Then Came Johnson Chapter 1: The Amish Way free porn video

The clock on the dash of the big diesel RV that I was driving, as well as my stomach were both reminding me it was well past noon and I had not taken out time to eat before hitting the road early this morning; a single cup of coffee apparently wasn’t enough to satisfy the appetite that my stomach seemed to think it was entitled to.

Although officially retired with no schedules to meet or for that matter anything else better to do than pick out a destination on the map and point the RV in that direction, I had no pressing reason to roll out of bed and make an early start this morning other than an ominous weather forecast.  A late winter storm was barreling out of the Texas Panhandle like a fast freight train threatening everything from Amarillo to the East Coast; a monster such as that can be a game changer.

This day was only my second day of living full time in an RV or as I like to call it, a motorhome.  It’s now my home, it has a motor, and it cost more, lots more, than a recreational vehicle like the camper trailer I used to pull behind my SUV on weekend trips to the lake, so to me and the insurance company, it’s a motorhome.  Although it has all sorts of amenities such as a highly rated heater, I still did not want to get caught stuck in freezing weather.

All things considered, I determined the best course of action for me, would be to head south as fast as possible in an attempt to get out of the storm’s way.  With any luck by nightfall tonight I would be close to Atlanta and halfway to Florida tomorrow by the time the storm reached the foothills of Western Appalachia.

I pulled off the interstate at an exit that appeared to be exactly in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee.  Based upon the billboard I passed a couple of miles back up the highway, at this exit, there was to be found a small truck stop and restaurant; the latter hopefully would provide a solution to my bitterly complaining stomach.

It was a good thing that the outdoor advertising sign didn’t promise much as upon arrival this facility didn’t look very promising.  It only seemed reasonable to me that as I was already off the interstate, I might as well go ahead and get a bite to eat and top off the motorhome’s fuel tank with diesel as this station had the cheapest fuel prices I had found in a hundred miles.  Besides, the weather report claimed that the drizzle that had been coming down all morning would be stopping shortly, so why not take advantage of the restaurant and truck stop to wait out the rain

As I was steering the big motorhome off the outer road and onto the truck stop’s lot, a passenger bus—you know; one of those with the stylized painting of a greyhound on the side—was leaving.  I suddenly found myself wondering if any of those passengers were like me, would be snowbirds, making a mad dash south to escape the cold and snow of the winter weather.

Just as I parked what was now my home on wheels, a young Amish woman ran out of the restaurant, obviously in a panic waving her arms and screaming.  On reaching the center of the lot she just stopped and buried her face in her hands, sobbing. The thought I’ll bet the poor kid missed her bus raced through my mind.

My late wife’s brother was a contractor who had hired Amish craftsmen for several years.  Based on his experience in dealing with the Amish he had acquired a vast knowledge of their culture and had often shared over the years with me what he knew about their lifestyle, a tradition often referred to as 'the Amish way.'  Although what I knew about the ‘simple people’ was secondhand, I instinctively knew this particular situation surrounding the young lady standing in the rain, was unusual.  They have a profound distrust of the English - which is to say, everyone who is not Amish - so you just don’t often see young Amish women travelling alone without a male relative accompanying her, or another lady as a traveling companion, a chaperone of sorts.

According to this morning’s weather forecast, the rain was supposedly going to taper off; however, instead of subsiding the rain was now coming down in torrents quickly soaking the young lady. 

An inner voice screamed out making me feel compelled to offer my assistance to the Amish woman, who was still standing there in the middle of the truck stop parking lot apparently oblivious to the rain.  Opening the door of the motorhome and standing on the bottom step in the entrance way, barely sheltered from the rain myself, I yelled at her in an attempt to get her attention, “Miss!”  She turned to face me and I asked her, “Can I help you?”

Perhaps it was the fact that the motorhome resembled a bus like the one she had just missed or maybe I reminded her of an older family member; regardless of either of those possibilities, when she looked my way I could see by her facial expression a sense of sudden relief had come over her, as if a prayer had just been answered.

