Kevin's Special Delivery Pt. 02

Lois, you wanton woman, I comically tsked at myself as my middle finger dipped devilishly into the entrance of my still somewhat tender vagina. I withdrew a rather wetter finger and slid it slowly uphill toward my clitoris. I could feel my heartrate quicken and my breathing became more rapid as I slowly ran my slender digit back and forth over the swelling nub, recalling that the last appendage to make contact with it had been Kevin's tongue. The boy was a natural and enthusiastic cunnilinguist.

My arousal grew as I continued to stroke myself there, pausing occasionally to remoisten my frenetic finger. My hips began to twitch and then gyrate in syncopation with my finger as I drew nearer to the ultimate destination. The combination of increased pressure on my nether nubbin and a firmer pinch of my left nipple pushed me over the edge. My hips and bottom arched upward of their own accord as the orgasm surged through me.

At the height of my climax, I found myself spontaneously calling out: "Oh YES KEVIN! Yes, Kevin don't stop. Oh Kevin that's wonderful!"

Heavens! It seemed my subconscious had made my own decision clear: I wanted more of Kevin. The only remaining question was how to make that happen.

* * *

I returned to work on Tuesday morning with a plan: get in early and leave a bit early so that I could stop into Conrad's on my way home before the store closed. If I were fortunate, Kevin would be there.

I took extra care to dress in one of my best business outfits and to spend more time than usual on my makeup. In addition, I wore one of my new underwear ensembles underneath it all -- not because I was expecting anyone to see it on this day, but because it made me feel sexy and confident.

All in all it was a pleasant day at work. My ankle was feeling a good deal better and I was in a very fine mood. Little did the other employees suspect that part of the reason that the usually prim and proper officer manager was smiling more than usual, was because she was wearing a saucy red brassiere and panty combination underneath her skirt, slip and panty hose.

Catching sight of those little red knickers around my ankles during a restroom break even made me do something naughty and certainly unprofessional: I gave myself a furtive fingering for a few stolen seconds before slapping my own wrist and pulling my undies and hose back up.

Dashing out of the office at 4:30 got me to Conrad's by about 5:45. I walked in the door and was delighted to see Kevin with his back to me, sweeping in one of the aisles. Jack Conrad was at the pharmacy counter and he greeted me warmly: "Hello Lois! Good to see you up and about. How's the ankle holding up?'

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kevin's body lurch at the sound of my name.

"I'm feeling much better, thank you Jack," I replied. "You and Kevin were very helpful during my recovery. He really came through for me."

"Glad to hear that," said the druggist, "any time we can be of assistance please let us know."

"Well, now that you mention it," I said, "I did want to ask Kevin if he might be available to perform a little bit of work around my place sometime when he's off-duty here. My ankle is still not 100% and I have a few things that need some attention."

By this point, Kevin had moved close enough to join the conversation. There was a definite deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes at first, but he recovered when I turned to address him directly. "Shouldn't take more than an hour or two, and of course I would compensate you," I told him.

"No issue with me if Kevin's up for it," Mr. Conrad interjected.

Kevin quickly agreed. "I'd be happy to give you a hand Ms. Green," he eagerly chimed in. "Tomorrow is my day off here, but you're probably working. I could come by in the early evening when you're home." The immediacy of his response and the urgency of the proposed scheduling pleased me very much.

"Thank you Kevin. That would be perfect. I should be home around 6:30. Do you remember the address?"

"Yes ma'am I do. Could I have your phone number though in case something comes up?" Clever boy! I took a business card from my bag and wrote it down for him.

The arrangements having been concluded, I thanked both men again and turned to leave. Jack Conrad headed back into the pharmacy but I could tell that Kevin was watching me depart. Did I put an extra little swivel in my hips as I walked toward the door? I believe I just may have.

* * *

My Wednesday at work was fueled by excited anticipation of the evening activities to come. Nothing could have spoiled my cheerful mood. I popped out at lunch time to make a purchase at a nearby downtown drugstore: the large tube of KY Jelly that I had decided NOT to purchase from Conrad's under the circumstances.

