Thirteen (for Amanda)

I was thirteen. Amanda was thirteen times three, at a guess. What we shared was illegal, but neither of us regret.

Coming in from the rain, we got dry and she got wet. A rollercoaster of flesh and sweat. Minutes later the deed was done. Tell-tale signs and awkward thank you smiles. But, damn, that was fun.

Amanda returned to her comfortable life. Adoring mother and tolerant wife.

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