been hot before, but this took her to a whole new level. She scratched his back, bit his shoulders, leaving marks in both places, and practically levitated her ass off the floor trying to get him deep inside her, hard against that spot that made her ache in such a delightful fashion.

After a few minutes, she pulled off, dripping with sweat. "Don't want to come yet," she said, panting. She swung her body around and he found himself in their first 69. She sucked his cock, gulping him greedily into her mouth while he tried to retain enough focus to tongue her clit. Her mouth plunged up and down on his shaft, never stopping for the gentle licks and kisses he had grown to love...not that he was complaining. But still, he wanted her to come on his cock. He loved the feel of her muscles gripping him like a passionate hug. He just had to make sure he pulled out in time.

"Let me fuck you, Lindy. Let me fuck you now," he begged. Lindy obliged, rolling back onto her back and making sure the pillow was under her ass. In just a dozen thrusts, she was coming, biting hard on his collarbone to hold back her screams. Sam held still until she finished contracting, then pulled out, and with a single rub of his penis against the soft skin of her stomach, came on her belly. As if in a trance, Belinda lowered her fingers, scooping up his jizz and placing her spunk-covered fingers in her mouth, licking them as she stared into space.

CHAPTER 12

Even with quite a few rounds of high-stakes Russian roulette of the sexual variety, Belinda still got her period a little over two weeks later, as July approached its midpoint. She had managed to finish the kitchen faucets, with only a minimum of stomping and throwing things and, she was proud to say, only one phone call to a plumber. That left only the upholstery to do. In the meantime, she had managed to make good progress on all but her statistics class and had put in plan her motion for the fall.

She explained to her father that although she had loved her time in the Pi Phi house and planned to continue her affiliation with the sorority, she realized that with the 12 credits she would earn that summer, she could take just one extra class—18 credit hours—and graduate in December. But to do that she needed the peace and quiet of her own off-campus apartment. Her father was willing as long as she could still remain an active member of the sorority—this was necessary for Susannah's buy-in—which would require paying her chapter dues and which John was happy to do.

She knew that part of the price was also not letting anyone find out about Sam until she graduated and became an alumna. The last part killed her; she was tired of all the sneaking around. After a little more thinking, she came up with a plan for that too, at least for a weekend.

Sam had another talk scheduled at a church about an hour away for a Saturday in late July. After the positive response to his talk at the Sims' church, he had gotten more requests and he had spent time putting together as many programs as he could manage while still holding down his job and not neglecting Belinda. Belinda put her plan into action. Her father's real estate contacts in the college town that housed State had found Belinda a furnished executive apartment a few miles from campus. It was more money than she had hoped he would spend, but he insisted. Telling her parents that she wanted to drive the three hours to school to see the apartment, visit a sorority sister who was still in town for the summer, and browse at some of the better shops that always existed in towns with lots of academics for the perfect chair fabric (she had found an ideal chocolate brown suede at the local upholsterer, but she needed a story her mom would accept), she planned a trip that would have her out of town for a little under a week, from Wednesday to Tuesday, picking dates that overlapped Sam's trip. It would be easy for them to get a room in a small tourist town almost exactly between her home and school and just 30 minutes from where Sam would be speaking. Her credit card bills would show her at college, but two nights and mornings would be spent alone with Sam. When she dropped by the worksite to tell him what she worked out, he gaped at her. "Girl," he finally said, "if you ever run around on me, I won't stand a chance of catching you."

In an instant she was in front of him, her eyes fiery and her voice hard as nails. "Don't you EVER say something like that about me!" And with that, she turned and raced up the hill. Belinda wasn't one to cry in public, and she didn't want him to see how much his innocent joke had cut her. She stood in the formal gardens, blocked by high hedges, her shoulders shaking silently as the tears rolled down her face.

Sam found her there, "It was just a joke, just a stupid joke. I know you would never do anything like that. I'm so sorry," he said. He had never seen Belinda cry, and the thought that it was his fault was gutwrenching. "I'm so sorry," he said again to her retreating back.

It took a few days for her to get over it. Belinda could swallow a lot of anger and hurt and keep her cool. With her mother's snide remarks, made worse by drink, and her brother's insufferable boorishness, which had come into full flower just as Belinda went through her awkward phase who made an easy target, she had learned how to take an insult or a cutting remark with a smile. She couldn't even explain to herself why she was so upset, but the idea of Sam thinking badly of her cut like a knife. "Samantha" sent her friendly texts and delivery men brought bouquets of flowers and boxes of Belinda's favorite chocolates (she had finally told Sam of her first impression of him and what it evoked for her) from her "secret admirer." (Susannah was aflutter with hopes it was one of the "best boys in town.")

