High School Seniors Get Education Ch 03

Our morning conversation was as strained and distant as it had been the previous evening. I felt Lila was hurrying through breakfast so she could go to work and get away from me; perhaps get in closer proximity to her young lover, Joshua Hardy.

That reinforced my indignation. I could play this game too. I retrieved the napkin that flirtatious dairy maid Amber had given me with her number on it, and left a voicemail complimenting her great service at the ice cream shop; also expressing interest in the "special treat" we had talked about. I wondered if I would hear back or if Amber was just talk, and would shy away from involvement with an older guy.

The phone rang shortly. "I can't believe you finally called," she said enthusiastically.

"I want to show my appreciation by treating you to dinner, and afterward we could take in a movie or go dancing, or whatever," I told her, emphasizing the last word.

"I can't wait, but have to get a girlfriend to fill in for me at work. Is tomorrow okay?"

Well, she sounded not only willing but eager. And it was not long before she called again, saying her relief was arranged.

"Mom gets wigged out if I'm not back by12, so let's plan enough time for your treat." She emphasized the last word, causing a stirring between my legs. She suggested we meet around 5 p.m. in front of her friend's house, where she could leave her car.

Lila came home that night with carryout dinner for us in a bag. Our conversation was polite and non-committal. She volunteered little, and went off to grade papers or read or something. I streamed a movie, which I could only half-concentrate on. Again, we retired at different times. I purposely brushed my hand against her side, but again received no acknowledgment. We were miles apart beneath the sheets. It had been a week since our last love-making.

Next morning, as we were winding up breakfast, I told her not to expect me back for dinner, that I would be late. She looked at me curiously.

"I've been remembering that saying your mother was fond of, about the goose and gander, and have decided to try some of the same sauce that you're into lately," I told her, trying to keep my voice calm and even.

She frowned, not understanding at first. Then it dawned. "I should have a little more information than that," she said hesitantly.

"You remember Amber, the girl in your class who works at the dairy bar?"

"Amber Siciliano. Yes. But what...? Oh, my god."

"We're going out this evening. For starters, I'm taking her to dinner at that place in Crawfordsville. We'll see where it goes from there."

Her eyes widened as she held my gaze, but her reaction was muted. "I have to go to work," she said, rising from the table. "Guess I'll see you whenever," she said soberly, on her way out the door.

Amber wore an attractive dress, low cut on top, high cut on the bottom, which complimented her ample figure. She looked stunning and older than her 18 years. She also had a tote bag with her, larger than the usual female accessory.

The restaurant we went to was in a town 35 miles away, where it was unlikely anyone would know either of us. Lila and I had stumbled on the place during an outdoor adventure in happier days. It had good food, drink, and other amenities.

"We would like the wine list and will rely on you to recommend the best on the menu," I told the waiter, a guy about 25. "And please think about that. We don't want just a stew made with surplus ingredients on the verge of the trash can." When he came back with the list, I scanned it and ordered an outrageously-priced bottle. The waiter scrutinized Amber, but perhaps just to take in the view, as he did not ask for proof of age.

Amber was impressed.

"You've got influence," she said after the waiter left.

"You're a beautiful young woman with an older guy prepared to spend some bucks and tip well," I replied. "And you're very mature and dazzling. His eyes were too busy undressing you to tell his mouth to ask for proof of age."

She giggled.

As our equally-expensive meal was ending, a band began playing. Amber stood up, the glow from a couple glasses of wine amplifying her pretty face, and suggested we "get our swerve on."

I'm not a great dancer but was able to keep up with her on the slower numbers. Seeing my difficulty on the more swervy ones, some young dudes at the next table who had been eyeballing Amber stepped in. They took turns stepping, swirling, and lightly grinding with her. I was fine with that, as I did not want to appear anything less than suave and confident. And I enjoyed watching her dress come up around her shapely thighs on the quick movements. I moved back in on the numbers requiring nothing more than holding her tightly while moving slowly.

I ordered two more bottles of wine for us and the guys at the next table. In between dances, Amber asked me questions about journalism and volunteered information about her life, which seemed to center around the dairy bar owned by her parents, and the high school with its star athletes, theatrical performers, and teachers. She "was just about grooved in" on a college the following year, but would hate to leave her friends and family.

