Winning the Olympian Ch. 02

She spread her legs and assisted me by spreading her vulva. She had taught me how to go down on her. Hell, she had taught me how to fuck!

"Put two fingers in me, Jason, now!"

"Patience, patience," I said as I positioned my body so that it was comfortable on my elbows. My head and shoulders were the perfect distance from her cunt for cunilingus. I placed two left fingers inside her hot, sopping vagina. She had previously pointed out her G spot and I used my shorter index finger to tap that sensitive area and my middle finger to stroke her inside walls. Without even placing my face near her she began to move her pelvis forward and back. Getting closer, I slowly stimulated her outer labia as she had taught me to do this summer.

"Fffiiifff!" She sucked air suddenly inward at the first lick, then moaned, UUUNNNNNHHH, UUUUUNNNNHH.

"Jason, what do you want from my kingdom?" She whispered one of her magical fantasies.

"My crown? OHHH, GODDD!" She squirmed all directions

Then I really went down on her. My tongue brushed first her left than her right inner labia multiple times.

"JASON, WOOLY WORMS IN APPLES, OH MY GOD, JASON, I CAN BARELY STAND IT!!"

I paused to switch location of my tongue, aiming for her clitoris hood.

"DON'T YOU DARE STOP!"

"I'm not stopping-just switching. Believe me, this is as erotic to me as it is to you!"

Avoiding her clit for now, my tongue moved to the mouth of her hood and licked upward, like licking an ice cream cone. Her shaved, freshly bathed cunt and mons were neat and cleansed, smelling musky with hints of strawberry body wash. The aroma was sexually intoxicating. To my senses, she looked, smelled and felt unbelievably smooth like licking a bar of Swiss chocolate.

But to Tate, licking her hood like this was only her first gondola to the pinnacle. After three or four full swipes with my tongue, she screamed:

"JASON, OH MY GOD THIS FEELS SO GOOOOO... OH FUCKING BOULDERS, I'M CUUMMING, OH, FUCK, OH, FUCK, OH, FUCK, OH, FUCK," she screamed in rhythm to the orgasmic convulsions wracking her body. I pulled my head back knowing that she would be too sensitive for me to continue cunnilingus.

I had a front row seat to watch her perineal muscle squeeze and release, the ultimate center, the ultimate generator of her orgasm. Simultaneously, her vaginal orifice opened and closed uncontrollably, tightly clenching my fingers. It was SO HOT to watch, and my cock surged very hard.

After she was still, I unleashed my tongue on her hood again. At this point, she bucked her pelvis off the bed by at least a foot multiple times, screaming AHHH, AHHH, AHHH with each buck. Yet I managed to stay with her.

And I hadn't even sucked her clit yet.

"YOU FUCKING STUD HORSE, RAM MY PUSSY WITH YOUR COCK, RIGHT NOW!"

"SShh, Tate you mom will hear."

"I FUCKING DON'T CARE! YOU THINK SHE DOESN'T CUM LIKE THIS? I'VE SEEN HER!"

I focused on Tate's pretty pussy so as not to conjure up this incestual image of her mother.

"MISSIONARY, DOGGY, I FUCKING DON'T CARE, JUST FUCK ME!" She screamed.

"Missionary it is!"

And with that I plunged into her hot springs spa. I banged her cunt hard as we slapped out skin together. It took me exactly five bangs when suddenly: BAM!!

"OH, FUCK, TATE, I'M CUMMING, I'M SQUIRTING GOBS OF HOT CUM IN YOU. AAAAHHHH, OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!" I felt my pelvic muscles contract at least a dozen times and my mind, body and (especially) cock flooded with unbearable, electrical, paralyzing pleasure.

"JASON, YES, FUCK, JASON, I'M GOING AGAIN! FUCK! FUCK!

Her second gondola had reached the pinnacle and she bucked her hips so high I fell off. Then her knees suddenly slammed against my hips quivering, her whole body began shivering, and her teeth started chattering.

"Tate, are you okay? Are you cold?"

"No, sweet darling, I'm not cold, but...Ohhhhh...Ahhhh...Ohhhh.." She cooed like this for nearly a minute before she completed her thought.

"...But I just arrived at Santa's Orgasm Workshop..."

"...Ohhhh, fuuuckk, ohhh, fuuuckk," she repeated over and over, her quivering knees swaying my body left to right, right to left.

"North Pole, baby..."

I collapsed next to her and we both fell asleep.