It took a few days, but with a week to go until their romantic meeting, she came around. They went back to meeting in the studio when they could. Although Belinda thought the perimeter alarm was overkill, Sam still set it every time. The Monday before she was due to leave, it was tripped for the first time when they were alone in the cabin. If their visitor had stopped by 30 minutes earlier and managed to evade the sensors, he would have walked in on Sam flat on his back, his tongue deep in Belinda's cunt while his finger massaged her tight, hot clit. She was mewing, as Sam had figured out she did when she was particularly aroused but couldn't find her way to the release of an orgasm. He began rubbing her ass cheeks with his free hand, then swirled a finger around the opening to her vagina, getting it wet with her juices. Gently, carefully gauging her reaction, he ran his finger up and down against the tight opening to her ass. She moaned, a good sign. He removed his finger, and she went back to mewing with frustration. He resumed rubbing the tiny rosebud of her asshole and heard to her moan in satisfaction. He moved his tongue to her clit but still kept fingering her asshole, rubbing and then applying gentle pressure to the opening. She pressed back against him and he slid his middle finger up to the second knuckle into her ass. She gasped but didn't say no. Instead, she began rocking back and forth, riding first onto his tongue and then back onto his finger. Her moans became louder, and she buried her mouth in her arm to keep them from being audible outside the cabin. She came then, her ass muscles spasming around Sam's finger. She rolled off, her chest heaving, but Sam wanted to see if he could push a little further. He wouldn't go for everything he had dreamed of doing to her ass, not without talking to her first, but he knew she usually came multiple times, and he thought he could make that happen.

He propped her up on her knees, her head down on a pillow and said, "Just let me try something. If you don't like it, I'll stop." She was silent. Sam reached around and softly rubbed her clit, which he knew would now be engorged with blood and ultra-sensitive. After a few moments, he nuzzled his face between her ass cheeks, those perfect ass cheeks he had stared at and fantasized about all summer, and began to lick her asshole. She tasted more delectable than he could have imagined, the juices of her cunt mixing with the funk of her ass. Although he wanted nothing more than to plunge his tongue where his middle finger had just been, he held back. He didn't want to rush her into saying no. He rubbed her clit faster and harder now as her breath became more rapid and he heard her moaning into the pillow. Her muscles tightened and she came in in another rippling orgasm, this one bigger than the first and lasting for minutes. When it was done, she rolled over and looked into her lover's eyes.

"How could something dirty feel so good?" she asked.

"It's not dirty to me, Lindy. I'm in love with you, and that means loving every part of your body. I loved doing that and I hope you'll let me do it again." Belinda answered that she was open to trying some things, but that she had heard stories about full anal sex from some of her more adventurous sorority sisters—who knew Belinda well enough to know she could keep a secret—to be certain it wasn't for her. Sam said he understood, but he had a few more techniques for her backside that could bring her pleasure.

Thirty minutes later when the perimeter alarm did sound, they were cleaned up and dressed. The sheet was put away in the little footstool chest under Belinda's shoes and she was studiously scratching away at a statistics problem on a yellow legal pad while Sam read a history book he had found in Belinda's bag—an analysis of the impact of the Marshall Plan in post-World War II Europe. It was right up his alley. Although they knew someone was coming, they kept their heads down until the door squeaked. "Oh, hi, Daddy. Sam wasn't much use with the kitchen plumbing, but it turns out he's got a real head for advanced statistics, the last class I have to pass this summer. He's tutoring me."

"That's great, honey, but why is he holding a book about World War II," John asked, glancing at the cover of the book Sam had lain on the desk.

"Well, I never said he was a good tutor. My girlfriends at school hire tutors. They just bat their eyelashes at them and the guy does all their homework. This one," she said, gesturing with a thumb at Sam, "waits until I'm 15 steps into a problem and tells me I made a mistake in step 2."

"Maybe you aren't paying him enough," John joked. "I'll put something extra in your paycheck, Sam."

"That's not it at all, sir," Sam said. "You can get a C with faked homework and some good luck on a few multiple choice exams. But Belinda wants an A and the only way to get that is to learn how to do the work herself."

"He makes a good point, honey. Plus, you've never been a shirker."

"I know Daddy, I've just never had a class that made me feel this incompetent. I'd rather replace every faucet in the whole house." (With the size of the Sutter's mansion, that was saying something.)

"Well, stick with it," her father said, "you always figure it out in the end."

After John had left, Belinda allowed herself a joke, "You figured out what to do with my end. Now at least give me a hint." Sam laughed and had her read the whole problem aloud to him. Looking again at her second step, she saw exactly where she had gone wrong.

A few minutes later, John returned. He had forgotten his beer on the edge of the desk. The pair was still hard at work, and John found himself thinking what a nice young man Sam was, and how lucky he had been to find him. The water garden was coming along great; he had done dozens of extra projects at a very reasonable rate; and now he was helping his daughter with school. He congratulated himself on the hire.