Amber seemed to enjoy the evening, but at 9 o'clock, while we were doing a slow dance, she lifted her head off my shoulder, observed my left wrist, and pointed out the time on my watch.

"This has been great," she said, "but I really want to give you that special dessert I promised," she said with a coy smile, batting her eyes in a sultry manner that would have done credit to a movie siren.

After a week of sexual drought, I did not need more encouragement.

The Deerdale Motel was an older motor court, with tiny detached cottages. It did not look like much on the outside, but the pickings were thin in Crawfordsville, and it did have an attractive layout, the units abutting a small stream. The alternative would be a tacky highway interchange motel some miles away. I stopped at the Deerdale and asked Amber what she thought of it. She nodded enthusiastically, an anticipatory smile in place.

I found the office and asked to see one of the units, which looked basic but reasonably clean. The night manager, observing Amber, asked how long we anticipated "needing the room," and I candidly responded only a couple of hours. With a slight smile, he said if he was not in the office when we wanted to check out to just leave the key on the counter.

We parked next to the unit. Amber brought in her bag, and excusing herself, went to the bathroom. She came out in a sheer negligee that did not leave much to the imagination, frills accenting bust and hips.

I gave an admiring whistle. She giggled and sat down next to me on the bed, an eager expression on her face. If those were not bedroom eyes, they were a great imitation. We joined mouths in a long kiss. Her tongue eagerly explored my mouth, and I reciprocated. My hands found their way under her nightgown and up to her firm, ample boobs.

When we broke apart and I found my breath, I apologized because I was about to divest her of that nice garment she had so recently changed into. She nodded her assent, stood and put her arms up. When it was off, I proceeded to plant kisses on her shapely breasts and nibble her firm nipples as my hands moved down to explore her pelvic region, where I caressed her partially shaven bush. She unbuttoned my shirt, and worked it off, then quickly undid my belt and trousers, which was evidence of experience in getting to what she wanted in a man. The trousers fell, and I stepped out of them. She pulled my briefs down, and my firm erection sprung up to greet her.

"Wow," she said. "Impressious." Seating herself on the bed as I stood there, she licked up and down the shaft, then took the hood in her mouth and sucked with enthusiasm. I had to slow her down. In my deprived condition excitement could build quickly to the point of no return, and there would not be sufficient time for recovery. I told her we should take the bedspread and blanket off so she could lie down on the sheets and let me return the favor.

I stepped out of the briefs around my ankles and took off my socks. She was already on her back on the sheets with her legs spread. I lowered my head to nibble and tongue her clit and pussy lips for a few moments. She vocalized her appreciation. There was no foul aroma, so I took the dive into her muff. She moaned. I kept up what I was doing for a few minutes, my tongue and fingers massaging her G-spot and other parts until contractions confirmed her murmurs of appreciation.

"Oh my god, that was fucking fantastic. I came," she exclaimed loudly enough to inform the night manager in the office three cottages away. "Let's 69," she said, a moment after getting her breath, bearing out my previous suspicion that she was no stranger to erotic activity.

I quickly lay down, and she shifted herself so that her thighs enveloped my face, while her mouth again took in my cock. We pleasured each other a while longer, during which Amber had another orgasm. Then I came up for air and reminded her that we did not have a lot of time, and should consider moving to the main event. She agreed, releasing my cock from its oral embrace and rolling off me.

"How do you want me?" she asked.

"How do you like it?"

"Cowgirl, then doggie," she said, eagerly. Her sophistication with such positions at a tender age impressed me.

"Okay, one second," I said, retrieving my pants from the floor and extracting my wallet and the condom inside. She watched with undisguised anticipation as I rolled it down my erect shaft. I lay back, and she quickly straddled me, guided my erection into her wet snatch and proceeded to ride.

It is best to let the lady control the action in this position, so I resisted the urge to move, and just let her gyrate and grind away from different angles. Her face took on an almost meditative delight, her boobs jouncing rhythmically, sucking sounds coming from the area of our union, punctuated by occasional slaps of skin as she rose and fell on the "horse." I massaged her clit when the bucking slowed. She leaned toward me for a kiss, and I followed by sucking her breasts as she continued riding. I had to slow her rhythm to a trot and a walk on a couple of occasions so the heat of the ride did not bring me off too quickly. Breathing heavily, she suggested changing the position to doggie, so I could control the pace. I agreed.