She quickly walked through the pouring rain to the open door of my motorhome and without hesitation, I stepped out into the pouring rain like a gentleman and with a flourish of my hand motioned for her to precede me up the steps into the motorhome.

Although it had only been a few months since I had been made a widower and maybe should not have been paying attention to certain things, as the young Amish lady made her way up the three steps into my motorhome, her butt being about eye level as I followed her, I could not help but notice how her long conservative but carefully tailored dress showed off a perfect female figure: a narrow waist above classic hips, not too wide but just right.  My imagination told me that underneath all that fabric there were two fine young breasts and without a doubt a cute heart-shaped ass.

The young woman turned to face me and with pleading eyes she looked at me, begging for my assistance, her requests verbalized in short and rapid staccato sentences: “Could you please help me?  I’ve missed my bus.  Everything I own is on the bus in my trunk! Even my money!  As soon as I get my trunk I can pay you!  Please, sir?”

While she was asking for my help, I couldn’t help but admire the young face.  Other than redness around her eyes from crying, her complexion was blemish free.  No visible mascara, makeup or lipstick but then again her long eyelashes, even skin tone and full lips needed no augmentation.

As she explained her situation pleading for my help, my mind drifted away from the conversation. I looked her up and down fantasizing exactly how she might appear sans all that clothing.  I wondered how her breasts were shaped, did she have a tight ass, and how she might be in bed.  Then I realized that she couldn’t be more than a year or two older than my own daughter.  It suddenly occurred to me that maybe the thoughts I was having might be improper.  I’m old enough to be this girl’s daddy, I thought.  Suddenly I was jerked back to reality; she was standing there looking at me with a slightly annoyed look and waiting for me to reply to her requests.

Unnerved by allowing myself to be distracted by her sensuousness, I clumsily tried to recover the situation, “Uh Miss, my name is Charles, and yours is...?”  Then before she could answer I quickly added, “But everyone calls me Chuck.”

“My name is Anna Bontrager but everyone calls me Anna,” she replied with a slight smile betraying the possibility that she knew I was distracted by her presence.

“Uh, Anna, do you remember when and where you were to change busses next?”

“At the next stop, Atlanta,” she replied with a quizzical look and asked, “why?”.

I explained to her, “Your luggage will be safe on the bus, and when the driver unloads at Atlanta and you’re not there to claim it he will have to take it in to the desk where they will hold it.  If you want to, you can ride with me since I’m going that direction anyway.  We should arrive in the Atlanta area late this afternoon and in the morning I’ll drive you into the city to the bus station.”

With that offer, her face lit up, as if she could possibly become even more beautiful. “Oh, could you?  I won’t be any trouble and I will pay you when I get my trunk back.”

My cell phone was lying on a wireless charging pad next to the driver’s seat; quickly I ran a search for the bus station's telephone number.  After asking her for her ticket I called and explained her situation, gave them all the pertinent information, and told them that we would be there in the morning to get her luggage.

Trying to put aside the obvious attraction I felt for Anna and return to reality, it occurred to me that her wet clothing might be getting a bit uncomfortable. “Anna, I have a clothes dryer in the back of the coach.  Would you like to dry your things?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she said with her voice trailing off as if something had just occurred to her and was on her mind, but she was apparently hesitant to say it.

Then it hit me: being Amish and conservative, she might be concerned about her modesty. “Oh!  Uh, you can wear my sweatpants and pullover while your clothing dries,” I offered, “Wait here just for a moment.”

I all but ran to the back of the coach to the bathroom where the washer and dryer were.  I quickly removed my clothes which I had left in the dryer and threw them in the closet not knowing what to do on the spur of the moment with my dried but unfolded clothing.  I grabbed a sweatshirt and pants, closed the closet door, and threw the sweats on the bed.  Hurrying around my bedroom I picked everything up and put away all that which you might imagine a bachelor could leave lying around.  Then I stepped out of the bedroom into the hallway and yelled, “Anna!” motioning for her to come to the back of the motorhome.

