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.