She dismounted and arranged pillows, assuming the position. I entered her love box again and proceeded to thrust at a tempo that I felt could be maintained for a decent interval without cumming. Amber approved, judging by her vocalizations -- what I could hear of them because her face was often buried in a pillow. Before long she raised her torso, supporting herself on her outstretched arms, and shifted her lower body in modified postures so that I would be stimulating different areas inside her, as she manipulated her clit with a hand. Muffled cries were followed by a scream of "Good fucking man," as her vaginal muscles squeezed intensely and erratically, signaling orgasm number three. She lowered herself again, lying virtually motionless. I lowered my torso to rest on her back for several minutes, staying inside but giving her a chance to recover. Then resumed. She gave soft moans and cries as I fucked her for a long time.

"Finish it off. I can't take it much longer." she eventually yelled. I picked up the pace, as she straightened her knees to the kneeling posture that suited her best, biting the pillow and whimpering unintelligibly. Soon she cried out again, her vagina contracting. I was also more than ready to finish, and grunted loudly while popping my load into the condom, then virtually collapsed on top of her back, exhausted. We remained like that, unmoving, for a minute or more. Finally, I withdrew and fell beside her, laying on my back. She also relaxed, stretching out on her stomach. Our faces were inches apart as we looked at each other. There was a big smile on hers and probably mine as well. We were both saturated with sweat.

"You weren't kidding about a special treat," I told her.

"You were fucking awesome," she said, with emphasis. "Four times I came! Four! You are the man! No guy ever brought me off that many times." She paused, then added, more to herself than to me, "Josh never even came close."

I hadn't thought to hear that name for a while. "Who?"

"Oh, my ex-boyfriend, Josh," she said.

"There are a few Joshes I know of in the school," I said. "Does this one have a last name?"

"Hardy," she replied. "And he was, most of the time," she added, giggling.

"Were you with Josh for a while?" I asked.

"Oh, we sort of grew up together. I always liked Josh. We started doing it when we were 16, first time for both of us, and did it a lot, but he was always in such a hurry. And he didn't like to juice me. No cunnilinguist. Just wanted in. Bang, bang, it was over. I don't think I came more than two or three times in the two years we were fucking. I felt like I was missing something. But four times just tonight!" she marveled again, through her huge smile.

Talk about a small world and irony, here it was. Also a little divine retribution perhaps. Joshua had been irritating my stomach lining by screwing my girlfriend, and here I just had a great night returning the favor with the ex who had broken his heart, who also rated me vastly superior. Maybe I would rub the creep's nose in that.

Then, another bulb flashed, the germ of an idea.

"I know Josh," I told Amber. The lady I live with has been giving him clarinet lessons."

"Ms. D'Ambrosia, right?" Amber said, as Lila entered the conversation for the first time. "She was with you one day at the dairy bar. She's nice. She's also lucky," Amber said with a pout, as she snuggled against me. "She gets what you just gave me whenever she wants it."

"Do most of the kids at school like Ms. D'Ambrosia?" I asked. "No bad stories about her?"

"No, she's cool," Amber said. "Everyone likes her."

"Good," I said, relieved that Josh apparently was not talking. One small point in the little bastard's favor.

"Except I may have to start hating her," Amber said, with another mock pout. "Why don't you kick her out and let me move in with you."

I smiled and kissed her on the forehead. "Don't hate her. She's very special to me, and she's also very open-minded. That's why I'm here with you."

She looked at me, eyes wide. "Really? You cleared it with her?"

I nodded.

She looked happy. "Awesome. Wicked cool. Then we can do this some more."

Time to steer this conversation, I thought. "Maybe, but we have to be realistic," I said. "Wonderful as this was, it shouldn't be a regular thing with us. I'm too old for you, and you'd be better off with a steady boyfriend your age, someone that can pick you up at your own house and take you to dances and parties and other local things; someone you don't have to hide with at a cheap motel miles away."

