Amy Bred Ch 01 Meeting

CHAPTER 1: MEETING

"Mrs. Madison, welcome back. Will Mr. Madson be joining you soon this year?" Old Mr. Carson was always so polite. He has been looking after our cabin in the off-season, such as it is in the deep South lake country of Mississippi.

"No," I sighed, perhaps revealing a bit much more personal frustration than appropriate. "It looks like another summer of quiet and tranquility for me."

Mr. Carson must be close to 80 years old by now but still gets the place opened up for me in the spring, closes up in the late fall, and gives the place a security check periodically when we are not scheduled to be using it. He is shaking his head softly, not wanting to show too much either. With soft eyes he finally comments, "Not good. A man like Mr. Madison needs to learn to relax sometimes before he blows a gasket." Everything with Mr. Carson is mechanically related in his expressions. "It's why you folks bought the place to begin with, right?"

I, of course, could only nod and agree with the man. Sage advice falling on the wrong set of ears. I watched Mr. Carson climb into his ancient pickup truck that still ran smoothly thanks to his constant tinkering. He gave a final wave before driving down the long double-rut trail leading to the gravel and dirt road a half-mile away. This was a secluded location and what we had been looking for those years ago. Just the spot to relax and wash off the stresses of civilization, just as Mr. Carson had said. The lake isn't huge but is large enough to boat on and is said to be great for fishing. The surrounding land is mostly Forest Service land and the nearest private property is a quarter-mile away and seldom used.

I stood on the large front deck that overlooked the lake. Mr. Carson had insisted on helping taking my luggage into the bedroom and the groceries I had stopped for in the closest town to the kitchen. I had a lot of unpacking to do and getting the cabin ready for what looked like another solitary summer.

I loved the cabin, the lake, the boat, and the woods. Mostly, I loved being away from the city. I had even come to associate the cabin with NOT having Harold, my husband, around. The man had been a 'good provider' as the previous generation would say and it sometimes felt like that was when we were living. The man was always working. I mean ALWAYS. Undoubtedly, it was the reason for his success. We had a nice home, clubs, social contacts. But I've come to realize we don't really have a life. Not really. Despite talking about having kids, it never happened. We even talked about adoption but he always seemed too busy to spend the time required for the process.

So, here I was... again... another summer. Amy Madison, 40 years old, and feeling my biological clock ticking to a depressing stop. If I only had a child. I would be an amazing mom. My mom was and I have always been drawn to them with friends. A child to love and mother would be everything to give my stay-at-home with no responsibility suburban life real meaning. I tore myself from the railing of the deck to unpack my clothes. As I moved clothes from suitcases to the closet or dresser, I stripped off my driving clothes for more comfortable loose shorts and tee-shirt.

After stripping off, though, I am caught by my image in the full mirror fastened to the door. On impulse, I strip off my panties and bra. I've just turned 40. What a miserable time for a woman with so many yearnings still consuming her. No children to have ravaged this body and a husband who seems to have no interest in it. Not bad for 40, I think. My white skin is still pale but the summer sun will produce a golden bronze in no time as I always do. My long blonde hair will lighten as my skin darkens. My body is a trim 5' 4" and 100 pounds, a weight I am compulsive in maintaining. My 34-26-36 body is not only trim but still tight from a religious effort at yoga, jogging, and swimming.

Then, there's the rest... the fine points of me. How can they not entice that man? My blonde pubic hair is trimmed so my pussy lips are teasingly visible with my legs parted a bit. My breasts are D-cup and not the D-cups of some women. These are natural. These hang when I bend over, jiggle even in a fashion bra and bounce and sway when I run. Is the man dead, I muse in frustration? Why don't I have a dozen children by now? No, I wouldn't want a dozen, but seriously...

It started easy enough, innocently enough, too. The first few weeks seem to be the busiest with getting the place ready for spending the summer. Getting the real groceries with replenishing all the stock basics for cooking; gas and oil for mowers, weed trimmers, and the boat; opening what will be the vegetable garden with planting and enough care; and airing out and cleaning the cabin from the months of not being used.

I was outside working in shorts and tee-shirt, sweat opening my pores and soaking the shirt. The temperature already seemed to spike... early it seems... and the humidity suggests a possible storm building out in the Gulf. When I went in for a glass of water, I made an impulsive decision. I stripped off my bra before putting the damp shirt back on. Back outside, my breasts were unusually free, it felt freeing to me. At that moment, I committed to myself this summer would have more things that felt freeing for my soul.

My bra drawer became untouched after that except for going into town. That would have been too much. I lived in shorts with tee-shirt or sleeveless button blouses with several of the buttons left undone or old house dresses that I cut shorter. The feeling was wonderful, especially when buttons were left open top and bottom of the old dresses.

Then, another thing happened. I was toiling in the garden at the side of the cabin. I had managed to turn it over properly after several days of effort and busy seeding and planting. Tomatoes, peppers, carrots, lettuce, spinach, and herbs. I was wearing one of the dresses. They were cut shorter so when I knelt to work, the hem wouldn't get in the way.

"Excuse me." A voice, deep and masculine from behind me. I turned in surprise to find a tall, very black man in cargo shorts and shirtless standing at the end of the dock at the shore end. "I don't mean to frighten you, ma'am. I just wanted to introduce myself."

I stood and turned fully toward him. I bent to wipe my hands on the grass, unaware after several weeks by myself how the partially unbuttoned dress might gap as I did it. "You are?" I asked. "I don't think I've seen you around in other years."

"No, ma'am," he confirmed. "I was hired to do a major remodel of the Johnson place down the lake some." I knew the place. It had been several years since I had seen the Johnson family and now wondered if they might be planning to sell it. "I'll be here most of the summer tearing out and rebuilding much of the interior and fixing up the exterior where it needs it." I nodded. Without anyone using the place, it probably needed repairs. "I... ah... just figured... since I'll be around I should introduce myself. They are letting me use the boat and live on the property for the summer as I do the work so I'll be fishing past your shoreline some."

I stepped up to him and extended my hand. He clasped it firmly in the way a powerful man does without realizing it. "My name is Amy Madison. I'll be here the summer, too."

He smiled at seeing me relax. "I'm Ronnie Daniels. I'm a one-man carpentry business." He laughed. "The Johnson job will be great for future references to get my business going." He shuffled his bare feet on the dirt path at the end of the dock. When he did look up, it finally sank into me how much trouble he was having looking me in the face rather than other parts of my body. "Well, I should let you get back to what you were doing and get back to start my day." He turned but turned back again. "May I call you Amy?" I nodded with a small smile pushing to come out. "Amy," he continued with some kind of new excitement, "listen, I'm just down the lake if you find you need anything fixed. I've scheduled the project for eight hours and five days a week. I'm up early, often fishing, and end late afternoon. Plenty of hours of light if you need help." He got uncomfortable, again. "Sorry, don't mean to be pushy."

He turned quickly and I reached out and touched his bare upper arm. I've never felt so much muscle. He stopped. "Ronnie... thank you." He turned back. We stood less than an arm apart. "I do appreciate the offer. It is nice to know there is someone else out here in case." He smiled. His dark skin and the sun made it difficult to know for sure, but I thought I detected a blush.

I watched him climb down into the boat when I saw the outboard motor and wondered how it was I didn't hear him approach. I watched as he pushed away from the dock and quietly maneuver away before I noticed the electric trolling motor as he flipped a lure behind him. He glanced back as I stepped onto the dock to watch him head down the shore toward the Johnson place.

Girl, I thought as I followed his retreating image, what are you feeling?

I found myself back in the cabin for a drink of water. I ended up in the bedroom thinking I could run into the little town for a few supplies. As I passed the full mirror, my mouth dropped open and my eyes got large. I stood before the mirror seeing exactly what Ronnie would have seen. The thin, worn material of the dress was plastered to my breasts with sweat. Even my nipples, unprotected by a bra, were evident. The gap on top revealed expansive cleavage and the gap at the bottom was more pronounced than intended by another button undone somehow and most of one thigh exposed.

I shook my head from the strange feelings coursing through me and quickly shed the dress and panties for a quick shower. Even the shower now felt like a new experience. Oh, I've always washed every part of my body, of course, but my fingers seemed of a mind of their own in soaping and stroking my breast, nipples, and groin. I became lost to any thought. I leaned against the wall of the fiberglass shower unit, my fingers on nipples and pussy. Washing? When one finger, then a second, penetrated my ignored, unused hole, a shiver and flush washed over my body moments before an orgasm hit me like a thunderstorm complete with moanful sound and lightning flashes behind my eyes.

I pushed myself from the wall and leaned my forehead into the wall beneath the spaying shower head. God, how long has it been since I felt anything like that? Years, certainly, but how many?

I dug out fresh panties and a bra. I almost hated to put it on but I was going into the world such as the little town was. On the way back, I wondered what possessed me to add a 12-pack of beer at the last minute. My foot came off the accelerator and the car slowed. I looked to the side of the road at the narrow track leading into the woods. The Johnson place. A warm flush spread over me. What? Are you a schoolgirl, now? I pressed my foot against the accelerator.

I was waking earlier the last few days. I'd make coffee and take a mug out onto the deck overlooking the lake and sit against the cabin wall. There was no conscious planning involved. Still dressed in an old, thin, short nightgown, I sat in the early morning shade. The world seemed to wake around me. The sun getting higher, the birds more vocal, ducks cruising along the shore, sometimes even a deer or two graze between the lake and the cabin unaware of my presence. There was something else I regularly saw, too. A fishing boat would slide into view from the side. In the quiet... and listening for it... I could make out the quiet electric motor before the shape would appear through the brush and trees of the shoreline. Ronnie. Shirtless Ronnie, hard-muscled and black, he flipped his lure at the shore or dragged a lure behind the boat. Without fail, Ronnie would watch the cabin. Could he see me in the shadow as I sat quiet and unmoving? Or was he watching, hoping?

I was masturbating more these days. These days since Ronnie stopped by. I lay on the bed with fingers in my pussy, on my clit, and pinching and twisting nipples. I routinely orgasmed at my own touch. And... and I would routinely cuss out Harold for ignoring me, for not making me a mother, for treating his business rather me like his lover.

Ronnie stopped by, again. It was early evening when he stopped the boat and tied it off on the dock. This was new. He was still shirtless in cargo shorts. His legs, I noticed now, were as muscular as his upper body. I also noticed how his blackness shined as he got onto the dock. He waved. I waved back, a smile growing on my face and a shine coming into my eyes that made me feel like a schoolgirl. I was sitting on the deck with an ice tea. I had a thick, meaty stew simmering on the stove. I offered him ice tea. He was shy, uncertain, but ultimately accepted. I could see him smell the stew wafting through the screen door. I wondered what kind of food he ate by himself so I offered him to eat with me. There is more than a whole family could eat, I said.

"Amy, thank you, but... I'm not dressed... I should at least have a shirt..."

"NO." That came out too fast and too hard. "I mean... a lake is a place for casual and ignoring rules of decorum." I blushed. It wasn't a very convincing recovery.

It was dusk when he left. He insisted on helping clean up. Moving around and near his half-naked body had a predictable effect. I walked him to the end of the dock where the boat was tied. I reached out with my hand on his bare shoulder. He turned and we were face-to-face. I thought he might do something. All night he had watched me, watched my body when he thought I wouldn't notice. I was 15 years older than he was. Standing so close to him, a mere foot or so between us, I could sense his full 6'-2" hard, athletically muscled black body. About 210 pounds of hard muscle. Short black hair and dark eyes that seemed to bore into me and appraise me. Was it any wonder I felt the way I did? This beautiful man and he found me attractive enough to be shy around me.

I put my hand out. I landed on the slab of muscle that was his chest. I flinched at feeling it but held my hand still. "Thank you... for... ah... for stopping and helping." I thought it might happen yet when his large, strong hand rose to touch the side of my face. My head sagged into it unconsciously. He quickly turned and dropped into the boat. I watched him disappear around the point and behind the trees. I returned to the cabin on shaky, unsteady legs. My hands were shaking, too. They fumbled with the remaining buttons of the dress which fell open before I reached the steps up to the deck. Not able to open the screen door with one hand fondling my breast and the other inside my panties, I sank into one of the chairs, slouched with legs open. I masturbated to a noisy orgasm. Yes, it was dark but I was outside... outside masturbating... and it was so freeing.

It was only a few days later that I made my own move. God help me, this was a deliberate move. I planned carefully. I was up early as was now usual. The coffee was ready, so too were two mugs sitting on the counter. I had gone through the nightgowns I had for the cabin, all were older and worn thin. It was the cabin, after all. I had selected the one I wanted the night before. It was an especially thin, very short gown that was nearly see-through with a deep neckline. I had the routine down. We probably both did as he had let slip that he could indeed see me on the deck in the mornings he fished by. At the right moment, I filled both mugs, hip-checked the screen door to open, and marched off the deck, down the worn path, and out onto the dock where I found Ronnie in the boat cruising close.

He stopped the little electric motor and he drifted closer. In the early light, I could see the question in his face... probably a lot of questions. I held up the two mugs, "I thought maybe you'd like some morning coffee."

He drifted closer and I stood my ground at the very end of the dock. With the rising sun behind, I wasn't sure what he was seeing but it was undoubtedly more than he should. Also, the gown was short enough to cover my ass by only five or six inches. His head as he reached for the dock post was at my knee height. With the boat bumping the dock, I parted my feet for balance. Realizing what I did I blushed anew and I saw how his eyes were fixed on not the dock or my face.

"Here," I said as I bent low to offer him the mug. His attention was broken from the hanging hem of the gown to the gaping and sagging gown above. His eyes were torn between grasping the offered mug and the sight before him. I knew because I had practiced it. I knew he had a clear view of my D-cup naturals hanging before him. I might not have been able to tell if he blushed or not but I knew I was and I was pretty sure he could tell.

I set my mug on the surface of the dock and awkwardly sat at the very end with him in front of me. I was pretty sure what I was showing him then, too. I hooked my feet over the side of the boat so he could release his grip on the dock and enjoy the coffee. After a few moments, we got past the awkwardness of what had just happened.

When our eyes could lock onto each other's, "I really enjoyed the other night, Ronnie. I enjoyed your company a lot."

He smiled and kept stealing glances at my body. My thighs had relaxed and parted slightly while holding the boat close and shifting on the hard edge of the dock. I caught him looking between my thighs and at my breasts. I glanced down to see the nipples clearly outlined. I was 15 years older and he was reacting this way to me and it excited me to realize that. Out on the lake, another boat raced by sending its wake to us. It wasn't a big boat and it wasn't a big wake but enough for Ronnie to suddenly react to the unexpected disturbance. He reached out for support and caught my thigh just above the knee. We both looked at his black hand on my white thigh. I moved my free hand and placed it over his before he retracted it. I didn't know why it felt good. No, I knew why and it felt very good.

I pressed his hand against my thigh then pulled it inches higher along my skin. He leaned closer to adjust for my moving his hand. He looked up into my eyes but felt his hand move as my leg moved to the side. He looked down to the surface of the dock to see that my legs had parted further. Without panties on I was giving him the view he had been trying to sneak.

I grabbed the dock post to awkwardly pull myself to standing up. If I had any question about what he might have seen of my pussy before, there was none now. I bent at the waist toward him. "Do you have to rush back?" I asked. I could see the gown hang down to expose my breasts underneath. He was unable to do anything other than stare as my D's hung before him.

He mumbled something closer to a moan than a word. He finally looked up. "No... no, I don't have to rush."

He gave the line and I tied his boat off on the same post. He stepped out of the boat right into me. I didn't budge but trapped him at the moment. My breasts pressed into his chest with only the thin material of my gown separating us. I took his hand and turned to the cabin. After a half dozen steps he stopped.

"Amy... maybe I'm reading this wrong... if so I apologize but... but are you sure?" he managed to get out with eyes that were simultaneously reflecting concern and desire.

I stepped into him, again. I pressed into him and raised my face to his and we kissed. I hugged him tightly, my hands stroking over his bare back. I grabbed his hand and turned back to the cabin. I called out over my shoulder, "Any questions?" There was no verbal response, just him rushing to come alongside me.

The screen door slapped shut behind us nearly hitting Ronnie as I turned upon entering the cabin to again press myself against him, this time with my arms encircling his neck and my lips pressed desperately into his. I kissed him with a hunger that could only come from years of yearning for just this kind of response. He wrapped his strong arms around me and hugged me tight enough to lift me off the floor. That first kiss lasted a full minute if anything. It was the outpouring of hunger and desire. I looked up at him after the kiss and read his eyes. I became shy for a moment and hesitated but he raised a hand to my cheek and stroked it softly. He smiled and gave me a nod.