Amica - Told Backward

I'm going to start with the latest and work my way back to the first time I fucked Amica. So that means that, though this is the first of the stories, it's really part five of the overall tale.

Amica is the wife of the town minister, but theirs is anything but a match made in heaven. He is a dour faced, stiff lipped, socially inept, bible thumper who thinks the world is Satan's playground and the human body is the devil's invention. But then, if Beelzebub really did sit down to create a devilishly tempting piece of pulchritudinous female flesh, well, Amica is it. She has the kind of body that, in horse racing, has what they call "conformation." That is, she was built to ride hard. Not only does she have a thoroughbred's stature, she also has a kind of glow about her. She is 400 watts of pure blonde life energy, and has a bright hot love light I can turned on with just a flick...of my finger, or tongue, or whatever.

But the single most amazingly sexy thing about Amica is her voice. It's in a higher register than most, making her sound even more innocent, more angelic, more tempting. With its surprisingly high pitch and that little touch of breathiness with just a bit of whisper to it, she could make the Lord's prayer sound like an invitation to a wild night of sexual deviancy.

Her upbringing was strict, repressed, her father was himself a minister. So she had very little experience, even at the age of twenty five years old. Her husband was chosen for her by her father. Frank, of course, kept her as confined as her parents had, trying desperately to keep her sheltered from the evil ways of the world. But her frumpy clothes and a forced kind of shyness couldn't hide the fact that Ami's body is as wicked a set of curves as any man ever crashed and burned on. On top of that, literally, she has the face of an angel, sweet and innocent and radiant. Despite her puritanical childhood and marriage, Amica is soft, easy, relaxed and fun at heart. I guess I see her as the perfect girl next door, the sweet young thing who has grown up and filled out to perfection. And, in fact, she is just that to me. The girl next door. Our homes shared a fence line, with both our houses sitting on an acre or so of the county's back country, a tract of sparsely forested land outside our small town.

I work in the nearest big city, as does my wife, and each of us have an almost two hour commute one way. Patty works nine to five, while I'm a construction planner and have odd hours that seem to leave me home alone a lot.

Anyway, moving the story along, Amica and I have had four "moments" over the summer. The fifth was last night. It happened while her husband was away at Bible camp and my wife was visiting her sister.

Now, it had been weeks since our last tussle and I wasn't expecting another soon. I'd gone to bed and was reading when the quiet country night was interrupted by a soft rapping on my bedroom window. It was Ami. She smiled up at me from the flower bed in our darkened backyard, then tilted her head toward the back porch.

I calmed down the dogs and opened the door to let her in. As I began to ask if everything was alright she put a finger to my lips then back to her own lips to tell me to shush. She was carrying a gym bag stuffed with something.

What happened next took place in near total silence. Ami signaled me over to a table in the laundry room and motioned me to stand beside her as she opened the bag. She smelled wonderful. She was wearing a white t-shirt that accentuated the swell of her breasts and a pair of pink shorts to show off her legs. I was getting short of breath just standing next to her.

From inside the bag she pulled out a notepad with "Spouses out of town, so..." written on it. Then she pulled out a string of pearls. This she handed to me and then spun around and lifted her hair to allow me to place it around her neck and latch it closed. As I did she leaned back into my body and sort of purred when she felt my cock saddle in between her ass cheeks. It was all I could do to keep myself from throwing her over the table and going into the beast mode on her.

Instead I was taken by the hand as she led me, bag in hand, back into the bedroom. Once there, she proceeded to turn off my reading light and from the bag took out about a dozen candles. These she placed around the room in various places, then she handed me a lighter. As I lit the candles she began to pull the covers off the bed, followed by the sheets. From her bag she lifted out what looked like, and was, a large sheet of black plastic. It rustled as she worked it over the bed, tucking in the sides, top and bottom until the entire bed was covered.

