by Jamie Knight
She doesn’t do it shyly, as I would’ve expected. She goes straight for it, giving me the suction and pressure I’m used to as if she knows just how I like to be tasted. She works quickly and thoroughly, even bending down to lick and fondle my balls in between her work on my shaft.
In her mouth, I quickly fatten and lengthen. I crave her tongue and her cheeks as they glide around me. But her throat, the way it opens up so willingly and sweetly for me, that’s to die for. I pull her closer to me, put my hand on her head, encouraging her to keep going deeper and deeper.
She does, bringing me down into her throat, before pulling out again and curling her tongue around me. She tightens her lips and twirls, like I’m stuck in the sexiest amusement park ride ever.
“Are you a virgin, Britney?”
I hate the breathiness in my voice, but I can’t help it. She’s sucking me so hard and expertly, I can barely get a full breath. I don’t want to admit it to myself, but as she nods to my question about her being a virgin, I know this is the best blow job I’ve ever gotten. Not even those so-called “experts” among my fashion models gave me something this good.
The fact that she’s a virgin, that drives me wild. As she continues to slurp and suck my cock with gusto, I imagine all the dirty thoughts she must be having.
I imagine she must be a little shy about this, even with how confidently she works. I imagine how she must be talking to herself, what astonishment and delight she might be feeling at her own actions, at the clothing I’ve made her wear, at the spankings I gave her since I can still remember the shock on her face.
That face of hers turns me on more, and I can feel my balls grip and tighten. I can feel them clenching. They start pumping hard and fast, and I feel the telltale liquid warmth of release creeping from my base toward my shaft. It’s pooling there, rising to Britney’s bidding.
She seems to sense this as well because she doubles down on her efforts. She travels the length of me, increasing her grip and tightness. She moans, using one of her hands to massage my balls.
Against my will, I moan right after her. I clamp down on it, using my hands to urge her on. She obeys, plunging her mouth and throat over my cock with even more speed, and before I can prepare myself, there’s a rush of joy and heat.
My cock swells with cum before releasing into Britney’s hot, velvet mouth. Three shots consecutively. They are rapid-fire and molten. Britney gobbles them up eagerly. She drinks them down as if it’s nothing but cream.
I pull my cock out of her, happy that I’m still hard. Even happier, that I can feel another load brewing.
“For being a virgin, you are quite skilled.”
My own voice sounds weird to my ears, but I ignore it. My head and heart are heavy with lust for her and maybe something more.
“I’ll give you every outfit in this room, in exchange for your virginity.”
Britney nods and lets me guide her over to one of the empty couches.
As I lay her down on her back, I think I hear her murmur, “I would give it to you even without clothes,” but I don’t ask her about it. I simply pull her legs apart and let her get a good look at me and how I am ready to take her.
“I’m taking your virginity now,” I say, and thrust myself inside her.
For this initial taste, I’m gentle.
I’m soft.
I wiggle myself around inside her, to make sure I’m not hurting her unnecessarily. I wait to fill her with my length and gently ease myself forward. I let her receive me the way I was savoring her.
By the noises she’s making, she’s in pleasure and pain equally and can’t decide which she feels more. She whimpers and shivers as I move further inside of her. I comfort her with some stimulation to her clit and her nipples from over the corset. I do so to offset the stimulation I know must be coursing inside her.
This seems to relax her some, and I continue forward. I plunged deeper, rocking myself over her. As I do, I see that she has her eyes closed.
Her glasses are acutely askew, and she has a bright, blazing blush on her cheeks. My breath catches, seeing this, and as I hit the maximum distance I can go inside of her, I start thrusting. Slow and steady at first, but I quickly lose that control.
In no time, it devolves into quick, dominating thrusts. Hungrily, I run my cock along the length of her pussy. I savor and map every inch.
I commend to memory every feeling of her walls. I’m awash in her warmth. I can barely think. She’s so wet. And more than that, she’s taking up residence in my mind and in my heart and soul, places I never let women tread.
Britney is moaning and gasping in time with my movements. I feel her tightening around me, so I use whatever brain cells I have active at the moment to tell my fingers to go down to her clit and start rubbing. My fingers find her bud in no time. I start stroking and teasing, knowing I haven’t got long.
Good news for me, though, Britney doesn’t have long either. The moment I start touching her, she starts to rise up off the couch. It’s unconscious, what she does.
But it has the effect of undoing the lid I have on my control and I spill my second load straight into her. Right as she rises up in time to her orgasm, so do I. Pump after pump rushes into her, and I know this isn’t going to be another one-night stand.
I’m going to be addicted to her long after, and not just in a place like this, but in my regular life as well.
As Britney regains her breath and collects her thoughts from her foggy brain, I ask her, “Do you want to come visit my shop? I have other designs there I would love to get your opinion on, Britney.”
Britney turns her warm eyes to me.
“I’d love to see your shop and your other designs, Kace.”
