Bud Wilson Lands A-list Linda Ch. 01

ONE

Queen of River City's spring carnival in 1998, Linda Stevens was one of the cutest babes to have been born at the River City Maternity Hospital.

Linda's father was handsome and cool; the city's youngest-ever chief of orthopaedic surgery at the Walter Regan Memorial Hospital. Linda's mother, Mandy-Jane, owned and operated a network of seven hairdressing salons throughout the county.

It had been assumed by everyone, including Joel and Mandy-Jane, that they would conceive a daughter with outstanding attributes, and happily everyone (family and friends) were not disappointed.

Now, at the aged of twenty-seven, seven years after winning her 'crown', Linda was returning home after a four-year working holiday through Europe, gaining experience in hotel reception management.

The Europeans had adored her classical Americana pedigree of a slim physique, blue eyes, long blonde hair and an engaging personality. It was that same combination that blew away her opposition in the 1998 home city beauty/personality contest that, for the judges, turned into a one-horse contest by the time they had completed the first-round of judging.

Many mothers throughout River City fanaticised about the possibility of their son miraculously taking Linda as his wife, or just taking her, as that would be socially advantageous for the family.

In the week leading up to Linda's return, the more committed mothers pressured their sons to get a hair-cut – some even insisting on a manicure – and endowing them generously with expensive new clothes.

Linda's arrival was supposed to be an unheraled family event, but a newspaper reporter, Bud Wilson, callously leaked the imminent homecoming.

Bud's mother wasn't aware of the arrival until reading Bud's story under an old photo of Linda. It made no difference anyway; she never would have assumed that her son would get within a bull's roar of the queenly Linda. Her assumption was that her son was eventually marry some slut from the newspaper – they were plenty of them.

Ten days after Linda's triumphant return home, reported ad nauseam in the women's pages of the 'River City Messenger', Bud was having lunch alone in the River City Café. Linda came up and greeted him warmly; they'd spent much of their early children and teenage years together.

"May I sit with you to have my lunch?" Linda asked, expecting the usual thrilled response.

"Oh, if you wish," replied Bud, looking around at the numerous empty tables.

"Thank you, then I shall go and collect my plate," she said, about to sit down.

Bud smiled at her, and carried on eating. This was no big deal. Pigtails Stevens may have won the Queen of River City contest and gone to Europe and made quite an impact, but remove all the hype and she was still Miss Ex-Pigtails Stevens.

Bud had observed that the pigtails had gone, the thin lips were now full and stunningly inviting, she'd changed from being intent on being the class egghead into a woman of slight mystery. Oh, one other thing: her flat chest was now looking rather interesting.

"Glad to learn that you've had some really big years in Europe," he said, as Linda arrived back at the table carrying her own plate of food, something she'd not done for a very long time.

"And you've achieved what, Bud?"

"Oh, I've done a bit of this and that."

Linda struggled to try to keep communication going. Bud was so laid back that it almost seemed they were in different locations.

After a painful hour of trying to establish common ground, and basically failing, Linda left after thanking Bud for his company, kissing him on the forehead.

"Only my mother kisses my there," he said, indicating she'd transgressed.

Fuck you sweetie, thought the new darling of the social scene. I'm off to events you've never experienced and associating with people who'd never give you the time of day.

Two minutes later Linda was prickling with remorse. She needed to make peace within herself to avoid a possible outbreak of hives.

"I'm a bitch, Bud. I apologise for mangling you with unjustified slurs. I am sorry. I remember the days when you were a real buddy to me and helped my through the times when male predators were closing in."

That mind cleansing delivered aloud made her feel very much better.

Linda entered a round of social engagements that left her almost exhausted. The price of being popular was beginning to tell.

On Thursday in make-up before appearing on live TV with fifteen minutes to go, Linda received a phone call from Bud of all people.

"I'm going up to the cabin on Saturday, I would love you to accompany me."

The invitation was interesting, very tempting in fact, but it had to be rejected.

"I'm sorry Bud, but I have a full schedule on Saturday. Some other time, perhaps."

"Okay," and the call terminated.

Ten minutes later, with her mind careering around like a rioting crowd, Linda picked up her phone and called the number showing as Bud's incoming call.

"The lake Saturday sounds fine, I'll reschedule my diary."

"Will you stay the night? There are separate rooms. I ought to be able to find you a key."

"Yes."

"That's a mighty short response for Miss Personality."