She next sidled up to me and motioned me to begin removing her clothes. I took my time - shirt pulled over her blonde tresses, shorts down her satiny legs, bra unhooked and lovingly removed from her full, proud breasts and finally, panties slid down to reveal her blonde bush and bubble buttcheeks. She twirled around once and stood before me in nothing but a pearl necklace. My word, how could a man be this lucky in one lifetime. I quickly doffed my own bedtime duds. Ami reached in the bag and brought out a bottle, a squeezable plastic bottle. She took this with her to the bed and knelt in the middle. Then she opened the lid and began pouring its contents over her breasts, her belly, her legs and arms. It was a body oil, fragrant, flowery smelling, and Ami was soon covered in it. The oil caught the candlelight and turned her tanned skin gold. She crooked a finger at me with a devilish smile and patted a spot next to her. I was soon slathered with oil as well.

What followed was a wrestling match. She literally tackled me and threw her weight upon my torso, pinning me to the bed. I arched my back, lifted myself and her up and spun around to switch positions, ending up with my pelvis between her legs and my now hard cock nudging in next to her oily bush. But she was having none of it. She squirmed around beneath me and managed to wiggle out of my hold, got up behind me and was riding my back, arms locked around me neck, legs wrapped around mine. But being so slippery, neither one of us could hold a position long and soon our entire bodies and the bed were covered in oil.

It took some effort, she fought like a hellcat, but I finally got her arms locked above her head and worked my legs between hers. She continued to struggle and avoided my cock for another few minutes. But I eventually wore her down. Panting, twitching, rolling, still fighting it, she had to give in and groaned as my cock slid up into her soaking wet and well oiled pussy with ease. I let her arms go. Mistake. She immediately began to pummel my head, so I grabbed her wrists again and held her as tightly as I could.

Her eyes were glaring at me, fierce and determined. I realized that this was something more than just play. It seems she was not only fucking me, she was fighting me, or perhaps she was somehow acting out the battle of the sexes, making this a contest that I'd have to win, sex as a wrestling match, maybe playing out the endless struggle for sexual dominance between genders. I slammed my cock into her again, hard this time and we both grunted. In response, she bent her head up and bit my nipple, not hard, but she bit it.

Our oil covered limbs slid off and against each other, and it was taking some effort to fuck this woman. But fuck her I did. She tried again and again to wiggle out from beneath me but I was equally determined and after several more pounding thrusts she began to respond, seemingly despite herself. She grit her teeth and fought it, but was beginning to really pant hard. It was like she was angry that I was making her so wet and horny. I let her hands go and quickly, before she could react, I pulled her legs up over my shoulders and pinned her, doubled over, to the bed with my weight holding her down as I plunged with renewed fury into her now sopping wet cunt, pistoning fast, hard and steady.

Just when I thought I had her on the verge of cumming she somehow rolled out from beneath me and I ended up humping her backside. Now I was mad. As she attempted to slither away, I grabbed her hair and threw my weight on her back. I reached under her and lifted her pelvis to allow me to slide my dick back inside her. This is how we rode our way to that first explosive orgasm. Me holding her hair, slamming my rod into her sloppy cunt, she with her legs spread, butt up and chest pushed down onto the bed, head arched back, wriggling like a worm beneath me. She screamed like a woman possessed as her orgasm ripped through her, as much anger as lust, collapsing into a quivering mass of sweaty, oily flesh, her entire body wracked by uncontrolled spasms. I shot hot bullets of cum, shot my insides, my heart, my soul, thirty eight years of life and frustration and anger and love and passion as deep into her recesses as I could. It was a wild orgasm, a virtual supernova, one minute we were fucking the next we erupted and burst into intense light and pure energy, splattering and scattering our very elements into the universe.

We didn't stop. As she began to come around she immediately began pushing her still convulsing pussy back at my cock, weakly but with no doubt, daring me to continue, insisting that she wasn't yet conquered. I lifted my weary torso and renewed humping into her almost lifeless form, my balls slapping her ass, my cock still spewing a few last drops. Ami, still not quite conscious, began to grunt softly in time to my thrusts and she arched her ass up to meet my every fucking stroke. This was a slow, gritty, grinding, guttural grudge fuck, the sweat and drool dripping off me onto her back, each of us trying to outlast and outfuck the other. When she came this time it was with a long, low moan, her fingers between her legs stroking both of us, her pussy gushing and making obscene sloshing noises, body as loose and limp as a wet rag, and it went on and on and on as though she couldn't stop, a protracted, steamy hot, sodden, saturated, nasty cum, the juices of which I could feel surging down my cock all over my balls and gushing onto both our thighs. Finally my arms gave out. I collapsed on top of her and she grunted. I lay there sucking oxygen, bathing in the afterglow of what was nothing less than perfectly mindless, blissfully uncomplicated, unruly, unrestrained and unbelievably wild, pure sex.