She had removed the cloak Amish women wear as we might wear a jacket or coat, exposing the tailored bodice of her dress which made it apparent—even though she was wearing a very conservative dress—that she had a flat stomach and ample breasts.

The outer bonnet that Amish women wear in public when off of the farm, as well as the small cloth with long strings that they use to cover their hair which is carefully braided and gathered with hairpins at the back of the head, was laid aside.  And she had let her long hair down and I was surprised to see that her blonde hair which reached all the way down to her waist was naturally wavy due to being almost always braided.  She was gorgeous.

Now you have to understand that a motorhome such as mine has expandable rooms that—when parked—can be extended making the coach very spacious and roomy.  But when traveling the slide-out rooms retract into the coach, making the center aisle very narrow.  Living in one of these things is like the living conditions depicted in movies about submarines or naval ships; it can be very crowded.

I can honestly say I didn’t do it on purpose. I just wasn’t thinking; I turned my back to the wall and motioned for Anna to go into the bedroom to change.  However, this required her to turn sideways and squeeze past me in that narrow hallway.  As she was passing in front of me her breasts rubbed against my chest and suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks!  I looked down into her eyes just as she looked up into mine and like the old cliché, time seemed to stand still.

Without thinking, I instinctively reached up and pushed her hair behind her ear and let my hand hesitate there at the side of her face.  She closed her eyes allowing herself the taboo luxury of nuzzling my palm with her face while purring softly like a kitten.  Savoring the human contact, her mouth opened slightly as if to silently say, ooohhh.  Without hesitation, without consideration of the implications of my actions, I bent down and kissed those full, unadorned lipstick-free and luscious lips.

Instead of her being shocked by a man kissing her, a stranger she had just met and reflexively pushing me away, I felt her tongue touch my lips inviting me to explore her mouth further.  The moment felt so right, so good; I knew she felt butterflies in her tummy just as I also was experiencing the same feelings of attraction.

Kissing passionately—sharing an intimate moment in which fate had brought two strangers together, two who desperately needed each other—we took turns alternately exploring each other’s mouth.

Slowly she slid her arms around my chest and up my back, her palms against my back with her fingers extended over my shoulders clinging to me as if she was going to collapse on weakening knees.  Her whole body seemed to relax, almost as if it was going to melt into mine.

While my left hand was pulling her to me, my right moved to her breast, searching through the bodice of her dress for a hint of a nipple hidden behind the cotton fabric.  Her breast was round, young and firm; her nipple, hard as a rock straining to pierce through her dress and gain its freedom.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, positioning her mons to rub on my thigh through the pleated skirt.  Her breath became more rapid, her kisses more passionate.  I ran my left hand down her back slowly to her butt cheek and playfully squeezed it while pulling her even closer to me.

I moved my other hand from her breast to her rear and with both hands pulled her skirt up to her waist, holding the gathered fabric in one and with the other hand finding her panties and fingering her pussy through the cottony fabric.  She was already so wet that her panties were soaked.  I pulled the crotch aside and found her inner lips extending outward past the labia majora.  Slowly I pushed my index finger into her hot, soppy wet vagina and then in a come-hither motion, I teased her clit.  Her body shuddered, knees went weak, her back arched, and she pushed herself further onto my finger, riding the wave of her orgasm, her hips bucking back and forth humping my hand.

When Anna regained her composure, her orgasm having subsided, she moved her hands from my shoulders to my pants rubbing my rock-solid hard-on through the denim tent.  Unfastening my pants she pulled my jeans and briefs down letting my cock spring to attention.  Dropping to her knees she grabbed it with one of her tiny hands and kissed the end.  Seductively she looked up into my eyes and licked my pre-cum from her full lips.

She went to work on my cock like someone dying of starvation at an all-you-can-eat food buffet.  Holding it up she ran her tongue along the bottom then taking the head between those luscious lips, she teased the end with her tongue working every drop of pre-cum out and into her mouth.  Then grabbing the base, circling it between thumb and forefinger she lightly pulled it into her mouth until I could feel the back of her throat with the head of my dick.

