Getting Comfortable

I’m lying in bed mid-afternoon daydreaming trying to catch forty winks after a gruelling nightshift, almost deliriously tired but still can’t seem to drift off to sleep. I feel wired, buzzed, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. I try putting my finger downstairs to relieve some tension but even orgasmic release seems to be just beyond me at the moment. It’s just then, with one hand down my panties and one playing with my breast that I hear a knock on the door. I know I should ignore it. That’s the nightshift discipline. Ignore daytime visitors or you’ll end up paying for it at the nursing station.

Nevertheless I throw on some tracksuit pants and a t-shirt and stumble downstairs. Just after the bell rings a third time my hand reached the doorknob. I open the door just as my visitor seems to be giving up and turning away. I am pleasantly surprised to see a very round firm posterior with a pair of nicely slender yet rounded legs supporting it. Legs have to be fit to support an ass like that! Even in jeans it was obvious this young girl was well put together. She turns to me and in my fatigued state it feels like she’s moving in slow motion. Clutching several magazines to her ample bosom her body seems to sway for balance as she turns adding an extra toss to her head to keep her long dark hair from her face. How pretty! She is all oval faced, pixie nosed, dark eyed, olive skinned sweetness. My breath can’t help but catch in my throat.

“Excuse me ma’am,” she says, smiling nervously, “I hope this isn’t a bad time. My name’s Samantha and I’m in the neighbourhood offering subscriptions to some popular magazines and I was hoping I could spend a few minutes showing you our collection.”

No sooner had she started speaking than I was grabbing her by the hand and practically dragging her inside. She finished the last part of her spiel more than a little bemused as I closed the door behind her, tempted to lock it and swallow the key. I was thinking that spending even a few minutes with this gorgeous girl would be enough to fuel my masturbatory fantasies and get me the relief I so sorely needed. If I had to buy a magazine or two at this stage I didn’t really care.

“I’m Isabel, please sit down honey. Can I get you something to drink?” She accepted a glass of water and in no time we were seated together on the couch perusing the magazine set laid out on the coffee table. I took every opportunity to steal a glance down her very short jacket or when she leaned far enough forward I caught the occasional glimpse of frilly pink panties down the back of her jeans. I was so tired my inhibitions were lowered to the point of being non-existent and I took so many liberties it was a miracle she didn’t catch on.

Young Samantha seemed extremely grateful for the opportunity to actually get past the door with a potential customer. Apparently her morning had been pretty slow. Not too many takers for women’s fashion and gossip rags round these parts. Apparently the occasional guy had invited her in, but they weren’t so much into the magazines as they were into the lovely purveyor. I felt a little guilty when she said that, emphasis on ‘little’. I may not be into guys myself, but guys and I did have some proclivities in common.

“So which one would you like?” she asked after a time. I had narrowed it down to three possibilities, a trashy celebrity gossip magazine, something about homes and gardens and a sexy lingerie catalogue.

I fingered the lingerie catalogue delicately as though trying to decide. If I was going to subscribe to anything it to humor this girl I would at least get something of value to myself. But I didn’t want to decide just yet. I wanted some more quality time with Samantha before she disappeared from my life to wherever she came from.

“Not sure, honey, just let me have another look for a bit, ok? If you don’t mind waiting around with me, that is?” I asked smiling.

“Sure take your time, I’m enjoying myself anyway. Better than door knocking that’s for sure. My supervisor wouldn’t appreciate it, always telling us to hustle, but she’s a bitch. Oh God did I just say that?” Samantha covered her mouth surprised at herself waiting for my reaction.

Up until this point I had been the quintessential cordial hostess, nothing blue passing my lips. I grabbed the opportunity to make a connection with Samantha and put her at ease, “Oh please, whose supervisor isn’t a bitch? I’ve been nursing for fifteen years and head nurses are as bitchy as they come!”

Samantha giggled, visibly relaxing. Totally on impulse, I continued, “Hell I don’t mind if you stay here this afternoon. I’ll buy a bunch of magazines and you can tell your boss it was a slow day. She’s hardly gonna fire you with a few sales under your belt.” What was I thinking? I needed sleep not a an afternoon wasted on the pipe dream of imagining getting into the pants of some teenage hottie probably still in high school.

Thankfully she turned me down. “No I couldn’t really. I’m supposed to reach a quota of houses and besides, I only really want people to buy a magazine bursa escort if they really want it?” Is that why you wear that tight top under that jacket then, so people will look at the magazines? I thought.

