91. Filled Stockings, Part Two

By MASTER WADE

Kerri snuggled closely to me on the ride out to the farm,
partially, I knew, in order to stay warm; but also because of the
bond which was forming between us. She had never seen my home
before, and as we drove down the old rutted-out driveway I was
grateful that her first view of it would come while it was clad
in the fairy-land adornments of the newly fallen snow.

The fire burned brightly in the over-sized old fireplace, giving
the large remodeled great-room a welcoming warmth. As I helped
Kerri remove her coat I saw her looking around the room at the
rather unusual decorating style I had chosen, partly out of
necessity and partly out of desire.

To the left of the fireplace and against the same wall stood an
oak roll-top desk which had been used for years in my
grandfather's insurance office. It was litered with typical desk
type clutter, the only unusual addition being several rolled up
sections of vegetable tanned leather which I suppose must have
been resting there temporarily on their way to my workshop where
they were supposed to reside.

In the corner stood a burgundy leather wing chair and matching
ottoman, the back of the chair scratched and torn by the claws of
an over-zealous Brittany Spaniel pup named Ticket who was never
as good at finding birds as he was at finding household items to
destroy. A ten dollar salvation-army-find table was next to the
wing chair, graced by a two hundred dollar brass lamp which shed
its light over an assortment of essentials (?) which included
harness needles of varying sizes, some scraps of sewing thread, a
can of Mink Oil, a leaning stack of old magazines and the cover
to the smoke detector which would be reinstalled whenever the
owner of the house got around to buying a new battery to replace
the one that had so rudely gone bad.

Taking up most of the end wall, and looked down on by a dusty but
still attractive old indian blanket which effectively covered the
cracked plaster in the wall behind it, was a long wooden table of
unknown origin and original purpose. In the center of the table,
in stark contrast to the old table and indian blanket was a very
modern computer system and the unavoidable collection of shiny
plastic boxes full of computer discs. With the exception of a
dictionary, thesaurus, a few other hardback books of various
types, and a half-eaten sandwich of indescernable age, the table
was relatively free of the type of clutter which adorned most of
the other tables in the room.

The walls on either side of the door through which we had entered
were used for the storage and display of a collection of firearms
and fixed blade knives in which the owner took great
satisfaction, and which was actually far too valuable to be
displayed in such a carefree manner. Directly to the right of the
entranceway was a series of pegs on which I hung Kerri's coat and
muff, moving the old army jacket and Moose River felt hat to make
room for the new additions.

The wall to our right was covered with an eclectic array of
prints, paintings and enlarged photographs, selected for no other
reason than that they pleased their owner. Standing proudly in
the corner here and covering most of the wall to the right of the
fireplace was a tall perfectly shaped blue spruce, well over
eight feet tall, its sharply pointed top nearly touching the
thick wooden beam which crossed from the front wall to the back
wall above it.

In the center of the room, directly in front of but well back
from the fireplace was an obviously broken in but very
comfortable three cushioned couch, littered with throw pillows. A
narrow walnut table ran across the back of the couch, supporting
two lamps and a well-chosen stereo system. Switching on one of
the lamps, I turned to see Kerri pointing at the big Grizzly Bear
rug in front of the fireplace and laughing.

"Where on earth did you get that?", she exclaimed.

"I was camped with my son in the wilds of Northern Quebec.
Suddenly this monster came roaring out from the thicket to our
right, and I barely had time to grab the rifle and shoot him. It
was quite a close call", I answered.

"Gosh, I'm really impressed! You shot it yourself?"

"Not really... it came with the farm," I admitted, smiling at
her. "But don't let the word get out. I'm quite a hero to some of
the kids in the neighborhood."

"Oh! You liar!!", she shouted and grabbing one of the pillows
from the couch she came after me, swinging wildly. I held up both
arms trying to protect myself, laughing at her sudden attack and
backing around to the front of the sofa. She kept after me until
she had backed me into the edge of the couch and pushed me down
onto it, straddling me and continuing to flail away. Finally I
was able to get the pillow away from her, still laughing so hard
that my stomach was beginning to hurt.

Almost as suddenly as she had begun the attack, she fell into my
arms and pressed her lips against mine feverishly, holding my
head in her hands, her tongue dancing against mine. Moaning
softly, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer to me,
feeling her slide the full length of her body down on my
stretched out frame. As she continued kissing me I let my hands
roam over her ripe young body, exploring her back through the
plaid flannel shirt which covered it, and sliding my other hand
down over her denim covered ass and onto her full thighs.

My hands made two delightful discoveries on their journey. The
first was that there was no bra under the shirt. The second was
that my friend the garter-belt was alive and well under the tight
jeans, straining to caress my hand through the tight material. I
made no attempt to hide my pleasure with both of these
discoveries, sliding the shirt from her waistband and running my
hand over the her bare back, and tracing the lines of the
garter-belt along her thigh and across the back of her jeans.

Kerri broke our kiss and sat up, supporting herself with her
hands on my chest and looking deeply into my eyes. I moved my
hands to her arms and let them rest there, smiling at her with
sincere warmth and appreciation. Her chest was rising and falling
as she caught her breath, a result of her heated attack and of
the excitement that we were both feeling.

"You know what I want, don't you?", she asked, still looking
deeply into my eyes.

"Yes, Kerri. And I want it too", I replied, honestly.

"I don't do this. I mean... usually I never let a man do anything
much on the first date. Really I don't."

"I know. Its okay, Kerri, I'm flattered."

"No, I really don't do it. Honest. Its different somehow with
you... here... now."

"Open your shirt, Kerri", I said evenly.