Working my cock in and out fucking me with her mouth soon proved to be more than I could handle; her ministrations pushed me over the top.   My dick began to shoot load after load of the salty goo into her mouth and like a porn queen, Anna swallowed every drop never ever gagging, not even for a moment.

When I was done, she stood and kissed me.  Tasting the essence of my own cum on her tongue was one of the most erotic sensations I had ever experienced.

“Chuck,” Anna said as she looked at me through those beautiful eyes, “I want you, but I need to get to Atlanta and find my things, so this will have to do.”

She turned and nonchalantly walked into my bedroom as if nothing had happened.  I was fascinated, watching Anna remove the many straight pins that held her bodice in place—some Amish communities will not even allow buttons or hook-and-eye fasteners, forcing the young ladies to pin their tops together—then she pushed the dress off her shoulders then down over her hips allowing it to fall to the floor stepping out of it while clad only in her panties and camisole.  I started to follow her but fortunately realized just before falling flat on my face, that my jeans and briefs were still down around my ankles.

I showed her where everything was: the washer and dryer, washcloths, towels, and other toiletries Anna might need.  I left her to herself so she could clean up, excusing myself and promising her I would go get something for us to eat before we hit the road to Atlanta.

The truck stop—surprisingly, since it was out in the middle of nowhere—included a ‘Mackie Ds,’ where I ordered us some sandwiches to go.  On my return to the motorhome, Anna was the visage if not the epitome of femininity, clad only in my old worn, comfortable sweatshirt which was way too big for her.  The large neck opening was hanging off one shoulder, the sleeves bunched up on her arms, and the bottom just long enough to hang down covering the cheeks of her ass.  Being resourceful, she had found my stock of paper plates and was going about the motions of setting the table in anticipation of me bringing our lunch on my return from the truck stop.

While we ate, I checked some apps on my phone and tentatively found a place to camp overnight just outside Atlanta.  I explained to Anna that we would dry-camp at Walmart, parking in their lot without the benefit of water, sewer or electrical hookups.  She didn’t say anything, but from the look in her eyes I knew she was questioning that arrangement; maybe she had no intentions of ever again roughing it like she had done her whole life.  I quickly explained to her that this coach was totally self-contained with a fresh-water tank as well as holding tanks for waste, and with the large onboard generator we wouldn’t lack for electricity.  Not saying anything Anna just nodded her head and went back to eating her hamburger, but I could tell she was relieved.

The next few hours—drive wise—were miserable.  The rain that was supposed to quit just after lunch was now coming down in blowing sheets making the traffic on the interstate more than frustrating.  The one bright point of the trip was Anna’s company.  Other than what little time I had with my daughter after her mother’s funeral, with no other women in my life, the lack of having someone to talk to had created an emptiness that I was happy to have filled by Anna even if only for a short time.

As the big diesel motorhome devoured mile after mile of interstate Anna passed the time telling me of how, at an early age, she had come to dream of one day leaving the Amish way.  She'd fantasized of living like we do, having those things we are accustomed to.  She spoke of the simple convenience of being able to flip a switch and illuminate a room without having to light a smoky and smelly kerosene lamp, to be able to turn a knob and have running water, without having to go to the well and pump it; she longed for a lifestyle that included the simple things we English, Americans who are not Amish, often take for granted.

Anna explained how Amish kids attending their parochial schools “graduate’ as soon as they reach the age that the state requires a student to be before he or she can quit school.  Typically after leaving school the boys either work for their dad on the farm or take a construction job, while the girls will usually accept employment as a housekeeper or something similar.  Anna’s dad took half of her earnings as he took half of that which her brothers earned; she told me some Amish kids aren’t as lucky as she was - their fathers take all their paycheck.

Finally, she shared how she joined the church, which symbolically tied her to the community, and at nineteen was married to a young man named Amos, mainly to escape from her family.  Anna explained to me how that once she was married she had resigned herself to the fact that she would never be able to leave the Amish community.

