Belinda

byAshson©

George ran a carpentry and joinery shop, specialising in kitchen and bathroom renovations, although he and his boys were willing to turn their hands to anything that came up. They had a reputation as a firm that did good work at a fair price and completed it in the nominated time.

The last was why George was feeling slightly pissed. The Henderson job was going well, but slowly, and he couldn't put his finger on the cause of the delays. There'd been no sickies from the crew, no reports of delays in materials. Sparkies and plumbers had shown up as promised.

So why the delay?

He decided to have a chat with Noel, see if they could pin point the reason it wasn't finished. Noel was evasive.

Feeling more pissed than ever, George leaned on him, and Noel finally explained the problem.

"It's Mrs. Henderson," he explained. "She's a hell of a distraction and the boys find it hard to concentrate while she's there, and she always seems to be there. But it should be OK now. There's only the finishing touches to be done and one man can knock that over in a day."

"The trouble is," pointed out George, "that your crew is scheduled to start a new job tomorrow, and I guaranteed you'd be there and I need your whole crew there. I'll have to find someone else to go out and finish of the Henderson job.

You haven't mentioned why Mrs. Henderson is such a distraction."

Noel sighed. "If I tell you that the boys call her bouncing boobs Belinda, does that give you a hint?"

All he needed, thought George. One of his crews sexually harassing a client's wife.

"What is Mrs. Henderson's attitude to that," he asked, frustration plain in his voice.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, boss," Noel said hurriedly. "The boys are good as gold around her, but they can't help but watch when she goes past. Have you seen her?"

George shook his head, and Noel continued.

"She's what you call petite, but she's got boobs that stick out to here," he said, holding his cupped hands well in front of him. "She has this predilection for sloppy singlet type t-shirts, so there's quite a bit of boob on display. I'll swear she never wears a bra and when she goes past her boobs go bouncing about like a couple of basketballs under that top. The boys can't help but watch in case one of them bounces out."

"Where'd you ever learn a word like predilection, you untutored buffoon," grumbled George. "So you reckon anyone I send is going to be side-tracked by the sight of these bouncing boobs?"

"I went to bloody college and that's where I learnt big words, and you bloody know it," riposted Noel. "I could go and finish the job without being distracted. I'm happily married, so she doesn't affect me quite as much as the others.

Although it is a fascinating sight," he added, smiling reminiscently.

He grinned as George growled, and waited. George finally sighed.

"I need you at the new job. Let's go over the spec's and you can tell me the finishing touches still required. I'll go out there and attend to them myself."

Next morning George turned up at the Henderson's place and was admitted by Mrs. Henderson. He was willing to admit that Mrs. Henderson was cute and petite, and her chest did seem to fill out her top quite well, but as she was wearing a tracksuit it was hard to reconcile her actual appearance with the bouncing boobs Belinda that Noel had described.

Mentally shrugging, George settled down to work.

Half an hour later he was startled when bouncing boobs Belinda put in her first appearance. Mrs. Henderson came bouncing into the kitchen, her track suit gone, being replaced by Daisy Duke shorts and what appeared to be a loose singlet. And bouncing was a pretty accurate description of the way Mrs. Henderson entered, seeming to bound from one foot to the other, her breasts jumping around most energetically under her loose top, apparently threatening to burst free at any moment, but never quite doing so.

Suddenly George could see how his boys had been getting distracted. Giving Belinda the benefit of the doubt, he assumed that she didn't realise the effect her chest had on men when she dressed like that.

As she bounced happily out of the kitchen, George realised that there was another distraction. Her bottom rolled around in those shorts in a way that was an extremely effective eye magnet.

He raised his eyebrows in faint derision at himself and his reaction to that little pocket Venus, and got back to work, idly thinking maybe he should have been paying the crew danger money.

Fifteen minutes later she came bouncing in again, not obviously looking at him, but George noticed from the reflection in the oven door that she was peeping to see if he was looking. When he didn't turn to look at her she flounced out, bottom at full wiggle.

Half an hour passed and then George heard Belinda bouncing towards the kitchen again. Enough was enough.

Belinda came bouncing across the kitchen, a little smirk on her lips, noting with satisfaction that the carpenter was turning his head to look at her. She was taken aback when he spoke.

"How much?" he asked.

Belinda, blinked, confused. How much what?

"Excuse me?" she said.

"I was asking how much," George said blandly. "You seem to be advertising the goods so I was wondering what they're going to cost me."

He deliberately looked with interest at the breasts swelling under the singlet.

Belinda was dumbstruck. He hadn't really said that, had he? He had.

"I, you, insulting, swine, I never.." Belinda stuttered in fury, not sure what she was trying to say.

"You're saying the goods aren't for sale?" asked George, looking at her with an interested expression.

"Certainly not, and it's insulting of you to even suggest it."

"Well, you have to admit that you've been offering them for display pretty regularly," observed George, "both to me and to the crew I had here. You can't blame us for wondering."

Belinda stared at the uncouth workman, unable to believe he would talk to her like that. She was even more horrified when she found he wasn't finished.

"I have to admit it's always nicer when things are given freely from a generous heart. Why don't you take off that silly singlet so I can get a proper appreciation of those lovely bouncing boobs of yours? That's what the men call you, you know. Bouncing boobs Belinda."

Bouncing boobs Belinda? Belinda suddenly found out what it was like to feel flattered and insulted at the same time. Then the suggestion the workman made registered. Take of her singlet? Really, how could he suggest such a thing she thought, furious. It was one thing to walk past him with minimal clothing, but to take it off her top was something else entirely.

Belinda turned, flouncing out of the kitchen, only to freeze when she heard a derisive "cluck, cluck, cluck" behind her.

She whirled round on the oaf.

"Just what is that supposed to mean?" she snapped.