I again headed for home a bit prior to my usual departure hour so that I would have time to primp and touch up my makeup in advance of Kevin's arrival. For a few moments I debated whether I should honor the cliché and "slip into something more comfortable," but in the end I decided that the idea of being seduced out of my work clothes had more appeal to me. This was particularly in view of the fact that underneath my tasteful business suit, I was wearing a lacy black brassiere and panty combo.

I did decide to remove my panty hose in advance of Kevin's arrival, as I concluded that they might both unacceptably slow things down and also block what I hoped would be a much more provocative view.

For good measure, I even daubed on some of my favorite scent, L'Interdit, at the pulse points of my wrists and neck. I never wear perfume to work and hadn't had occasion to deploy it socially in quite some time either. Frankly, I was a bit surprised it hadn't all evaporated.

My excitement was running so high that when the buzzer by the door rang it startled me, and I jumped and squeaked. It was with slightly trembling hands that I pressed the button to admit my guest.

It appeared that Kevin ran full tilt up the three flights to my apartment, because his knock came less than 30 seconds afterward. I opened the door to find his fresh and smiling face somewhat flushed and his breathing slightly ragged. He was dressed in jeans and a maroon polo shirt and frankly looked delicious.

"Hello Kevin, so good of you to come so promptly," I said while ushering him in. "I've just arrived home from work, as you can see. Can I offer you some refreshment before I put you to work? There's ice water or lemonade. I'd offer you a glass of wine, but I don't want to risk arrest."

"Lemonade sounds great," he enthused.

"Lovely," said I, "Please make yourself comfortable on the sofa while I run to the kitchen, and then we can talk about what needs doing." Hard to believe I managed to say that without smirking.

I walked slowly to the kitchen in full awareness that Kevin's eyes were threatening to burn holes in the back of my skirt as I went. Returning with the drink, I placed it on a coaster on the coffee table in front of Kevin, immediately next to the flower arrangement he had sent me. I took a seat in the armchair across from him.

"It's very nice to see you again Kevin," I began, "what have you been up to since we last met?"

If Kevin was impatient with my idle chit chat, he was well-mannered enough not to show it. "Oh not too much," he replied. "Working mostly. Mr. Conrad has been nice enough to take me on full time between now and when I start college, so that I can earn some money for books and stuff."

"That is very kind of him," I acknowledged, "he's always seemed a good sort to me. Where will you be studying in the fall?"

"I'm going to Loyola. It's a pretty good school, and its nearby enough so that I can live at home and avoid having to pay for housing. At this point I'm thinking about majoring in English Lit."

"That sounds like a solid plan," I told him. "I'm a Loyola alumna myself. Class of none-of-your-business-when."

We shared a laugh at that. And then the conversation faded into a moment of awkward silence.

"So," Kevin interjected.

"So indeed," was all that occurred to me by way of response. I wanted to pounce on him, but my few remaining scruples were straining to hold me back. Or perhaps it was the old-fashioned lady in me determined that the gentlemen should make the first move.

"Um, Ms. Green," Kevin said tentatively, "I'm so glad you, uh, stopped into the store to, uh, ask me to come by. But before I do anything else I have to make a confession. I'm really embarrassed about this, but... um... I have something of yours that I want to give back to you."

Kevin reached sheepishly into the pocket of his jeans and slowly pulled out... was it a handkerchief? He pinched the item of cloth at one end and let the rest of it drop until I could plainly see that it was my missing pair of underpants!

I felt a strange mix of flattery and amusement at what Kevin had done, but my mischievous nature compelled me to react like a stern schoolmarm.

"Kevin Fitzgerald I am shocked and disappointed that a young man of your obvious good character would behave like a simple thief," I chastened him, barely able to suppress a giggle. "Whyever did you do such a thing, and whatever have you been doing with my very personal property for the past five days?"

"I am SOOOO sorry, Ms. Green. I really don't know what got into my head that made me walk away with your, um, underwear. I just kinda saw them lying on the floor and before I knew what was happening they were in my pocket. That's not an excuse, I realize, but I don't really know what else to say."

"As for what I've been doing with them since," he continued in a small, tight voice, "I... I'd really rather not say."

I let the silence linger in the room for a moment, before I said as sternly as I could manage: "Kevin, have you been using my soiled underwear to help gratify your sexual urges?"