Anna and Amos had talked things over and decided to secretly use condoms to prevent pregnancy until they were more settled, sort of an Amish version of family planning.  She explained that the lady she worked for and her daughter had allowed her to read their magazines and books, which was how she learned to give a man a blow job, at which she had become quite proficient servicing Amos, as well as other sexual positions.  Anna and Amos kept their marriage strong, vibrant and satisfying by using these other avenues to ecstasy that did not always involve penetration, avenues that increased their mutual love and knowledge of each other’s bodies, needs and desires, but yet avoided potential pregnancy.

But their families and friends pressured them, constantly asking why that after nine months of marriage she was without child; so Anna relented.

She continued to work for the same ‘English’ lady and her daughter until just a couple of weeks before she gave birth to her little boy and while Amos strongly objected, Anna returned to work just a few months after the baby’s arrival.

As is custom with many Amish communities for the first two years of a newlywed couple’s married life, Anna and Amos were living with his parents.  One day, Amos had come home from his construction job early, hitched the horse to their buggy, and with little Amos Junior in his arms, he set out to pick up his wife after she got off work.  Amos was driving the buggy on the way to the home of the English lady Anna worked for when a drunk driver lost control of his pickup truck and swerved across the center line hitting Amos’ buggy head-on and killing Amos and their son.  With no husband or child to keep her tied to the Amish community, Anna felt free to pursue her childhood dreams so she left as soon as she could, buying a bus ticket to a new way of life.

After Anna had shared her story with me; I was silent and just stoically stared at a distant point somewhere down the highway.  As tragic as her story was, how could I continue to wallow in my own self-pity, feeling sorry for myself after losing my wife to cancer?  Here was a young lady who had faced all sorts of adversity and yet was brave enough to leave behind everything she had ever known and set off into the unknown.

“Well?” she asked.

I suddenly realized that Anna was bothered, perhaps confused by my reticence; the deafening silence was probably more than impolite on my part.

Trying to demonstrate sincerity I explained to her, “I don’t know what to say, Anna.  I am so sorry that you have had to go through what you have so far in life.  I sincerely hope that the worst is over and wherever you go from here you find happiness, because you certainly deserve it.”

“You don’t think I have been a terrible person and that the sorrow I have found was a repayment for the things I have done?”

“What do you mean, your dream of leaving the Amish?”

“Well, that and the fact that Amos and I made love before we were married; you know the Bible says that is a sin.  Maybe God was punishing me when he took my husband and baby.”

“Anna, I don’t understand; if you think sex outside of marriage might be wrong, why did you allow me to bring you to orgasm then suck my dick until I came in your mouth?”

“Oh Chuck, when I first saw you I knew in my heart that you were a good man, one that I could trust, and...” Anna didn’t finish her thought, pausing for a moment.

“And, what else?”

“What’s the word you English use…Oh yeah, crush!  I always had a crush on one of Father's friends and you remind me so much of him,” she said with a girlish giggle.  Then with a more serious expression, “Chuck, when we brushed together in the hall, something stirred deep within me, something I had not felt since that first time Amos and I made love.”  Silent for a moment, Anna gathered her thoughts, “I realized how I had missed that connection, that feeling I have not had since Amos died.  That which felt so right was something I had to have.”

*

Some unknown person coined the word 'Boondock' to describe camping in a recreational vehicle while in a remote area or in the so-called “boonies” without the conveniences of hookups where one might plug their recreational vehicle into electricity or hook to water or sewer connections; in other words, there is nothing to “dock” to.  Walmart, Cracker Barrel, and a couple of other national big-box chains allow “boondocking” overnight in their parking lots, assuming there is no local ordinance forbidding such.  Walmart has so many stores just off the interstate that they have become one of the more popular boondocking spots for many RVers.  So much so the common vernacular in the RVing community is now 'Wallydocking' which is just what I had planned for tonight.