When I awoke the next morning, it took me a second to remember where I was; and once I remembered, I was really confused as to why my boxers were on since I remember falling asleep naked. Also, I couldn't figure out why I was lying in bed the correct orientation and under the covers as opposed to cross wise with no covers.

Jubilant sunshine streamed in from the east facing window. Curious: last night I remembered the shutters were closed, but now they are opened.

I smelled coffee, cinnamon and bacon and my stomach started rumbling. I had to pee wickedly and realized that I fell asleep next to Tate last night without showering, brushing my teeth or emptying my bladder. I looked at the bedside alarm clock and it was 9:00. Feeling a little guilty for sleeping so long as a guest, I jumped out of bed, put on new boxers, shorts and a tee shirt, peed in the guest bathroom, then walked into the kitchen which was across from the living room.

The kitchen was modern but had been refurbished with old fashion items like a slate counter top, a wooden chopping block, antique cabinet pulls and doors with beveled glass as well as an antique faucet with old fashioned hot and cold handles—but with a modern sprayer.

Suddenly I was startled by a noise: GERRRRRRRRRRRR.

And a sink disposal, as it sounded like Mrs. Fletcher was grinding something down it, probably the strawberry tops of the bowl of fresh strawberries she had prepared.

It looked like only Mrs. Fletcher was up, which she confirmed immediately.

"Oh, Jason, you're up! Tate hasn't stirred. I guess you all stayed up late. Anything interesting on TV?" Mona Lisa's smile appeared again.

"No ma'am, really didn't watch TV (Careful, Jason!). Tate was showing me how clever she is with words!"

"Yes, she is extremely verbal. She was reading chapter books at three and a half. Did you know she wrote a novel in high school?"

"Really? I had no idea!"

"Publishers were keen to look at it since it was written by a high schooler—novelty sells novels I guess.

"They had lots of high praise for it. It was written towards kids her own age, but the subject matter was too, shall we say, risqué.

"Symes and Shoemaker, in fact, said: change the main character's age or change the sex scenes and we'd take it! Tate had already put so much work into it that she didn't want to do either. So, it sits on her hard drive. I'm not too upset though. I read it and was really surprised at how sexualized Tate had become as a junior in high school."

She flashed Mona Lisa again.

She gazed at me a long time with a beguiling look. Yet there was no questioning or beckoning to say anything about last night, or our sexual exploits. Clearly Mrs. Fletcher knows Tate is sexually active, and probably is glad it's with a boy she approves of—nice kid, nice family, who has always has been considerate and kind to Tate.

As if reading my thoughts she said, "Jason, I'm so glad Tate has you as a friend! And that you visited. She was stressed about how boring it was going to be after camp, waiting for freshman year to start."

She paused, hesitating to go further. A look crossed her face as if to say, "Oh, what the hell!"

"Jason, I know y'all are sexually active. I took Tate to the doctor's for birth control May two years ago in case you two hooked up at camp. But then I realized having sex would be hard to do because neither of you had cars that summer.

She got a big grin on her face, seeing that I was not getting upset or making excuses.

"This summer was different though. You had cars. And Tate had keys to our rental cabins not too far from Camp Rocky Mount. I know y'all went to Franklinville every Sunday; we can see the outdoor close circuit security camera from our computer at home.

"By the way, that's our nicest property. I won't ask your opinion of the indoor Jacuzzi-but I promise we don't have indoor cameras so no worries!"

The weirdness of this conversation was—well—beyond weird speaking about sex in hot tubs with my girlfriend's mother!

"We have the outside camera set so that we get an email when someone even walks onto the porch—that helps with FedEx and Amazon deliveries so we can remotely buzz the door unlocked so the packages go inside. The camera records coming and going. Didn't take me too much for me to figure out what was going on inside from 10 am to 4:30 pm entering and leaving every Sunday. Her father doesn't know."

Although I did not protest, I felt my face flush hot with embarrassment. I had screwed their 18 year old daughter fourteen times—fifteen if you count last night. What would her father have thought? What did Mrs. Fletcher think?

Right at that moment, Tate came into the kitchen.

"Mornin'" she said sleepily.

"Just telling Jason about the security camera and your Sundays spent outside of Franklinville."

"Mom, don't embarrass him. He doesn't know how you feel about our relationship."

Mrs. Fletcher turned to me and said,

"Jason, sexuality is a part of growing up. It was definitely a part of growing up on Blackbeard Mountain. On the farm you are surrounded by animals reproducing. It's natural to get curious. Heck, it's natural to get horny and want the boy or girl you have a crush on.