His face at that moment could well have served as the illustration adjacent to the word "shocked" in the dictionary. Kevin slumped in his seat and lowered his head in shame.

Again I let a few more silent moments tick away before I gave him an order in a breathy whisper: "Show me!"

Kevin's head jerked back up. "What?" He croaked, his face a mask of disbelief.

"Show me Kevin. Show me what you did to yourself while you were holding my underwear."

"You want me to... you know?" I believe he almost started to make a crude gesture, but restrained himself at the last moment. Could I make him masturbate for me? It was wicked of me, I know, but I decided to find out.

"Yes, I believe I do know Kevin, and I want very much to see you do it. I've never watched a man pleasure himself before. Show me!"

We locked eyes at that point. After a few electric seconds elapsed, Kevin slowly stood up, without taking his eyes off mine. While continuing to hold my purloined panties in his left hand, Kevin used his right hand to unsnap and then unzip his jeans. The denim fell slowly to the floor leaving Kevin standing in a pair of blue-and-white-striped boxer shorts. He paused, but I persisted.

"Well?" I enquired.

Kevin's boxers joined his briefs on the floor and he stepped out of both, then picked them up and carefully draped them over the arm of the sofa. He then removed his tennis shoes and socks before turning back to face me. During this time, I had been witness to his now-familiar and quite beautiful young penis making the thrilling but brief journey from semi-flaccid to blazingly erect.

Kevin took hold of his hardened member with his right hand and began to slowly stroke it up and down, all the while looking me straight in the eye. After a few repetitions, he raised my panties to his face with his left hand, closed his eyes and inhaled through the fabric. A shudder ran through his thin frame and he picked up the pace.

I was a rapt voyeur, watching with complete focus as Kevin masturbated for me.

With his eyes squeezed tightly shut he continued to wank and I continued to watch. After a few moments he took a deep breath and, opening his eyes to look at me, exhaled in a husky whisper: "it's SO much better when I'm thinking about you!" My own body shivered at that admission.

As Kevin's pace quickened further I could see his knees begin to shake and the rise and fall of his chest become more rapid. He spoke again advising me, "I'm going to cum really soon Ms. Green, but I don't want to make a mess in here again."

"Use my underwear," I urged him. "Cum in them like you came in me."

And he did. He wrapped my cotton undies around the sweet head of his cock and continued to stimulate his penis until he cried out and began to fill the fabric with his seed. As his penis throbbed his breath escaped in boyish whimpers that filled me with longing for him.

His climax complete, Kevin looked at me with an unspoken "what now" running across his sweet face.

"I think you know where my laundry hamper is Kevin," I instructed him in a voice softened a great deal from my previous cartoonish dominatrix impression. "Give yourself a little rinse off while you're in there as well."

Kevin dutifully plodded off in the direction of my bathroom and I stared hungrily at the movement of his tight little buns below his shirt as he walked away. I got up, kicked off my shoes, and followed him, stopping at the door of the bathroom to watch as he did what I had asked of him.

When he had finished, I took his hand, drew him to me and began to kiss him passionately. I pulled him close, not caring that his recovering penis was likely making a mess of my skirt (what WOULD I tell the dry cleaner?). In between bouts with his tongue I somehow managed to tell him how much I had loved receiving the flowers and more importantly the note.

I broke our kiss again and apologized for my prior teasing behavior. "No worries," he told me, "you did scare me a little, but that was pretty hot!"

I suggested that we might just be able to find ways to make things even hotter. In response, Kevin gave me back a dose of my own medicine by growing suddenly serious and protesting in faux innocence: "But Ms. Green, I only came here to do some chores for you."

"That's right," I told him, willing to play at his game. "First, please pick me up and carry me over to my bed. Then I will give your further instructions."

I shrieked in delight as Kevin immediately swept me off my feet and maneuvered us deftly through the door of my bedroom before lowering me gently to the bed.

"What now madam," he solemnly asked in a comical attempt at a British accent, "would milady like me to scrub the floors or polish the silver?"

"Perhaps later young Master Kevin," I replied in character, "but for now, do you not think milady a bit overdressed for the occasion?"

"Forsooth I do ma'am," he agreed, "if her ladyship would deign to stand, I will endeavour to be of service in that regard."