"Just that you seem keen to show off your abundant charms, but when someone calls on you to put your money where your mouth is you run like a startled rabbit. And yes, I know that's a terrible mixture of metaphors, but I'm sure you get the meaning."

George smiled, letting Belinda see he was silently laughing at her.

Belinda fumed, glaring at the uncouth barbarian. Chicken, was she?

With one smooth action Belinda lifted the singlet up and off, standing there with head high, knowing that her breasts were also standing high. They were nice and firm and had no gravity induced sag. That would come in time, she knew, but right now they were magnificent.

"Very nice," murmured George appreciatively. "Very nice indeed. Ah, would it be polite for me to remind you that you were also wiggling your bottom in a most pronounced way?"

Too furious with this oaf to think straight, Belinda just glared, then a quick snap of a catch and she was sliding down the Daisy Dukes, standing there nude bar a miniscule pair of panties.

A twirling finger caused her to spin around and push her bottom towards him. Chicken, was she? She knew what she had and she knew men appreciated it.

"Satisfied," she asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"No," came the unexpected answer. "You've gone this far, you might as well continue."

Continue? All she had left were her panties? Oh!

Belinda stared at the workman so blatantly admiring her figure. Did she dare take off her panties and stand nude in front of him? A complete stranger? Suddenly dry mouthed and feeling incredibly sophisticated and daring, Belinda reached down and wriggled out of her panties, standing facing the oaf naked, panties casually hooked over one finger.

"I know I'm repeating myself," said the workman, his voice a low growl, "but very nice. Very nice indeed."

Blushing, Belinda was stooping to reclaim her clothes when his voice stopped her.

"Leave those for now. Come here."

Walk over to him while she was naked? Fat chance, thought Belinda. Why he might do anything. Does he really think I'll just walk over there where he might grab me and maul me?

A finger lightly brushed across her nipple, and Belinda swallowed. She hadn't meant to walk over to him, truly she hadn't. The errant finger traced its way across to her other nipple, and then his hand ran down her side to lightly cup her bottom, before moving around to press against her mound.

"Good girl," a soft voice whispered. "You're doing well. Why don't you undo my trousers now?"

Belinda watched herself as her fingers drifted down and started undoing the workman's trousers. Zip down and she could feel him swelling just inside them. Pushing them down, and pulling down his underpants she saw his erection, standing tall and hard.

Shaking her head Belinda stood, trying to move away, but finding herself held in place by a hand resting lightly on her bottom. The hand pressed slightly and Belinda swayed forward, now feeling his erection pressing against her tummy.

George reached for and caught Belinda's hands. Time for her real lesson, he decided. He placed her hands on his shoulders, reached for her bottom, cupped her cheeks and lifted her.

Belinda found herself rising into the air, holding tightly to the workman's shoulders to keep her balance. Now he was pressing her firmly against him, his hands running along her legs, coaxing them to encircle him. She was, she suddenly realised, hovering over his erection. It had to be scant inches away from her pussy.

The supporting hands were withdrawn, and Belinda found herself sinking slightly. Not inches away from his erection, she found, but no space at all. He was pressing against her and sinking into her.

"Stop," she gasped. "You can't do this."

"I'm not doing anything," came the calm reply, while hands cupped her breasts. "It's all up to you."

Belinda felt herself slowly sinking onto his cock, feeling it filling her. Breathing hard she willed herself to hold tight and lift herself up off it. She could do it if she tried.

Belinda felt herself tensing her muscles, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to pull away from that lovely sensation stealing over her. It felt nice the way he seemed to fit within her so snuggly, gradually filling her, stretching her and filling her some more. Almost before she knew it, she was firmly transfixed by the man's erection.

"I'm George, by the way," came his quiet voice. "Now that you've mounted me, why don't you start riding."

"Riding you?" Belinda gasped. "I don't know how."

She heard a soft laugh. Then a hand smacked hard against her bottom and a voice cracked "Learn!"

Belinda squealed, hastily tightening her arms around his neck while pushing upward with her hips, feeling herself slide up his cock. A slight relaxation and she settled back down onto it, gasping.

Another smack on the bottom, and Belinda squealed again as she hoisted herself up his cock and then slid down. Not waiting for another spank Belinda repeated the action.

"I can do this," she thought smugly. "It's actually kind of fun."

Very soon she was bobbing up and down on George's cock, enthralled at the feelings she was generating inside herself. She bounced happily, wondering why she'd never tried sex this way before.

Her thoughts of riding to an orgasm on the nice rhythm she had established were shattered when a hard hand smacked her bottom again.

"Faster," she was commanded, finding the hand prepared to spank out the rate required if she didn't get a move on.

Squealing, Belinda bounced harder, frantically working her hands and hips to get up to the required speed. Breathing with relief, only to receive another spank and an exhortation to faster still.

Belinda was both gasping and squealing steadily now, not accustomed to taking such an energetic role when having sex. She couldn't maintain the pace, she just knew it, and squealed in fright at the thought of the spanks that would come if she slowed down.

Then George's hands were closing upon her bottom and holding her while he started thrusting up into her, driving her past her excitement and into a climax which she greeted with a loud squeal, feeling George coming deep within her.

Belinda clung to George, shuddering in the aftermath of her climax, reluctant to be let down onto her own feet. Then she felt herself being lifted up and away, left standing on two shaky legs.

She wasn't sure what to say, then George suddenly pulled her towards him and planted a firm kiss on her lips. Turning her around he gave her a swat on the bottom.

"Scoot," he said. "I have to get this kitchen finished. You can come back this afternoon and inspect the work."

Belinda found herself standing outside the kitchen, clothes in her hand. She blinked. Better have a shower and get dressed, she decided. She'd need her wits around her when she inspected the work. That barbarian just might try to take advantage of her.

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