The little town, a nondescript bedroom community just outside Atlanta, was one of those bypassed by a new highway.  The one-time pastures and farmer’s fields, now bisected by the new roadway, had been paved over and developed into strip centers where new businesses opened and old businesses from downtown relocated out here trying to compete with the Supercenter.  Being a middle-class community there was quite a large complex of retail and service businesses surrounding the Walmart next to the interstate.  But then again the scenario we see here is repeated at hundreds of small and even big cities across the nation.  It seems that everywhere you go, there is one of these new retail developments.  As soon as you exit the interstate, you run into a gauntlet of stop lights and unusual traffic patterns, all of which make driving a forty-five-foot-long motorhome more than interesting.

Using Google Maps and my trucker navigational GPS, I had already “scouted” out the truck entrances to the complex and made my way to an apparently unused part of the big supercenter lot and parked my motorhome near a tractor-trailer whose driver also appeared to be ‘boondocking’ for the night.

Anna was elated when I offered to let her use my debit card to buy some new things.  Apparently, she left the Amish community in such a hurry she had been unable to find a moment since her departure to go shopping and buy some ‘English’ clothing so as to be able to blend in with all the rest of us.  The Amish people say that in areas where they live, most of us “English” don’t stare as we are accustomed to seeing them, but when they go somewhere that few Amish people visit, or when they encounter someone who has never seen an Amish person, they say that even those who claim to be progressive and inclusive can be very rude.  I thought getting some contemporary clothes to replace her long Amish dresses would make Anna feel so much more comfortable.

When she returned to the coach after shopping, I offered to go get us a pizza from one of the storefront restaurants surrounding the supercenter while Anna organized her purchases.  By the time I returned with the food she had put all her things away and once again she was setting the table for our gourmet meal: carryout pizza.

This time—unlike lunchtime—she wasn’t wearing my old sweatshirt; she had on a cotton tank top that was cut so daringly low under the arms that a good portion of Anna’s 36 double-D-cup side boob was showing.  Of course, the length of the nightshirt was designed to just cover the cheeks of her magnificent ass when standing, but when she bent over to retrieve something from a lower cabinet or even the bottom of the refrigerator, the hem would rise up high enough to give me a view that was outstanding.  The view was so erotic that my curiosity was aroused as well as my dick, wondering if that beautiful butt was wearing panties or not.  Nothing seemed to be visible that would indicate Anna had on underwear.

We made small talk as we ate, sharing funny stories and laughing at each other’s tales.  I began to realize that Anna was not only just a year or two older than my daughter Rachel but almost enough like her that they might have been sisters.  They both shared not only a near-identical physique but mannerisms and an infectious laugh as well.

Finally, we moved our conversation from the dining area to the sofa in the ‘lounge‘ area of the motorhome.  We each had been nursing a bottle of beer up to that point and I started to sit down on the sofa. Anna promptly took my beer away from me.  Sitting the half-empty bottle on the dining table, Anna sat down in my lap, her long shapely legs extending down the length of the sofa.  She casually draped her arm around my neck and leaned her head against the top of mine.  Her pussy was on my thigh and I could feel the heat of her sex practically burning a hole in my leg.  And the way she was snuggled up to me, my mouth was just inches from one of her gorgeous tits, its hardening nipple trying to push its way through the cotton tank top that was restraining the nipple’s freedom.

“I had made up my mind that once I was old enough, nothing was stopping me from leaving the Amish way, then I met Amos and we made love; before that, I never knew what it was to be with a man, or how much I liked it.”  Anna paused for a few moments, contemplating on her thoughts or perhaps trying to decide what to say or even if to say it.

“You and Amos are the only two men I have ever been with,” she said with a low, sensuous, almost gravelly tone of voice.  Looking at me with those big soft eyes that I found ever increasingly hard to resist, she confessed, “Chuck, I want you oh, so badly!  But I am just not looking for someone to take Amos’ place right now.”

I just ever so softly touched her lips with my forefinger as a sign for her to hush, she didn’t need to explain anything else to me, I wasn’t really looking for a relationship either but I wanted her just as badly as she wanted me.