"I'm tired, Bud. I would like to join you for a completely relaxing weekend."

"No problem, babe. I'll pick you up at your parent's house at seven on Saturday morning.

"Seven?"

"Seven."

"All right, Bud. You are the host."

The front door of the Stevens mansion opened before Bud could push the bell button, and Mandy-Jane wearing a poorly composed smile greeted him as Buddy, the name he hated. But licked his lips, eying the pushed out front under a nightdress and gown. Man, was that something.

"Buddy?"

"Sorry, Mrs Stevens. I was thinking of something."

"I said, we don't really approve of Linda going away with you alone."

"Your approval is not required – your daughter is twenty-seven."

"I am aware of the age of my daughter Buddy," was the chilly response. "Well, take care of her and please leave her reputation intact."

Bud refrained from giving a smart-ass response to that unnecessary remark; no one but he and the Stevens knew about this jaunt into the mountains so how could Lindy's reputation be harmed?

"Be home before dark tonight," instructed Mandy-Jane, attempting to stare down Bud. He didn't notice this battle of wills because it was one-sided; he was thinking that Linda had not lost her smart-ass quality she had as a young girl. Obviously she'd not told her mother they were staying on the mountain overnight.

If Mandy-Jane returning to the door with her daughter was expecting to feel disgusted when the old friends kissed, she was disappointed. They were ever so casual.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"We're off, mother."

And they were gone.

Mandy-Jane sniffed when noting that Linda had to open her own door and stuff her big carry bag into the back of the cheap two-door vehicle, but at least it appeared to be four-wheel drive. The size of the carry bag failed to register, otherwise she may have suspected it was an over-night bag.

"Was mother her usual defensive self at the door?"

"Yeah, but what's with the big chest?"

"She had corrective surgery, twice I believe."

"Daddy must be thrilled," grinned Bud.

"He was the instigator but mother absolutely adores her new self. Wait until in a few year they are hanging around her waist."

"Do implants do that?"

"I really don't know. Can we talk about something else?"

"Yeah, I threw in a bottle of vodka hoping you still drink it."

"Oh Bud, that's lovely. Yes, it's my only drink apart from wine. Remember those session we had as young teenagers?"

They laughed and glanced at each other warmly as the stories were retold.

TWO

Pete's cabin looked unchanged since they last visited it together with a group of friends as sixteen year olds, staying almost a week.

The cabin had been built by Peter Wilson, Bud's deceased grandfather.

"Fancy, it's eleven years since I was inside this cabin and it looks untouched."

"It is, Lindy – mum and dad and Meg whose pregnant now, married to a really nice guy, regard it as a place to sleep and eat so just like me that see no reason to change anything for the sake of changing. Just the basics are good enough up here."

"You are the only person who calls me Lindy," said Linda softly.

Bud glanced at her and shrugged. "Come on, you take mum's room and I go in the kid's room. There are no keys; I just made that up. Get changed and we'll go to Mason's Peak for lunch, unless there's somewhere else you'd rather go."

"No, that's fine," said Linda, still undecided. Her mother, angry that Bud had published news of Linda's imminent homecoming, called him a jerk. Was he?

Changing into shorts, shirt, long socks and putting on her old tramping boots she'd oiled a couple of nights earlier, Linda entered the main cabin and stuffed a jacket and towel into her small backpack.

Bud, who'd come already dressed for tramping, entered carrying his pack he'd fetched from the vehicle. He stopped mid-track and whistled, looking at Linda in admiration.

Surprised that anyone would react to her in relatively shapeless tramping clothes, Linda blushed, thinking it had been a long time since she'd had blushed, a very long time.

"Come on you stupid mutt, let's get cracking." It felt good trying to talk as she did in the old days.

As they walked Bud pointed out trees, plants and birds, identifying them by name. Linda would have struggled to remember the names of many of them.

She enjoyed revisiting her past and soon was convinced that Bud was not a jerk.

When they came to High Point Fork and Bud had turned right to take the climb to Mason's Creek she called, "Change of mind, woman's prerogative. Let's go to Moss Lake."

All those years ago, the eight sixteen year-olds with Mrs Streeter as chaperone in the packed cabin at nights, had gone every day to Moss Lake to swim. Although that was in midsummer, the water had been chilly as the small lake was ringed by tall trees, with moss covering the ground and hanging from the trees – a really eerie atmosphere.