I fix her glasses for her and help her get up off the couch. To my surprise, she wants to stay in the clothes I just fucked her in, so I help her put on her shoes, grab the rest of the clothes (including her original dress), and we leave the room together. From there, we head out into the night, but it’s no longer chilly or lonely. Not to her or me.
Epilogue – Britney
Yes, you just agreed to go with him.
Yes, you just said to him you didn’t want to change back into your own clothes.
Walking through the club with Kace like this, I’m surprised when I don’t feel self-conscious in this revealing dress. I’m surprised that I feel confident and powerful. I feel like a different woman. Like I have always belonged in clothing like this, and someone was just keeping me hidden.
You were keeping yourself hidden. And you are a different woman now. You are experiencing what you have always said to and about others — that clothes give you a new, exciting “self.”
I don’t want to go back to wearing those regular dresses. I don’t want to go back to hiding myself, even if I am a university student. Even if I am a fashion designer in training, I want to go to classes wearing Kace’s work.
I want to go in front of my teachers and challenge them. I want to rub this in their faces and watch their reactions. I want to make my graduate thesis about how clothing has to liberate, not just cover.
I hold my head higher, taking pleasure out of the way a lot of the clubgoers are looking at me. Especially the women. I see jealousy and pride among them.
As Kace and I step out into the chilly night, I’m feeling freer than I’ve ever felt in my life. I’m feeling more aligned with my purpose than I’ve ever felt as well.
His car waits for us by the curb, but it’s him who opens my door and who gets in back with me. I don’t notice he has a driver until the driver asks us where we are headed now.
“To my shop, Daniel. If you please,” Kace says, and that’s all that’s required.
With that, we are coasting through the quiet city streets in his fancy car.
The heater is on to keep me warm, but I don’t need it. He’s keeping me warm enough. Kace fondles and kisses me on the ride over.
He’s dip
ping his hands down my corset top and up my skirt past my thighs. I’m ready to have him again as it is. But with him caressing and fondling me, flicking my clit, I would offer myself up immediately once we get to the shop.
****
We are outside of his boutique, and I can hardly believe my eyes. Kace has suits and ballgowns on mannequins right next to many of the outfits that were parading around the club on various bodies. I even see an outfit identical to mine in the window.
As he walks me up to the door, I’m still feeling warm and happy from his attentions in the car, and at the club. But now that is at odds with how much I want to look around his shop. How much I want to see what all he has and what all he might be working on.
As I step inside and he turns on the lights, I see that this isn’t just his boutique. It also doubles as his design studio. On a far end, I see designs pinned up to the wall. I see version after version, some of them colored, some of them in pieces, where he’s trying to work on various elements. There are shoes in one area and skirts in another.
I leave him to wander the racks and mannequins full of his designs. I quickly start finding things I want to put together into something new. I start grabbing skirts and shirts, putting them together. Harnesses and pants are next. Leather thongs and sashes go together after that.
I’m on autopilot, following some inner voice of mine and not stopping to think about how I’m in someone else’s shop. I just work as if I’m answering to a higher power.
I’m working so diligently I don’t even notice how Kace is watching me. I don’t even notice the smile on his face and the sparkle in his eyes.
I lay various designs out on the tables then finishing putting them together. It’s only when Kace chuckles at me and comes to wrap his arms around my hips that I realize what I’m doing. That I’m touching his clothes and putting them in combinations without his consent.
I blush, quickly dropping my work.
“Am I doing too much? You can punish me again if I am,” I whisper, wanting another round.
“No, you’re not doing too much. Watching you is something magical. Something beyond anything I’ve experienced with anyone else I’ve ever tried to have come work for me. I’d love for you to join me in my shop, Britney.”
He turns me around fully to face him. As he does, I adjust my glasses.
“You can still attend the University, but I’d like you to be in my shop with me. I’d like you to help me with my designs. You truly have a unique touch, a unique sense for my work, and I’m going to need that as I move forward. I’ve been trying to take my business to the next level, but it’s been a struggle. With you, I’m hoping things will start flowing again.”
He grinds himself against me a little bit. I feel his cock through his slacks. He’s hard again, just like I’m wet again.
“Yes, of course… I’d love to come work in your shop,” I say. “I’d love to work with you on your fashions. Learn and grow with you. I might not go back to the University. I feel like I would learn more from you. I already have learned more from you in one night about fashion and people that I’ve learned at the university in close to four years.”
Kace smacks my ass, not hard, but playfully.
“While I am flattered that you say that, I want you to finish out your degree.”
“Then, I want to wear your clothes and only your clothes from now until I fully graduate.”
As I’m talking, he’s leading me over to a back room. This place is filled with yet more designs and more worktables. He guides me over to one.
As he lays me back on it and goes to other parts of the room in search of something, I say, “I’m going to work at your shop in between my classes, since I have a lot of free time.”
“Fine by me.”