“C’mon, how’s she gonna find out?” What was I saying? Sleep dammit. You need sleep. “I’ll fix us some drinks and we can share some girl talk.” I started making my way to the kitchen.

“But the magazines,” she protested feebly. “My job…”

“Oh don’t worry I’ll buy a few. I definitely want that one.” She was holding the lingerie catalogue. “Besides, you shouldn’t be working this door to door job, with your looks you should be in that magazine. Hell I’m sure any magazine would sell if you were in it!” I had my back to her when I made that last remark so I didn’t see her immediate reaction. The tiredness was making me bolder than usual.

When I returned with a wine and soda for both of us I half expected her to have run away. Instead she was just where I left her, sitting pensively on the edge of the couch with her knees drawn up together, almost like she was side saddle on a horse. Without looking up at me she took the proffered drink and sipped at it absently then quickly placed it down on the table grimacing. “Alcohol! I shouldn’t be drinking on the job.”

“But I thought you were going to stay here with me for a bit,” I countered.

“C’mon, I don’t want to be the only one and besides it’s just one drink.” God what was I, a college boy on the make? I was so dazed from tiredness I was allowing my seductress’ instincts free reign, and on some level that I didn’t care about right then I knew I should feel deeply ashamed. All that I could really register was that I had actually gotten this girl to consider sticking around and that she had taken her first sip. The adrenaline alone was boosting my alertness levels no end, but my inhibitions were still way down. I picked up the drink and handed it to her. “I won’t tell if you won’t, deal?”

“Ok, one drink,” she said smiling nervously. Her eyelashes batted nicely when she was nervous. What was there to be nervous about around little ol’ me? Ah yes, the lingerie comment. I wonder what she thinks about that. I start hoping we’ll get to that topic, but with the greater alertness I was feeling came greater caution. This whole encounter was so surreal I was beginning to wonder if this might turn into something more than a pipe dream after all.

“So why are you doing this job Miss Samantha? You don’t seem totally into it if I may say.”

“Argh,” she sighed, “Parents! As if I don’t have enough to worry about with my last year of high school. The say a job will build character and it was either this or flipping burgers, and there’s no way I’m working in a greasy fast food joint.”

Ok so she’s a little snobby, I thought, remembering my time at McDonalds. But she was way too cute for me to worry about minor character flaws. I for one had no desire to complain as she downed more than half of her drink rather quickly. I had barely touched mine.

“Your folks may be right for now, but what do you want to do with your life beyond this and school then?” Was that too preachy? She didn’t seem to mind the question but she was less than thrilled to answer.

“You mentioned I should do modelling before,” Samantha said with the slightest trace of a blush. “I’d love to do that. I even went to an agency before taking this job, but they told me I was too short. They said the big breasted, big assed Latina look was for pop stars and Men’s magazines, not the fashion world. They gave me a number but I threw it away. I can’t sing and I’m hardly porn star material.” Oh I don’t know about that dear, you can star in my feature any time.

“That’s such a shame! You’re gorgeous, but I suppose fashion is about the clothes and your assets might be a bit…distracting.”

“You mean my ass!” Samantha blurted, giggling. I joined in the laughter.

“That’s exactly what I mean, hell your ass is distracting me even with you sitting on it!” God I’m still blurting things out, and tapping her knee it seems, but it occurred to me that if Samantha knew my intentions or was really skittish she probably would have bolted by now. Still giggling she did look at me a little confused, but I paid her no mind and went to refill her glass.

“Hey I said one drink!” she called out, not too forcefully.

“I know, dear, but if I fill it before you finish then you’re still drinking your first one.” This lame rationalization appeared to satisfy her. She took her refill without much ado, and as I settled back into my corner of the couch and tucked my feet up, she likewise leaned back.

“Hey, kick your shoes off honey, make yourself at home. Really, I have all day and I hardly ever have company of an afternoon.” She complied slowly, as if thinking her way through it, but drew her feet, clad in white socks, up onto the couch as I had mine.

We chatted amiably for a while about this and that, about her studies and my nursing, about magazine sales and future prospects. Halfway through escort bursa her third refill, I took the plunge and asked her about boys.

“No one special,” she sighed. “I’ve been on a few dates, but guys are pretty gropy. There’s too much expectation. My friends are way more experienced than I am, I’ve slept with like, one guy, but my friends aren’t raised as Catholically as I am. Is that even a word?” She giggled.