I exited the mattress and stood before him. Kevin, ever the efficient worker, reached quickly to unbutton the jacket of my suit. He removed it and draped it over the chair next to my bed.

Taking hold of my shoulders, he turned me around and slowly drew down the zipper of my skirt, before lowering that garment to the ground and allowing me to grasp his shoulder for support as I stepped out of it. The skirt joined the jacket on the chair.

Kevin then turned his attention to the buttons on my starched blouse, using both hands to unbutton them from top to bottommost. Again he gently turned me around before carefully sliding the undone blouse from my arms and placing it carefully atop the other clothing on the chair.

I turned back to face Kevin in my full white slip. I wouldn't ordinarily have worn a full slip, but I didn't want my black brassiere visible under my blouse at work. Kevin took a break from his labors at this stage to enfold me in his arms and kiss me voluptuously on the side of the neck before moving across my cheek to press his lips against mine. "I don't know what that scent is, but it's driving me wild," he whispered, before pressing his tongue urgently into my mouth. I sucked on it greedily as he ground his body against mine through the silky shift.

I felt Kevin's hands searching the back of my slip for the non-existent fastenings that would help him remove the offending garment. Rather than prolong his torture, I reluctantly extracted myself from his embrace and pulled the slip up and over my head, tossing it cavalierly to the floor beside me.

This left me standing before him clad only in my newest purchases. The black brassiere was lace, with just a bit of infrastructure built in to help keep my meager but eager breasts riding high and proud on my chest. In between the cups was a small, blood-red embroidered rose. The matching bikini-style bottoms had similar lace in the waistband, with an identical embroidered red rosebud immediately above my... you-know-what.

Kevin paused to take a good long look. As was the case during our previous encounter, the room was filled with warm sunlight, which gave Kevin a clear view of every little thing: each freckle and goose bump on my quivering pale skin; my naughty nipples poking through the lacy fabric of my new bra; perhaps even the wet spot I could sense growing in the lower extremities of my new panties.

As he took in the scene, I saw Kevin's mouth form a "Wow," which he apparently lacked the breath to vocalize. When at last he did speak, he looked me up and down, then shook his head and announced appreciatively: "I definitely stole the wrong underwear!"

Kevin's manner then abruptly changed as he rubbed his hands together and declared in a louder voice: "Well, I think it's time I got back to work, don't you?" He peeled his shirt up and over his head and tossed it on top of my discarded slip.

Before I could say a word, Kevin moved briskly to me, gathered me again in his arms and hurled me into the middle of my queen-sized bed. Like a jungle cat he then sprang up onto the bed himself and pounced on me. He attacked my lips with a fervor I hadn't experienced in -- possibly forever. And I kissed him back with equal abandon, utterly disinclined to slow him down.

Abandoning my lips, he kissed his way down my neck until he reached my lace-encased breasts, which he immediately began to maul through the delicate fabric, his hands kneading in turn the breast not currently under siege from his lips.

Kevin then made his way back up my neck and murmured in my ear: "that bra is amazing, but I'm going to have to take it off." At his gentle urging, I rolled onto my side and Kevin only slightly clumsily undid the clasp. I pivoted again to my back and raised my arms to allow him to free the girls from their lacy cages.

The adorable look of awestruck wonder on Kevin's face belied the fact that he had actually seen these very breasts only five days previously. He slowed the pace of his onslaught to lavish them with meticulous attention, eventually drawing each pebbly nipple into his hungry mouth one at a time for a thorough tongue bath. I was over the moon!

At length Kevin ran his talented tongue between my thoroughly ravished breasts and traced a trail of saliva from there, through the heart of my navel, to the precipice of the lower line of lace. From there he continued using that tongue of his to trace the outline of those new black beauties along the waistband from side to side, and then south across the fabric to where he ran his tongue along the arc of each leg opening.

I was writhing by this point. Whatever teasing torture I had earlier inflicted on the boy was being repaid in spades.

Moving his fingers to the waistband, Kevin then pulled my bottoms slightly away from my body, lowered his nose to the gap and inhaled deeply. "Oh God, I love the way you smell," he panted, "that's the only perfume you really need!"