She couldn't move. But she did manage to speak. "Eat me, you bastard," she said in that high, breathless, sweet, sexy, voice of hers.

It was a long, nasty night.

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The fourth time with Amica was a gift from her husband of all things. They'd bought a new truck, their first car together, and it had a manual transmission.

"Would you", he asked me one day with an exasperated sigh, "teach Amica to drive a stickshift?" He'd gotten very frustrated trying to do so himself. His efforts ended up with her in tears and him in a rage.

"I'll pay you."

I assured Frank it was not necessary to pay me. I'd do it as a good neighbor. Of course, Ami and I had fucked three times so far that summer and I'd have done anything for another go round. But then, she'd pretty much told me she was feeling really guilty and we'd have to discontinue the affair. If that's what you'd call it. We'd actually just sort of stumbled into each other a few times. Nothing was ever planned. Hell, I didn't really want to corrupt her. Not much, anyway. But I found it very hard to ignore all that...untapped sexualness, though. Very hard.

As we drove away in the new truck, she laid out the ground rules right from the start. No touching. Which meant, of course, definitely no fondling, groping, stroking, squeezing kissing, licking, etc. I was to keep my hands, and she her hands, to our respective selves and just concentrate on the driving part.

Ok. So I drove over to the old lumber mill with its huge, deserted parking lot. She was wearing a long, long dress, well down over her knees, a white, short sleeved shirt with a very prim sweater over, and a big red bow tie, no less. Her hair was in a tight ponytail. She wore a minimum of makeup and no scent.

I began the lesson by showing Ami how to push in the clutch then move the gear shift lever to first, and gently let out the clutch while applying a little gas. Then we switched seats and she tried.

No way. She was hopelessly confused. The car died. It lurched. The tires chirped. The engine raced. The clutched burned. We tried a second time. Even worse. So it went.

"Alright, let's try again," I said for the fifteenth time. She was getting mad. Her ponytail was coming undone around her face, she was sweating and her dress was riding up to her knees.

"Think of one, two, three," I said. "One, push in the clutch, two, shift into first, three, let out the clutch and push down on the gas."

"That's four, John. That's one, two, three, four. Not three." She blew a stray strand of blond hair from her eyes.

"Well, sure, but the last two happen at the same time, so..."

"So nothing, John. I'm no good at this. It's hopeless. I'm hopeless. I can't do it."

I thought about it a moment. "Listen," I said, "you want to learn the way I learned? The way my grandfather taught me to drive the tractor when I was nine? I guarantee you'll get the hang of it."

"I'll do anything, try anything, or I'm going to just walk home and take the bus everywhere from now on. Who invented this stupid kind of driving anyway?"

"Ok, Ami, let's try this. Let me get in the driver's seat. Stand next to me a moment."

She got out and stood by the car with her arms crossed, frustrated and fuming. I sat in the driver's seat, pushed it back a notch or two and turned to her.

"Now you have to sit in my lap."

She was a little startled by that. "Sit in your lap? You want me to sit in your lap?"

"Yes. You put your feet on mine and feel how I do the clutch and accelerator."

She hesitated, then said, "I...well...I...um...alright, okay. But, but, no, no...hanky panky or any of that."

I chuckled. "None," I assured her, "no hank, no pank. A perfect gentleman." And I honestly meant it. Honest.

She stepped over and gradually lowered her ass into my lap. Damn. She smelled wonderful, her hair, her sweat - I tried to put it out of my mind. Drive, man, drive.

She put her feet over mine and I went through the motions, slowly. But her ponytail was sticking in my face. She undid it. I tried not to nuzzle her neck, though I was breathing kind of warmly right on that sensitive part in the back. And I didn't know where to put my hands.

"You steer with one hand," I instructed her, "And when I push in the clutch you put it in gear. Ready? Let's go!" And off we went.

It went pretty well. We got into third gear cruising around the big asphalt lot and Amica was loving it. We downshifted, came to a stop, started up again and were well into third gear when she hit the brakes. Umph! We both slumped forward in the seat.