“What, Catholically, I think so.” A Catholic school girl, sigh. “So what do your friends get up to,” I asked, sensing that she was being more responsive. “Forgive an old broad like me for asking, but it’s been a while since high school dating for me and it’s nice to live vicariously through something other than Dawson’s Creek once in a while.”

“Um, you don’t seem that old!” I told her I was thirty-six. “No way! I thought you were like, twenty-six or something, not, old old. Not twice my age anyway!” Um, I decided to let that slide and kept on smiling with my teeth. She looked up as though drawing from memory, “Well I have this one friend, Jane, and she once made out with two guys at the same time. They like, took turns on her right in front of everyone. They left the party together and I don’t know what happened after that. I shudder to think. Oh, and I have these two friends, Cassie and Carly, both blonde’s blondes and a week ago they both like, I can hardly even say it, frenched each other for nearly a minute on a dare. I haven’t been able to look at them straight since.”

I was blonde, blue-eyed and, well, it’s a good thing I’m not easily offended. I let her continue. She mentioned a few other tales but nothing as interesting as her blonde friends.

“Wilder than Dawson’s Creek at least. Thanks for sharing.” I thought I’d press her just a little bit. “So Cassie and Carly, are they girl’s girls as well as blonde’s blondes?”

She looked at me a bit sheepishly. “They say they’re not, but the way they were kissing, I’m not sure. And I see them touching each other sometimes. It looks like nothing, but after that kiss maybe I’m seeing things.” I thought she said she couldn’t look at them after. This girl was becoming something of a blip on my gaydar.

“Sounds like you’ve studied them pretty closely…” I added, trailing off, seeing where she would go.

“Well, it was hard not to look, like watching a slow motion car crash.” Samantha said, her breathing a little quicker now and a rosy hue touching her caramel skinned cheeks as she relived the moment her friends kissed each other.

“Why couldn’t you look at them after?” I was staring straight at her now. I was tired, buzzed, horny, intrigued and now solely intent on wooing little Miss Samantha right out of her tight jeans. She was looking straight ahead, on some level aware of my intense gaze.

“I don’t know, it just made me uncomfortable I guess…” Her chest rose and fell quite deeply. My own breath was unconsciously beginning to match hers.

“Uncomfortable how?” I asked innocently, but shifting closer so that my foot was touching hers. I am absolutely one hundred percent sure she noticed this move. Without moving her head, her eyes surreptitiously focussed on my foot.

“Is this conversation making you uncomfortable?” She looked me in the eye at that moment, startled. “Do I make you uncomfortable?” She nodded her head yes, speechless.

“Is it the same uncomfortable you get when you think about Cassie kissing Carly.” She lowered her eyes, blushing deeply. I was right next to her now. She could feel my breath on her cheek. I took the drink from her hand, which dropped passively to her side. This was really happening! “Being aroused isn’t about being comfortable darling,” I whispered in her ear, letting my tongue trace the edge and biting her earlobe. “It’s about being moist,” I kissed her cheek, “and warm,” her nose, her eyes, “like a mouth,” I kissed her lips delicately, “or a tongue,” I snaked my tongue between her lips and she let out the most delicious, almost pained sigh, “it’s about being hard,” I invaded her jacket and slipped my hand over a breast to flick a wonderfully erect nipple straining against her cotton shirt, “and hot,” I kissed her some more, smiling as I did so, really letting my tongue delve slowly and languorously into her mouth. She responded with the most subtle movement of her lips, on the cusp of kissing me back. “You can only really get comfortable,” I drawled, lapping at her neck as she reflexively craned to receive my mouth on her throat, “by letting all that heat out.”

She was panting by this stage, her worried face betraying also her blossoming arousal. “Are you ‘uncomfortable’ baby?” I crooned.

“Yes,” she breathed in response.

“Then let’s get comfortable together,” I said taking her by the hand and guiding her to her feet.

She was right about being too short to be a model. We stood there kissing, with me bending down and practically swallowing her open mouth. She just tilted her head back and let my tongue delve deeply. Her hands rested passively on my hips whilst mine roamed freely over bursa escort bayan her generous curves, those hips, those breasts, that ‘oh my god’ ass! I turned her around and pointed her in the direction of my bedroom. She smiled shyly and scooted her ass forward as I tried to grab it. But I still controlled her with one arm around her shoulders from behind. We mock wrestled like this on our way to our destination.

