Grace Takes a Time Out Ch. 07

"Hey sailor, you must have been saving that up for me!" she says cheerfully. "Need a break? You can help me out of this dress, if you want." She starts to stroke her crotch with one hand. "Or you can watch. Or you can just do me as I am. What'll it be? Customer satisfaction is my number one priority." Another inviting smile. He doesn't say anything but comes close to her and starts to run his hands over her, feeling her every curve and texture through the dress. "Peel me from the top down or the bottom up. Your choice."

"I'll start at the bottom, I think." And he kneels down in front of her, places his hands on her thighs just above the knees, and slides them slowly up, all the time looking up at her - now it's her turn to breathe heavily with anticipation. His hands get to the bottom of the dress and start to roll it up, like putting on a condom but in reverse. As he goes up, slowly, his hands cover every newly exposed part of her. She's got nothing under the dress. He keeps on until he's above the top of her pubic hair and pauses and looks. Then his head moves forward and he licks her lips; she shivers. "Spread 'em, Miss Honey," is all he says, and he nudges her legs on the insides of the thighs so she knows what he wants. She moves her feet, her legs, her thighs apart and he presses in further, tilting his head to get the best angle and deepest penetration for his tongue. She pushes back against his face.

"You're getting warm, sailor. That honey's in there someplace. Might be a cash-back rebate for you if you can ring my bell."

"Perhaps I should be a gentleman and invite you sit down and relax in that comfortable chair, Miss Honey, while I look for my rebate?" She backs away to the chair, sits toward the front of the seat so she can lean back, spreads, and when he's close enough lifts her legs to drape over his shoulders. He grips her by the tops of her thighs and pulls

himself in.

"Ohh ... ahh ... there ... yes!" she keeps up a patter as he works between her lips with his tongue. After a couple of minutes she is squirming and moaning as he enjoys the now-familiar taste, smell, and feel of her. She cries out a guttural moan, pushes against him, and stiffens. He pauses for a moment, draws back, and stands up before her; she looks up at him with a smile, and at his erection, now fully returned and charged. "You may just have earned that rebate, sailor."

"But Miss Honey, I still got my fuck a comin'." He says in his best country hayseed voice.

"That you do sailor." She stands up in front of him. "Just peel this dress off me and choose your position." She raises her arms so he pulls the dress up and over her head, watching in admiration as her firm breasts drop out when he raises it, and of course, the cash. She makes a move to pick-up the money but he stops her:

"It's not going anywhere, Miss Honey. You just lie down here on your back on this nice carpet and let me screw the bejezus out of you - that's what I paid for and that's what I'm a gonna do." And he looks her in the eye with such unconcealed lust that she is both surprised and further aroused.

She gets down on her back, raises her knees, legs apart: "Rock my boat sailor, but I'm keepin' the shoes on." He gets down above her, goes down on her again for a minute or so and she pulls his head further down into her. She makes more noise, then he moves up along her body, kissing, licking, and sucking her in various places as her goes, and thrusts into her. Hard. She inhales sharply. He starts slowly, not quite so hard as the first stroke, but gets into a rhythm that is steady but he moves his hips, varying his angle or circling around. Gradually he goes faster. She rakes his back with her nails and raises the shoes high above his waist on her feet. She moans, she calls out, she turns her head back and forth right and left on the floor. He presses harder and deeper at every stroke, his arms are under her back as he grips her shoulders tightly until she shouts out louder than he has ever heard her and she clamps down on his erection and her body stiffens. In another stroke he comes, powerfully, his ejaculations one after another feeling like he is emptying vast quantities of himself into her, and calls out to her. They are still, then they're done, just lying there on the floor panting.

Finally, he rolls off onto the floor beside her; they are both still panting. After another couple of minutes she says: "Any of that champagne left, sailor?" He looks around, sees the bottle is still about a third full, and pulls himself up onto his hands and knees, then stands and goes to get it and the glasses. He offers her a hand and pulls her up, hands her a glass, and pours. She leans in and kisses him, a long kiss.

After the kiss: "God, these shoes are killing me!" she says in her normal Grace voice and she kicks first one, then the other, off. "How do women manage them?"

"I think it was the nail polish that did me in. It looks good on you, especially when it's all you have on." says Peter, looking her up and down once more. He sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him to indicate she should sit next to him. She does, and turns slightly away so she can lean her bare back against his while sipping her champagne.

"Next time," she says reflectively, "it'll be your turn to dress up."