"I go out," she said. "I haven't been a nun since I split with Josh." She paused. "I've fucked two other guys since then." She looked at me with evident appreciation of her own maturity and experience. "But not Josh, Mike or Jeff equal you in bed, so bring on the cheap motels." Then her face brightened as she thought of something. "Or maybe we can do it at your place if Miss D'Ambrosia doesn't object."

"Well, that's another thing. I'm not sure she would approve us going at it on a regular basis," I said. "We're going through a little rough patch right now, which is also part of the reason why I'm here with you, but I think that will pass. Honestly, my heart and soul are with her, and I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual."

"She's real lucky," Amber said, kissing me hard on the lips. "God, what awesome loving she gets."

"You know," I said, "I can see why you liked Josh. He's very talented, athletic, good looking. Certainly smart. Do you ever regret breaking up with him?"

She shrugged. "I really liked Josh. I still do. It might have worked if he took more time in bed, wasn't such a two-pump chump."

I laughed at that phrase. "I understand that he's been practicing," I told her, "He and I have talked a little, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't joined a monastery either. I think he's refined his technique as a lover for the better."

"Who's he practiced with?" she asked, an edge to her voice. "Was it Taylor Burns? Ashley DiNapoli? Brittany Forbes? They're all hot trotters, wet and ready to tip on his dick."

"Even if I knew, I wouldn't name names," I told her, "but you shouldn't take the competition too seriously. Josh told Lila and me he was really depressed when his girl dumped him. That's probably part of the reason why he's practiced improving his love-making. He's moaned a lot about losing his old girlfriend, and I bet he would love to show you how much better he is. By the way, he didn't mention you by name, but now that I know who his lost love is, I can understand why he wants another chance."

She kissed me for the compliment, then seemed to reflect on the rest of what I had told her. "Yeah, I heard he was down, but he hasn't asked to see me. He hasn't tried for a reconciliationship."

"Could be he's still trying to work up his courage. I can tell you from a guy's perspective that it takes a lot of guts to approach a girl after she's dumped him. Maybe Josh figures he has to be a really good lover this time around, and he's still trying to refine his technique. Or maybe he's looking for a sign from his lost love that she might be open to a reconciliation...ship."

She did not say anything more but seemed to be thinking. I hoped I had spread the germ of an idea, but hell, if it did not work out at least I was likely to get a few more good fucks. As it was getting late, we showered, dressed, and checked out. The clerk gave me a smile when I handed in the key.

I returned Amber to her car at her friend's house and followed her as she drove home. She pulled into her parents' driveway about five minutes before her midnight curfew. I drove on past.

When I entered our house, I was surprised to find Lila on the sunroom couch at such a late hour on a work night. "Hi," I said, sitting down next to her. She looked at me, curious but hesitant to initiate the conversation.

"Did you have a good time?" she asked, finally.

"Yes," I replied honestly. "Amber and I went to dinner at a little night spot; we talked a bit, danced -- she's a good dancer, like you -- and then checked into a motel."

She looked down and did not say anything for a moment. Then, "I deserve it for being such a slut." She paused before asking, "How was Amber? As a... companion, I mean."

"Very good," I replied. "Enthusiastic, funny, maybe a little too concentrated on the high school universe, but I guess that comes with the territory. She's also very sensual. I can see why Josh was devastated to lose her."

Lila seemed lost in thought at first. Then, as what I said registered, her head shot up, a questioning look in her eyes.

"Coincidence," I said. "It turns out Amber was the girl who broke his heart."

Her eyes widened. "Does she know... what's been going on?"

"No, your boyfriend has apparently kept his word not to say anything to anyone. I have a feeling if he talked at school that an extrovert like Amber who had been hooked up with the guy would soon know about it."

There was silence for a few moments.

"She still likes Josh," I said. "She broke up with him because he lacked sophistication in the sack, wasn't stimulating her enough, finished too quickly."

"I bet she didn't have that complaint about you," Lila said, with a tinge of bitterness, then asked, "So, she was good?"

"Closest I've come to a sexual she-demon in a long while," I said. Lila looked hurt. "Although, not in the same league with the mature, sensitive, beautiful woman I've been in love and living with a few years now," I added, stroking her cheek.