Replacing my finger on her lips with my mouth, I kissed her and immediately felt her tongue probing, almost asking permission to enter my mouth.  I opened it to her and we kissed passionately.

Anna grabbed at the back of my head, running her fingers through my hair, and then pulling my head tighter to her mouth.  I ran my hand up under her tank top nightie and roughly squeezed her breast which elicited a moan from deep within her.  Relinquishing my hold on her tit I moved to the nipple, twisting, squeezing, then while pinching it almost roughly between thumb and middle finger I teased it with the forefinger until Anna shivered.  Moving to the other nipple—not wanting it to feel left out—I again roughly pinched the ever so sensitive bud, and then rubbed it back and forth between thumb and forefinger.

Moving from her lips to her neck I started kissing my way down her body.  Anna pulled away from me long enough to strip off the nighty revealing her totally nude body.  She turned and straddled my lap, her knees alongside my hips.  Wrapping her arms around my head she pulled my face to her breast.  I kissed and teased her rosy pink eraser-hard nipple, alternating between tweaking it with my tongue and lightly biting it, just enough to deliver pain that morphed into pleasure sending tremors throughout Anna’s body.  Arching her back to more accentuate her tits, she steered my face to the other breast forcing me to properly worship at that altar of pleasure.  Her breathing had picked up its pace and turned into moans of excitement.

“Oh god, Chuck, I can’t take it; fuck me now!” she all but screamed.

With her arms wrapped around my neck and my hands under her ass, I stood up and carried her to the bedroom.

I sat her down on the bed and she extended her arms behind her, palms down supporting herself in a sitting position.  Her feet on the bed, knees bent, and legs spread wide presenting her flower to me.  Her inner lips extending outward from her pussy and glistening from her wetness, like drops of fresh morning dew on an American Beauty rose.

Like a mad man I tore off my clothes and dropped to the floor on my knees grabbing her ankles and pulling her beautifully rounded butt to the edge of the bed.  Like a dog dying of thirst suddenly finding a spring to drink from I dived into her pussy face-first, lapping at the swollen labia.  The first long lick along the opening from bottom to top found her clit and she all but screamed from the sensations that wracked her body.

Her legs now over my shoulders, her feet in my back greedily forcing my face to her sex, I ran my arm around her leg and found her clit with my finger, while I alternated between licking, sucking and even slightly biting her pussy lips.  Rubbing and circling her sensitive spot was more than she could handle.  She arched her back as her muscles contracted, grabbing my head with her hands and pulling my hair with her fingers in a desperate attempt to find something to hold on to as she rode out the wave of the orgasm.

Sadistically I went back to work on her clit with my tongue while she was in the throes of orgasmic pleasure, the previous one not completely subsiding before the next wave hit a crescendo.  Finally, she could take no more.  Spreading her legs she pulled my hair like a warrior princess pulling the mane of her stallion, dragging my face away from her dripping cunt and forcing me to mount her pilgrim style.

Anna released her hold on my hair then near frantically reached between us grabbing my cock with her right while spreading her flower with the fingers of the left hand leaving the head at the open entrance as if to signal to me she was more than ready.  Slowly I pushed the head of my dick into her hot, wet tunnel and stopped momentarily, my girth stretching her causing her to instinctively close her legs on my hips, holding me there until the fire in her womb morphed into sensuous delightful pleasure.

As she relaxed and again spread her legs, I pushed to her depths in one slow continuous drive and stopped at the bottom.  She moaned with pleasure and dragged her short fingernails up my back.  Grasping the back of my head with her hand she pulled my mouth to hers.  Like a snake striking, her tongue raced into my mouth darting about exploring all that she could reach.  Her moans of pleasure came faster now, unable to escape from her mouth which was locked to mine.  Anna pulled her knees up as far as they could go touching my upper arms.  I began pumping in and out of her pussy like a machine, slow at first then picking up speed.