"Oh sorry! Sorry!" she squealed. "Sorry, I hit the brake too hard. Sorry."

My face was nuzzling her neck, my hands were between her thighs. As we both readjusted our seating, her ass wiggled all over my lap, creating a lot of...friction...down there.

"Um, Ami..." I began to explain my growing predicament, but she interrupted me.

"Let's get going again, John. I think I'm getting it."

I was getting something too, a big, hard, throbbing, demanding something. I reached down to move my erection to a more comfortable upright postion, then we shifted into first and started up again. In second gear Ami squealed with delight.

"Ooooh, weeee! I'm driving! I'm getting it, John!" We hit a series of bumps and her butt began bumping on my lap. The pressure down there was starting to get painful. I had to do something. With some effort I managed to undo my belt, open my fly and let the beast out of its tight wrapping. Then she hit the brake again.

After another set of apologies we wiggled back into position, but now my pants were well down below my butt. She was sitting on my boxers. Worse, her dress had ridden up her thighs. Now when I put my hands on those soft fleshy parts of her leg, my fingers were just inches from heaven.

We started up and she steered us over the bumps again. Man that was starting to feel really good. Her dress was now way up her legs. She squirmed and wriggled with every turn we made until my cock was sticking right out of my boxer fronts and nestled right up against her panty covered pussy. Which was wet. I gave up being a gentleman. I reached around and pulled her panty crotch aside. It was just a matter of a few more bumps and wiggles before my pole slid deep up inside her very wet, very warm, glove tight, palpitating, puritan pussy.

The whole time she prattled on, innocently. "John, this is so much fun, driving like this. I feel like I'm ready to race Dale Earnhardt. I feel so proud of myself. I'm mobile, John, I'm a modern, mobile woman driving a car, John, now there's nothing I can't do..." and on and on.

But she kept driving over the bumps. Up and down, bumpity humpity umpity lump, up and down, in and out, I couldn't concentrate anymore, just sort of breath hard on her neck and hope we hit more bumps. She kept it in second and just drove, around again and again, over the same bumps. She began to slur her words, but kept up her innocent patter even as she began to breath deeply. I pushed my hands up her shirt and fondled those firm breasts and the stiff nubbins of her nipples. I ended up gently pulling them free from the cups of her bra.

"I'll drive...uh, uh, uh...to the store for groceries," she sighed. "I'll...ooooh...go see my sister. Then, um, um, um, I'll drive to Sunday school. Mmmmm," pant, pant, groan, groan, "I never knew it could feel so...liberating...to drive. I feel so...oh my, oh my...so free...so...free...so...oooooh..."

We both came at that moment. I mauled her breasts and kissed the back of her neck and thrust my hips upward as my cock spewed forth from the depths of my loins and her cunt bubbled and frothed and she let out a series of tight chirps while her legs convulsed.

She suddenly screamed and jammed on the brakes. I guess I'd floored the accelerator and we'd been speeding toward a fence. Once again we ended up jammed against the steering wheel, but now we were conjoined at the crotch. I could feel her vaginal muscles contracting around my cock, milking it. We sat there a few moments and then I slowly began lifting her up by the thighs and dropping her back down on my still hard rod. She began to hump up and down and all the sloppy juices of our cum made it a wet, sloshing, noisy, slow, grinding fuck.

"This is so bad," she whispered, her light, smooth, velvety voice adding so much to the effect of it all, "so bad. Your fucking my innocent wet little pussy with your big hard man's penis and making me cream cum all over the front seat of our new truck, you bad, wicked fuck boy, fuck man, fucking me, a married woman, your cock up inside me, making me wet and horny and making me cum again and again. Finger my button, John, stroke my pussy and make me drip cum over your balls, John, make me dream of you at night. I picture you fucking me like this as I finger my bad little pussy in the morning." She went on for another five minutes or so, a lewd stream of consciousness rant which brought her off several times and launched my rocket into deep space.

And that was number four.

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Number three was a few months after they moved next door.

I'm a construction estimator by trade and have spent years in the trade. Frank had come to me to ask my help moving a house he'd inherited from his parents. It was the kind of project that was definitely in my skill set and a good neighborly thing to do too, so I began to organize the various elements of the job.