She didn't move a muscle at first, but just kept looking into my
eyes. Then ever so slowly she sat up straighter, arching her back
and began unbuttoning the flannel shirt, shaking her head
slightly as she began, her hair swirling with the movement, her
eyes closing. She unbuttoned two buttons and then before
continuing slid her right hand inside the shirt, and caressed her
breast behind the material. Removing that hand she inserted the
left hand in an identical manner, caressing the right breast,
rubbing her palm against the nipple, hardening it even further
before displaying it to me. She pulled the front of the shirt
from the waistband of her jeans and continued unbuttoning it.
When she was finished she held the shirt closed with her hands,
looking into my eyes once more, then laying her head back and
closing her eyes once more she took a deep breath and opened the
shirt widely, exposing her firm, full, naked breasts to my hungry
eyes.

Her nipples were rock hard and appeared to be nearly a half- inch
long in their excited condition. They begged to be sucked and it
was all I could do to keep from pressing my head to her chest and
filling my mouth with her soft flesh. I know she expected that,
and it was for that reason that I fought the urge. I tore my eyes
away from her nude chest and watched her eyes moving rapidly
behind her closed eyelids. Slowly I bent forward slightly, as if
I were moving my head to her chest and I watched the eye movement
increase and observed her mouth opening slightly.

I lay back once again, moving my hands from her arms and began
tracing lines on her chest, beginning at her shoulders and moving
downward on both sides with both hands. I directed the lines
straight toward her nipples, and only when I reached the swell of
her bosom did I allow the course to change, diverting it around
her breasts before continuing the lines downward to the top of
her jeans. I slid my fingers inward, allowing them to meet at her
navel and then moved them back upward again, both fingers
touching each other as they travelled straight up her chest,
passing between her breasts without touching them, on up to her
chin, and to her lips. I ran my fingertips lightly along the soft
moist skin of her lips and felt her opening her mouth and
touching the tip of her tongue against my fingers. One at a time
I slid each of my index fingers into her mouth, watching as she
sucked on them, her eyes still closed, her nostril's flaring.

"Don't move", I said, feeling her begin to move her own hands to
her breasts. "Don't open your eyes, don't move a muscle. Just
show me your breasts, Kerri."

She sighed audibly, hotly, but did as I had asked. Her mouth had
opened more widely now and her earlobes were darkening, giving
away her excitement. She arched her back a bit more, pressing her
rigid nippled breasts outward even further toward me.

My own excitement was obvious to her as well, I knew. She sat on
my lap and my swelling sex was pushing against her through my
pants, jerking at irregular intervals, assuming a life of its on.

Carefully I positioned the thumb and forefinger of each hand
above and below the nipple of each breast, and then in unison
clamped them down on the long hard nipples firmly, not enough to
hurt, but tightly and with unexpected quickness. She gasped, her
mouth opening wider, her head moving to one side, her chest
pushing outward toward me even more. I pulled the nipples out
away from her breasts and then released them, holding my hands
away from her once again, not touching her at all.

I waited, watching and observing, seeing her writhe emotionally,
as she tried to anticipate what touch she would feel next.
Placing my right index finger to my lips I wetted the tip of it
and very quietly moved my arm forward once more. With just the
tip of my now wet finger I touched her left nipple lightly,
spreading the wetness across the tip of it, rubbing it around the
sides of its tiny shaft. When I had spread the moisture on the
nipple, I raked my fingernail lightly across the wet tip,
watching Kerri close her eyes tightly and hearing her moan once
more.

"You don't have to do this... I'm so ready! Please, take me now.
Please?", she pleaded, her eyes still closed.

"Shhhhh... ", I whispered quietly, removing my right hand from
her chest and wetting the index finger of my left hand at my
mouth. I showed her right nipple the same attention the left had
recieved, watching Kerri's excitement begin to border on
frustration as the fingernail slid across the wrinkled tip of her
nipple.

"Do you have panties on, Kerri?", I asked, as I moved my hands to
her waistband and began unsnapping the tight jeans.

"No... No, I didn't wear any this time", she replied breathily.

"Do you usually wear panties under jeans, Kerri?", I asked, as I
began tugging at the zipper.

"Yes, I do."

"But this time, when you were coming to be alone in my house with
me you didn't wear them, is that right, Kerri?"

She swallowed hard and began to open her eyes and explain.

"Keep your eyes closed, Kerri. Tell me why you didn't put panties
on when you were dressing for me."

I had pulled the zipper down as far as I could get it under the
circumstances. The top of her black garter-belt was showing as
were a few strands of pubic hair below it. I ran my finger along
the v of her opened jeans, touching her skin and teasing her.

"I don't know why... I just didn't", she said quietly, trembling
slightly.

"You wanted to be naked there under your jeans when you were with
me, didn't you, Kerri? Isn't that it? Just like you wanted to be
naked under your shirt when you were with me. Am I right, Kerri?
Wasn't that it?"

Leaving her unbuttoned and unzipped jeans I clamped my fingers
down on her nipples once more as she moaned, trying to decide how
to answer my embarrasing questions.

"Yesss... ohhhh God! Yes, I wanted to be naked for you!"

I released the imprisoned nipples. "Stand up and take off the
shirt and the jeans, Kerri."

Her eyes opened, and her face flushed as she looked into my eyes
again. Slowly she rose and stood before me, glancing at the bulge
in my pants as she slid the red and black plaid shirt off her
shoulders and dropped it to the floor beside her. Bending, she
unzipped the boots down the side and slid them from her feet, her
full, perky breasts pointing cone-like toward the floor.

When she had removed the boots she stood once again, and hooking
her thumbs in the waistband of the jeans began tugging at them,
moving her hips from side to side senuously as she slid them
downward. She stepped from each leg, tossing them into the pile
with her shirt and then straightened once more, pausing to
readjust the garters at each stocking before standing in front of
me, her hands hanging gracefully at her sides.