I could feel her muscles contracting, her pussy squeezing my dick as she neared the precipice.  Anna moved both hands to my chest and pushed me away from her luscious mouth, giving me the opportunity to roughly grab her tits and knead them like a baker kneads bread dough.  She turned her head to one side, her eyes tightly squinted shut and all but screamed, moaning in pleasure as she went over the top.  I could feel her hot juices bathing my cock, my pistoning in and out of her cunt forcing the river of cum to flow out and down the crack of her ass.

I continued my assault, ramming my dick in and out of her puss while roughly twisting both hard-as-rock tittie nipples so as to maximize the sensations maintaining her ride to nirvana.  Her hips now bucking, she grabbed my biceps and dug in her nails, the pain bringing me ever closer to the edge.

Anna hooked her ankles behind my ass and in sync with my movement, started pulling me harder and harder into her.  Moving her right hand from my arm she started fingering her clit as I rammed into her, heightening the sensation for herself as well as for me.  Once again her muscles contracted, her breasts heaved as her lungs demanded more and more air, she arched her back off the bed and she came, which was more than I could take.  My dick erupted pumping load after load into her.

When I had finally shot all that I had to give into her, I pulled out and fell to her side.  Lying there I watched in amazement as her tits shook from the convulsions that were still wracking her body due to the after-effects of the orgasm. 

Regaining her composure, Anna rolled to me and cupped my cheek in her palm and said, “Chuck, that was incredible.”

“No, Anna, you are incredible,” I argued as I pulled her to me and we kissed.

Placing her hand in my chest, she pushed us apart, “Chuck, my Amos was young and virile and strong, but you,” she paused and looked me in the eye; hers were in that soft dreamy state full of love and satisfaction.  “But you have experience that comes with age.  You know just how to please a woman and that girth of your cock; I didn’t know that they could be that big around.”

Not knowing if I should thank her for the compliment, I just smiled and pulled her mouth back to mine, our tongues dancing together.

Suddenly she swung her leg over me, straddling my body, her wet pussy on my flaccid dick, and then she leaned forward and passionately kissed me again.  Sitting upright again, she turned around and lay down on me in the classic sixty-nine position promptly taking my limp dick in her mouth while rubbing her puss on my face as an invitation to eat her again; without hesitation, I took the hint.

Between her licking our combined juices from my dick and me cleaning her cunt with my tongue, it didn’t take long for my limp dick to once again become hard as a rock.  Pleased with herself for having brought me to erection in record time, Anna again spun around and prepared to impale herself on my phallic spear.  Once she had the head of my dick positioned at her entrance, she dropped herself along its length.  Stopping only long enough to make sure we both were comfortable, she started bouncing up and down on my cock like a cowgirl riding a bucking bronco  Anna arched her back and closed her eyelids tightly, contorting her face in a grimace of sheer ecstasy.  Reaching up she took both nipples in her fingers and alternately pulled and twisted them using the pain she produced to heighten the sensations wracking her body.

The now seemingly insatiable Amish widow bucked and bucked her way to orgasmic pleasure, riding her horse for all it was worth.  She started with a low moan then increased the guttural sound to a crescendo of a scream, “Oh God, Chuck, I’m comeinggg,” as she reached the top and came, her muscles contracting on my dick. 

This was more than I could handle; my hips bucked uncontrollably slamming my cock up and into her as she came down.  I erupted into her womb, all but screaming a grunt sound, “Uh!” with each shot of my come. 

When we had exhausted ourselves, the orgasms complete, Anna pulled her cunt off my dick and fell beside me, reflexively falling into a position alongside me, her shoulder cuddled into my armpit, her head resting on my shoulder, her tits in my side and her leg draped over mine, her dripping pussy on my thigh.  Exhausted, Anna fell asleep in moments.

For a time I lay there thinking of the next day and what it would bring, secretly hoping that somehow Anna would stay with me and not go on her way.  As I fantasized about life with the young widow at my side, I fell asleep.

To be continued in Chapter 2: Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad