(Two and a half weeks after the end of part one....)
*
"Are you completely out of your mind Amanda?" Amanda muttered to herself from her side porch as she gazed across her driveway at the Henderson's back door. She stole a glance out towards the street; empty, but not entirely deserted on a Tuesday spring evening. Then it was a long look up at Harold's bedroom window on the second floor, curtained and shaded as if no one was home. Then to their back door once again. Finally, Amanda forced herself to look just to the right of the back door and directly below the bedroom window at Harold Henderson's latest step too far.
A 15-foot wooden ladder.
Harold had told his mom and dad he wanted to paint the window sill now that he had finished painting his room. The fact that it had been left there for days they simply chalked up to their son's usual teenage procrastination. And certainly not to the reluctance of a close friend and neighbor to climb up it and fuck their 18-year-old son in his own bed.
Amanda shivered. That was something she did often now; whether from fear or lust she could never tell.
The "bed" part of the plan had been her idea. In the days since their first fucking (shivers!), Amanda had hosted Harold on her couch, in the kitchen, in the enclosed backyard porch and of course several times in her garage again; always the nearest safe place Amanda managed to drag Harold when he came by and got hold of her. He was insatiable and seemed heedless of the possible risks. For her part, Amanda hadn't yet chosen to dwell on where it was all headed. The ramifications and the orgasms were simply too large. Walking on both air and denial, Amanda was past serious thoughts of "no". She still said "no" all the time, but only because she suspected Harold liked hearing it.
Harold never failed to leave Amanda weak in the knees. But she wanted to be weaker. She wanted several hours in a safe place, where she wouldn't have to stand and Harold wouldn't have to stop. There was her bedroom, but the idea of sex with her young lover in her marital bed reminded Amanda of those messy ramifications. So Amanda asked Harold if there was ever a time when both his parents were out of the house and she could visit his bedroom. That got Harold thinking as only a teenager would, and a couple days later he showed Amanda the ladder. "It makes sense", he told her, "Even if we got you into my house, you would be trapped in my room. You need a way both in and out. This is perfect."
Perfect. Perfect for a horny teenage girl on a Saturday night dare maybe. Or a college fraternity prank. For a 31-year-old married suburban woman, his neighbor, his mother's best friend... (Shivers!). The ladder was clearly visible from the road! If anyone she knew saw! If anyone even suspected ... or if Harold's mom were to come strolling out of the backdoor of her house with the garbage, look up and see Amanda climbing...
So Amanda had said no, really no. Harold didn't believe her, and Amanda kept saying it, for two days now. Two days, where Harold hadn't found an excuse to come over or to put the ladder back in the garage. At first Amanda marveled at his arrogance; did he actually think she would break down first; that she would be more desperate for sex than a teenage boy? Seriously? Then again. It occurred to her that a 6'6", seemingly-chiseled-from-stone, high school athlete like Harold wasn't necessarily dependent on Amanda for sex. That was the thought that shook Amanda to action. When her husband announced yet another 3-day turnabout sales trip, she barely managed to feign disappointment. When she called Harold and told him she would try the ladder, he sounded pleased but not surprised.
Tired of brooding on it, Amanda stepped off her porch and casually approached the ladder. The driveway was long; a driver would have to be looking straight through the gap between the houses to see her. Amanda was probably safe from casual glances. Probably. With a last look all around, Amanda stepped on the first rung. Easily done; Amanda reasoned that the first or second rungs weren't dangerous. If someone caught her she could say...something like... she was just hanging about. Maybe stretching her calves for one of those power walks everyone in the neighborhood seemed to be taking lately. Beyond the 2nd rung the explanations would get much weaker.
So on the 2nd rung, Amanda fixed her eyes on the Henderson's backdoor, and her ears strained for any sound within that would indicate Greta. Harold's mom Greta, was an imposing woman, platinum blonde, and almost as tall as Harold. She was an independent businesswoman, and her appearance seemed to exude confidence and control. Most people found her cold, matter-of-fact disposition intimidating and she didn't have many close friends. Amanda often wondered why she had sought out Amanda's company. Other neighbors called them the odd couple. Still Amanda had grown to value her friendship and could not imagine a worse person to catch her doing what she was doing right now.
Amanda considered her vibrator in her bedroom and the safe and perfectly acceptable orgasm it could provide her. A mistake; thinking about sex just invited a comparison of that familiar plastic climax with the manhandling that awaited her at the top of the ladder. Third rung. Fourth rung.
She was committed now she told herself, as she climbed up the fifth and the sixth rung. Then a slight fear of heights and the wobbling of the ladder made her hesitate. Was that a car?!! It was a blue one, maybe the Scott's from down the street? Did they see me? Oh God, what if they did? Seventh rung, eighth. Another car! 9th, 10th 11th rung! Amanda put her hand on the bottom sill of the window. She was completely exposed now. What's that sound?? 12th rung. 13th. Amanda tapped as lightly as her trembling hand could manage on the window.
The window opened instantly and a smirking Harold Henderson emerged. "Amanda?" he exclaimed loud enough to make Amanda wince and look around, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Harold!" Amanda hissed back, "Let me in before someone sees me out here."
"You want in?" Harold asked mischievously, reminding Amanda just how much of a child he still was. "Why? What are you going to do in here?"
"Harold!"
"Tell me Amanda," Harold ordered, relishing the sound of her first name, which he only started using after years of "Mrs. Greer". "What are we going to do in my room A-man-da?"
"Fuck!" Amanda said as loud as she dared (Shivers!), "Harold you know it. We're going to fuck, you know I will, please stop teasing. Just let me in before someone catches me!"
Those were magic words and seconds later Amanda found herself in the relative safety of Harold's bedroom basking in a deep-throated kiss that she had not tasted in days. Harold wasted no time pulling down her shorts and cupping her ass cheeks, his fingertips dipping into her wetness. Amanda returned the favor, unlocking his belt, unzipping him and reaching in. What she found there, she cradled in both hands.
A quick flurry of falling clothes and the two lovers were covering each other's nakedness with their own.
"Hey," Harold whispered between tongue sucks, "Where are your panties?"
Amanda smiled. She had learned repeatedly what happened to her underwear around Harold. "Disappointed, you're not going to rip another pair apart?"
"Yea," replied Harold responded forlornly, rubbing the palm of a calloused hand about her right nipple, "I like that part."
"I'll make it up to you." She lowered herself, not quite to a knee. Harold's height relative to her tiny frame, put his balls just over her head when she kneeled. She had to half-kneel, half-squat to get to it properly. It was worth it. The sharp musk of Harold's pubes filled her nostrils as her tongue gently lapped at his balls. Harold's breath caught and he put his hands on Amanda's head.
"You had better NOT stop doing that," Harold growled.
Amanda stopped. There was a sound, footsteps! She scrambled to her feet then dove down again behind the side of his bed, "Oh god," She hissed, "Harold, someone's coming!!"
The footsteps grew louder, down the hall, and then subsided again.