The teasing boys often had the four girls really screaming in fear. 'The faceless hooded man in black, carrying a short curved blade is coming, but you won't hear him because of the moss. Arrrrrrah!'

Linda hunched up and shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"No, was just thinking of Freddie Bellamy's story at the lake about the creepy man with the sickle. He had us almost wetting ourselves."

"Yeah, old Freddie. He comes home occasionally; he's big cheese in the Air Force. Those were the days, weren't they, Lindy?"

Linda felt like taking his hand.

"Yes, Bud. You and Thelma Walsh were very close."

"Thelma Walsh? You were my girlfriend."

"Oh, was I?" smiled Linda slyly, walking ahead of Bud. "You talked a lot to Thelma on that holiday."

"Yes, and to Betsy, Maria and you – especially you."

"Really?"

"Yes, and stop trying to worm compliments out of me."

They lay in a moss glade at the lake, chatting quietly, pausing at times to hear the birds and the sigh of the breeze moving through the trees beside them. They'd taken off their boots and socks and Bud had removed his shirt.

"Let's go for a swim," said Linda jumping up and beginning to remove her shirt.

Bud turned away and said she was mad; the water would be freezing this far into autumn.

Linda scampered off and Bud turned back just in time to admire her shapely butt as she jumped in.

"Jesus!" she screamed, coming back out. "Get my towel from my pack."

She was beside Bud, teeth chattering, as he'd unbuckled her pack and was reaching for the towel.

"I'll do it," she said, taking the towel.

Bud turned away but had got an eyeful of beautifully upturned breasts, not large, and with a glimpse noticed she was not hairy down below: he'd been expecting to see blonde curls, but she was bald.

They washed their chicken salads down with sodas.

"Fresh fruit for you – you've got a body to look after, and apple pie for me," said Bud, looking disappointed that his big chunk of pie had not travelled well, being rather flattened. But when spooning some into his mouth he sighed contentedly.

"May I?" asked Linda, taking the plastic spoon and cutting off a piece for herself.

"Hmmmm!"

Linda cut off another piece and leaning over spooned it into Bud's mouth. She stayed in that position, looking at him closely with almost a shy smile.

Bud saw that the top buttons of her shirt were undone, allowing the shirt to gape open; she'd not put on her bra again and while she had freshened her lipstick, her hair was a mess. She looked lovely.

Radiance seemed to be emitting from her; Bud was sure she was waiting to be kissed but he hesitated, a little unsure. The moment was lost as she moved away and began packing up.

Four hours later they sat on ancient deckchairs outside the cabin, watching the colourful display of the setting set which was out of sight beyond the mountain tops.

"That was clever of you bringing ice in an insulated container."

"There is no substitute for ice when madam's favourite drink is vodka on the rocks."

"Quite. I'd forgotten just how relaxing the simple life is."

"Yeah, I can understand it. What lies ahead of you now?"

"I'm taking over running mother's business after a three-month training period."

"Is that what you want to do?"

"Yes and in time I plan to install a skin specialist in each parlour to give clients professional medical advice on skin problems and discuss options on cosmetic surgery."

"So, going beyond cut, colouring, styling and gluing nails. Parlour professionalism."

"You've got it."

"I suppose then it's marriage with a handsome bloke and the cute little boy and the darling little girl dressed in pink that your mother wants so desperately?"

"You're quite perceptive, Bud. So why didn't you kiss me up at the lake, I was telegraphing my desire."

"I know, natural born shyness in such things, I guess."

Linda stood up.

"Come on, it's getting dark. The bugs will be on to us in a minute."

While Linda cleared away, Bud closed the door and lit the lantern, deciding when the moment was right, he'd kiss Lindy.

He turned, she was standing right up close. Linda placed her arms around his neck and kissed him, slowly and really meaning it. Bud felt his penis harden and hoped that she remained unaware of his state.

Bud kissed her back and as Linda lifted his hand on to her breast assumed the dominant role, and she relaxed into his arms. He moved a knee between her legs and was gratified to feel her thighs tighten around the invading limb, slacken off and come at him again.

His erection was very stiff now and confidentially he turned slightly to allow her to feel it against her heating body. Rather than pretend it were not there, Linda pressed against it and moaned softly.

"I want you."

That rang Bud's bell. Roughly he picked her up and strode off to her bedroom, Linda now tonguing him deeply and emitting little moans with greater frequency.