"We were very strict with Tate prior to age 18. She knew—because we had discussed it—that after that age, we were mostly concerned with pregnancy and infections, so she had to be on birth control and be in one relationship or use condoms."

Tate broke in.

"Jason, what Mom is saying is that she knows we fuck and she's okay with it."

I was shocked that Tate not only admitted our fucking, but also said the F word in front of her mother.

"Mom would have probably preferred I had started later than 18, but what's important to know is— she's glad it's YOU I'm having sex with. Of all the boys and families that she knows, you are hands down her top choice."

"Right," Mrs. Fletcher said. "We don't need to keep talking about this and I am not going to talk anymore about your sex lives. That's y'all's private stuff."

I was stunned and must have looked it!

"Jason, do you understand the drift of this conversation?" Tate asked

"Uh, um, sure, I think, um...maybe not?" I mumbled.

"Sweetie pie," Mrs. Fletcher said assuming her more colloquial self, "there ain't nothing you need to worry about. I know y'all fuck. I did at your age. It's okay only if you keep together. One of y'all runs around someone's gonna get the clap!"

"Mom!" Tate said.

"It's true, honey child! Am I right?"

Neither of us answered.

"I said, AIN'T I RIGHT?"

She was right and I said loudly, "Yes Ma'am!"

She came over to me and gave me a hug like she did whenever she dropped off or picked up Tate at camp. Only this time, she pressed her breasts into my chest, and there was a hint of erect nipples. Wonders never ceased this morning.

"See Tate he agrees with me. What about you?"

"You're right Mom. In the past when I defended it's okay to have multiple partners in a relationship, I was only arguing from a live and let live perspective. I was not saying I was going to have multiple partners."

"Jason, you are my witness. She agreed with me! Let me call the county newspaper cause THAT IS NEWS!"

Surprisingly, this did not upset Tate and they both laughed heartily.

"Now, y'all sit down and I'll get you breakfast. "

"Just one question," I said.

"Two questions, actually. When did Tate leave my room? And how was I in the right place under covers in bed with my boxers on when I woke up this morning?"

I didn't mention that we were a bit drunk—sleepy and drunk, not remembering who helped us.

"Jason, I was going to thank YOU for dressing me and taking me back to my room last night," Tate said.

"I didn't do that, not that I remember—and I assume, Tate you didn't do that for me?"

"Nope," Tate said.

At that exact instant, Mrs. Fletcher stood up and yelled, "Y'all there's a lot more coffee cake!"

Tate excused herself to get ready for the day and left the kitchen. Mrs. Fletcher turned around and gave me a wink.

"You were looking pretty good in the buff last night, Jason" she whispered with a chuckle.

The day was glorious! The sun shone brightly, there was a gentle breeze and the high was to be in the upper seventies. Elevation helped-the Fletchers lived at 5000 ft., just shy of a mile.

We had already planned to hike the Fletcher Hallow Loop which started and ended on Falls Creek Road but at different elevations. The trailhead was right at the end of The Flat, a plateau connecting Craggy and Blackbeard Mountains. It then climbed Blackbeard with switch backs. There were two major high lights: 30 foot water falls one third in; and two thirds in, cliff overhangs with spectacular views into Tennessee, Virginia and even West Virginia.

Mrs. Fletcher kindly packed sandwiches and fruit for lunch and Tate grabbed six water bottles. We put the sandwiches in the satchel Tate carried on her back and the heavier water bottles in the one I carried.

At 11, Mrs. Fletcher drove us down to the head of the trail on the Flat. The six mile trail ended on Falls Creek Road about 1500 feet below Tate's house so we would not need to be picked up.

Dropping us off, Mrs. Fletcher said, "Now y'all be smart and careful. Not everyone will appreciate seeing too much skin if you know what I mean. Although, Tate, you know that place that Uncle Sammy used to take you and Billy to camp? Very few know about that place. More important, no one can see it."

"Okay, Mom, I know exactly where you're talking about. Thanks for dropping us off and for making lunches!"

"Yes, thanks so much, Mrs. Fletcher!"

Tate's mom made a three point turn and headed back up the mountain.

"I'm having a really hard time wrapping my head around your mom's cool attitude about us having sex!"

"It's this culture, Jason. Sex and reproduction are all around us—were all around them growing up. They just didn't get too hung up about it. Sex was part of life, simply just another physical need to fulfil—like eating, quenching thirst or sleeping.

"I mean," she continued, "I guess there obviously is a little more seriousness and approbation attached to it than simply taking a big swig of water when you're thirsty," she said, not even realizing she used a word (approbation) I didn't know.