She turned around when we reached the bedroom door, staring at me meaningfully. She had never done this before. She was nervous, but horny. I promised her with a look that I would understand that. My look also told her just how much I wanted her. My urgent kisses got the message across even better still. She continued to kiss me back with increasing reciprocity. We were practically eating each other’s faces by the time Samantha’s knees hit the back of my bed and she drifted backwards. I guided her fall with the back of my hand, coming to rest on top of her with my knee between her legs.

Her breasts were magnificent pressing tightly against her shirt, but I wanted to open this present already. The jacket was gone in an instant. Then I went for the first button of her shirt like a sex starved schoolgirl, making a meal of it in my addled state. Samantha smiled shyly again and gently removed my hands. Slowly, watching her hands the whole time, she unbuttoned one, then two, then finally all of her buttons from top to bottom, until all that was left to reveal her bra clad treasures was to part the cotton material. My hands dipped forward in an inverted prayer position then spread out to the sides, palms pressing against my beauty’s exquisitely smooth, slightly rounded belly, spreading her shirt open. Those breasts, so high and full and firm, positively bursting from her bra in her aroused state, begged to be touched. She giggle as I sent her shirt sailing across the room, and moments later, and I unhooked her bra from behind much more skilfully, letting her roll to the side slightly so my hands could gain access.

Breasts like these were made to be worshipped. Whoever said more than a handful was a waste had NO idea what they were talking about. Samantha blushed as I took in the sight, a little titillated by my obvious gawking. I scooped her right breast in both hands and laved the flesh with my tongue, avoiding her nipple for a while then sucking it deeply back into my throat. Samantha moaned and gasped with the attention, which I duly gave to her other breast in equal measure.

After several minutes of this Samantha’s young body was positively writhing underneath me and her hands were wreathed in my medium length hair. When I felt her hands beginning to explore further, first up and down my back, then underneath my loose t-shirt to caress the sides of my freely swaying breasts, I knew she was ready to go another level. Barely skipping a beat I cast my t-shirt away, sitting up straight above her, letting her take in the sight of another woman’s breasts, not so big as her own, but proud, aroused, and ready for her attention. She looked at me with a mixture of lust and apprehension, so I took her hands and placed them over my tits, squeezing my breasts with her hands. I then returned my hands to her breasts as her hands remained on my own, cupping them tentatively. I was looking her straight in the eye as I fondled her freely. “C’mon baby, play with them. Do to them what you do to your own breasts in the dark when no one is watching. When you’re thinking about Cassie or Carly, or maybe both,” I added with a naughty raised eyebrow and a wink. Samantha’s olive skin turned maroon at my kinky suggestions, but she started stroking my breasts with great enthusiasm for the task. She must like playing with her breasts I thought, because she seems to know her way around mine.

“Oh that’s nice,” I let out as she gently pinched my nipples. “Is that for Cassie, or Carly?”

“Neither, it’s for you,” Samantha said earnestly, tugging me down by my arms for a kiss. She seemed almost choked with emotion. We devoured each other’s lips then, partaking in an extended makout session, until at one point a jolt of electricity seemed to spark between us. For a moment we shared a look, and I realised we had both felt it, then we returned to the kissing to chase that spark with renewed passion, still fondling and caressing each other’s breasts as best we could with our bodies mashed together.

Before long I rolled so that Samantha was on top of me, her legs ironically between mine in missionary position. Ironic because I was the one normally in between my lover’s legs. I unzipped her jeans and while they were in this loosened state I was able to inveigle my hands down her pants to cup her gorgeous ass over her thin cotton panties. If her breasts were more than a handful, then each cheek of her ass made me wish I had four hands, but I did my best to grab that ‘back’ that was smooth and firm in the way that only youth and great genes can provide. I revelled in the feel as her jeans and panties began to slip together bit by bit down her legs. Somehow, Samantha was at the point where she was finally kicking them off, left only in her white socks. It was a simple matter for me to kick off my tracksuit pants and panties, leaving both of us naked (except for Samantha’s socks).

I’m lying in bed mid-afternoon daydreaming trying to catch forty winks after a gruelling nightshift, almost deliriously tired but still can’t seem to drift off to sleep. I feel wired, buzzed, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. I try putting my finger downstairs to relieve some tension but even orgasmic release seems…

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