Dropping her gently, glad that his parents had replaced the four bunks in this room with their old double bed, Bud stripped off as Linda undid her lower shirt buttons and opened it wide. Smiling, she looked at Bud's cock, licked her lips in exaggerated fashion and said, "What a beauty!"

Rarely had Bud felt so proud. He went on to his knees and pulled off her shorts and panties, receiving cooperation, then hungrily began dipping his tongue. This time he was giving tiny moans and grunts.

"Oh darling," she gasped, grabbing his hair above his ears as he added a finger to stoke her button.

It didn't take long. Bud sensed there was an increased flow around his tongue when she convulsed twice and went 'Aaaaaah' as if releasing a long pent-up present she'd been holding for him for many years.

"Do you want me to clean you up first?"

"No," she smiled. "Let's be messy."

The willingness of this lovely young woman, who always seemed so neat and tidy and so correct, to now indulge in unrestrained messiness with him excited Bud more, and his cock now was stretching its skin confinement.

"Oh my God, I've just got to lick that," giggled Linda, as he rose to his feet. Bud obliged, staying where he was, allowing his Lindy to sit up and begin to lick around the deep purple head.

Bud had assumed she'd be a great cock-licker, because Lindy had always been good at the things she did; he was not disappointed.

Gradually Linda got more and more of him into his mouth, and began moving her hands as well. Aware that his hands were on the way to her boobs, Linda lifted her elbows to clear access and mumbled something around his cock which remained unintelligible to Bud who now had a decision to make: blast down her mouth, pull out and splatter over her or withdraw early and fire a full maxi series into her channel.

The decision was taken from him. With an enormous groan, Linda slid her dribbling mouth off his rod and pulled herself up the bed.

"Come on, I need it inside me; my cunt is crying out for it."

Bud almost blew the whole load uselessly into the air. Christ, Lindy the slut! Fucking fantastic. Boy, did her love this lady!

"Here comes my big rig, honey, looking for that highway deviation you were just talking about. Grab those gorgeous ankles of yours and open w-i-d-e for your buddy Buddy.

She did and into the obvious deviation slid the wet big rig, expelling a little new wetness of its own.

Resting back spread-eagled, with her mouth unattractively flopped wide open, Linda watched Bud fascinated as he concentrated on getting himself set up. His tongue tip was clenched between his teeth, the veins on his neck stood out, and he looked down through narrowed eyes at where he was coupling. A faint smile circled his mouth.

Linda convulsed as the rig slipped in further and smiled contently, although the smile looked more like a grimace as her mouth remained helplessly wide open.

As his cock fully inserted, well almost, Linda got her mouth nearly closed and held out her arms. Bud sank into them, growling, "This is magic Lindy, I confess I've had hundreds and hundreds of dreams doing this."

"Have you sweetie?" replied Linda, hit by another little convulsion. She was flattered, fancy Bud thinking about her like that all these years – it must have been years to be generating 'hundreds and hundreds of dreams, presumably wet dreams. Dreamily she stroked around his ear thinking what it might have been.

Might have been? Her cobalt blues eyes flicked open. Neither of them had steady partners; perhaps they might decide to move in together. That was not what he mother had planned for Linda, but did that matter? She thought it didn't matter a tinker's cuss, wondering if she was quoting that saying correctly.

"Move that ass, baby!"

The command was loud and clear, the man was in control, so Linda slid her hands around his ass, gripping his cheeks, and did her best to match his push with shove and to ensure her grunting was a little more musical that his animalistic ones.

Bud's sweat dropped on to her face and she could feel her sweat running between her breasts and her butt cheeks felt very moist.

Her mother seemed to think that Bud was a bit of a loser – well, it was easy to tell she hadn't been fucked by him. Oh God, what am I thinking, thought Linda. She slipped a hand off her butt and as her finger reached her clit and barely touched it she bellowed "Aaaaaaaah, Aaaaaaaah, Oh Bud!"

Bud took a little longer but Linda was unworried. They would get in synch in time. So, there's going to be more days and nights of this? Yeah, she grinned, knowing something that Bud didn't yet know.

Linda stroked Bud in that sensitive area between his asshole and his balls, and immediately got that almost stretched feeling as his cock thickened and he began pumping, "Ugh, Ugh, Uuuuuuugh!" Her body tightened as her wide-open eyes rolled into their sockets momentarily.