Kace returns with various scraps of leather and uses them to tie me up on the table. He leaves my legs free so I can spread them but goes ahead and binds my wrists together above my head. Only when I’m like that, does he pull me to the edge of the table, lift my legs, and give my ass a few spanks.
“You start in my shop tomorrow. Bright and early, since I plan to keep you here for the night.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” I say, and start kissing him again as he comes in close.
His cock rubs the length of my pussy and hips before finding its way inside. He fills me fast, but I’m not afraid. I’m not uncomfortable. I squeal happily at his length and girth filling me. I beg him for more, for his whole being.
“I know it’s weird, but I’m falling in love with you.”
As I say this, it’s broken up by his movements inside me. I can barely breathe as I feel him gliding in and out of me like a wave. His strong arms push me into the table, claiming me further.
“It’s not weird. I’m falling in love with you too, Britney.”
Kace rocks forward, increasing his speed inside me. I feel my body quiver and warm with his closeness.
“I don’t just ask any woman to come to work in my shop or help me with my designs. I would only ask that of someone I love and someone I trust.”
I gasp, feeling his fingers on my clit and another of his hands around my hips, pulling me onto him. The faster he moves, the stronger my feelings for him are. Tears begin to wander out of my eyes, sparkling like the sequins on some of his pieces. Kace wipes them away. He kisses my lips.
“You can always trust me to tell you the truth,” I whisper. “I will tell you what you need to hear to make your designs truer to your visions, not to what anyone else thinks.”
“I care about what you think,” he says, thrusting deep and fast. “You’re not just anyone.”
I let go, letting my orgasm roll though me and make me light-headed. My pussy clenches onto Kace.
He stiffens, grunting, “You’re a fashion designer, Mrs. Britney Ainsworth.”
We cum together, collapsing onto each other in a mess of bliss and love.
I know his words to me are a proposal. One that I will gladly accept. I’ve finally found my place and the one I belong with. Together we are going to make the world more beautiful.
THE END
Buying Her Flower
Copyright © 2020 Jamie Knight Romance.
Jamie Knight
Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author
All rights reserved.
Chapter 1 - Sheila
I love selling flowers, generally speaking. But I don’t always love the entire process. Especially not the customer service part of it, specifically.
“My grandson sends me petunias on my birthday. But that’s about all he’s good for. He forgets about me all the other days of the year!”
I nod my head patiently at the elderly lady customer who keeps talking to me – and by elderly, I mean she has to be pushing 90 or 95 – while being sure that a big smile is still plastered on my face, while trying not to grit my teeth.
Today has not been fantastic.
Don’t get me wrong. Like I said, I enjoy working here at the Love in Bloom flower shop. It's the kind of flower shop I've always dreamed of owning myself. Most people have bigger goals than running a flower shop business in their small hometown but I don’t, and I haven’t even been able to save up the money to buy a store like this. So for now, I settle for being employed here.
I have always tried my best to be a professional and helpful worker, especially at times like these when the owner of the store is watching me, of course. Right now, though, my attention is on this lady standing in front of me and it’s rather strained. I’m having to do my best to stay patient.
“What are some flowers I could get that I haven’t mentioned yet?” she demands.
She's gone down the list of all the people in her life to whom she has ever given flowers and why. Then she started in on listing all the people who have ever given her flowers, what type they were, and why they did so. Now, she at least seems to be moving on to asking me different question
s about various kinds of flowers.
"Well, some of the easiest flowers to take care of, among those you haven’t mentioned, are daylilies and cosmos," I politely explain to her, glad to have a way to hurry the conversation along.
She looks around again.
"I'm just not sure…." she replies. "Can I have a few more minutes to decide?"
"Of course, take as much time as you need," I answer her.
She’s probably just a tire kicker, a lonely lady here to talk and not really to buy, but it’s still my job to help her out.
She smiles at me, then walks around, picking up various plants and shaking her head at each one before putting it back down. I watch her for a second, wanting to smile and shake my head but also not wanting to be too obvious about my reaction to her.
I decide to go back to my task of watering some of the other flowers. They face the window, so I can smile without anyone seeing me.
Marsha, the owner and manager of the flower shop, walks by me; she had been standing nearby and watching me with the customer. I turn around to greet her and see that she's carrying a file of papers under her arm.
"Good morning!" I greet her, happy now that I’m free of the lonely old lady customer.
Marsha’s a little weird but we’ve become friends and I’d way rather talk to her than hear about a niece named Becky who was sent daffodils for graduation but was too rude to write a thank you note in return.
I admire Marsha’s business smarts and marketing. Love in Bloom was the perfect choice to name a flower shop in Bloom, Idaho. And she advertises to all the people playing Bingo next door, which is likely how the elderly lady customer wandered in.
"Good morning, Sheila!" she replies.
She sets the file by the register and looks at me.
"Sheila, I just wanted to compliment you on your professionalism. I overheard you helping that customer, and I really admire your patience," she says to me.