"It only startles me when I leave this Falls Creek bubble and see the more serious sexual attitudes and hang ups people have elsewhere. The juxtaposition of differences inside and outside the bubble is really stark."

We emerged back onto Falls Creek within shouting distance of Tate's house very late in the afternoon. We took our time because the hike was so beautiful; I don't think I could ever get enough of the beautiful views we could see.

We did not have sex; but we did take our chances and skinny dipped in the pool underneath the water fall. I thought Tate looked really hot last night, but seeing her naked in nature brought out the animal in me and I was erect almost immediately.

"Easy, Tiger," Tate said. "Any minute one of my aunts or uncles could come up the trail. It's one thing to skinny dip on a warm summer day, but quite another to be discovered with your cock firmly ensconced in my vagina."

Fortunately no one came up or down the trail all day; we took advantage of the solitude and lay naked together in the sun on a flat rock, as large as a bed, next to the waterfall and swimming hole. I stayed erect the whole time and Tate teased me about it.

"OMG Jason, don't you ever have ANYTHING else on your mind than sex?" She laughed.

I chuckled. "Actually Tate, it's not sex on the brain so much as a hot female in my visual field. Getting hard is automatic, like a reflex."

"I like those kind of reflexes," Tate said. "They say ejaculation is a reflex too. I really like to see that reflex in action!"

"Me too!" I said heartily.

It was about 5 pm when we walked into Tate's home from our hike. We both had that "good tired" feeling, a combination of sore muscles, slight fatigue and, probably, some endorphins thrown into the mix.

When we came into the kitchen, Tate's mom say, "Tate, a little scheduling glitch just happened. Tiffany called and said she has to cancel your hair cut appointment on Tuesday. I told her that since you were at camp all summer, you desperately need a haircut as soon as possible. She said how about tonight at 6? So I agreed. I know I should have asked you, but we have so many other things to do to get ready for college that tonight makes it really more convenient. Since your appointment will be at her house, I'm not really sure that Jason should go because there might not be room for him to sit in her home salon or whatever."

"MOM!! How could you!?!? Jason is here tonight; it's really rude for me to dump him so that I can get my hair cut," Tate said, nearly yelling, her voice tinged with anger.

"Tate, it's totally okay! I was thinking about getting a shower and catching up on emails from school about registration for classes. And your mom's right about two things—you do need a haircut and it would be great to get this out of the way."

So with that, our evening plans were made.

Mrs. Fletcher heated up leftovers in the microwave for Tate's dinner while she took a shower and washed and blow-dried her hair. I stayed in the kitchen with Mrs. Fletcher. I had always found her so easy to talk to. She asked about my family—I have a sister, Kara, a year younger than me who Mrs. Fletcher knows since Kara attended camp the same weeks I did. As Tate and I grew to be close camp friends, Mrs. Fletcher got to know my mom and sister every summer at drop off, parent's night, and pick up. Neither of our fathers ever came, so there was always lots of time for our moms to chat before having to head back home. And our mothers became pretty close—at least enough to talk about each of their struggles with their respective husbands.

So we talked a bit about my family and their comings and goings.

"Mom is going back to school to finish her Master's degree in English so she can teach AP English at our high school. I think part of it is to get out of the house because my father does a lot of work from home; and they often don't get along well," I confided to Tate's mom.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Jason, I really am. Just so you know—it's been hard the past few years between Tate's dad and me. So it's really common as I'm sure you realize. Your mom and I have told each other all about our struggles. I don't mean to burden you with our family's problems—just wanted you to know that you're not alone."

"Thanks, Mrs. Fletcher..."

"Please, call me Sally" she interrupted.

"Um, okay," and this felt a bit awkward after having called her Mrs. Fletcher all these years.

"Thanks, Sally," I said.

Tate came into the kitchen as asked, "So, what have y'all been talking about?"

"Your fathers," Mrs. Fletcher—I mean Sally—said.

Tate rolled her eyes. "Please mom, don't get into all that stuff with Jason. We don't need to weigh him down."

"It doesn't weigh me down, Tate," I responded. "It actually was kind of helpful to know that Kara and I aren't the only kids whose parents struggle."

'Sally' looked at me with an odd expression—it was as if she had never seen me before or like she was searching for something—in my face? In my demeanor? Did I do or say something that bothered her?

Tate finished her dinner and left.

_______________________________________________________

"Tiffany's house is 45 minutes away; I hope she makes it or at least is not too late," Sally said.