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Set in New Zealand with Kiwi spelling and idioms.
It was Saturday morning and Martin Mora, recently leaving the family nest, looked around his small apartment, if it could be called that: small oblong box was more apt. When he first inspected it, driven down in size by the high rentals being demanded for his idea of an apartment, at six foot three he wasn’t sure he would find space long enough for his bed. But he did and with a surprising amount of room left over.
The tight-fisted landlord had compromised and said he would replace only one of the items Martin had griped about: the cracked and leaking toilet bowl or the hand-carved kitchen bench. He’d made a wise choice and now had a new toilet bowl, probably a factory reject. Mr Tight-Fist had authorized Martin to replace the kitchen bench, with the names of eleven previous occupants carved into the grimy wood and harbouring oodles of germs no doubt.
After washing down a breakfast cup of plain yoghurt with strong tea Martin headed off to Kitchen City and was so early he had to wait for the showroom to open. A blonde with a wide mouth and small tits pulled high with ‘Fu’k me if you love me’ written over it came over from the group of saleswomen, probably having lost the argument who should leave their coffee to see him.
“I’m looking for a kitchen bench top with built in sink.”
She smiled and heading back to her coffee said, “We have plenty of them. Look a round.”
“Wait, I want service?”
Reluctantly she returned, smiled beautifully and looked up at him.
“I’ve just left home. I don’t know anything about kitchen benches.”
“You mother could advise you.”
“Mum has asked me to leave dad and her in peace for a month to get used to life without me.”
Blondie, who introduced herself as Irene, thrust his left arm under her right arm and pushing some tit against him said, “Come with me and I’ll show you what I’ve got.”
Martin misinterpreted what that meant and was quite surprised they remained in the room.
Irene showed him types of sinks and the various styles of bench tops and finishes.
“Is it for resale?”
“No for my rented apartment. The one there is crap and the landlord said I could replace it at my expense.”
“On it that case you’ll want something cheap and nasty?”
“If you say so.”
Upon hearing that the calculating saleswoman, obviously thinking about her commission, said, “Or perhaps something a little more upmarket?”
“Yeah, nothing nasty,” said Martin, his first month’s salary as assistant financial controller at the District Council already banked.
Irene sold him a bench just at the start of the extortion price range and seemed very happy about leaving her coffee to get cold.
“We’ll send out a pre-fitter to measure up before installation to ensure the perfect fit.”
Martin said okay and when paying gave his address details and said anytime from 4:30 on Monday or Tuesday would be fine. He went off for an espresso and meat pie thinking if Irene turned up as the pre-fitter he’d pop out her small tits and have her yelling to be fitted to her internal dimensions. He tripped over a mutt coming out of the coffeehouse. The dog yelped blue murder and the fat bitch hanging on to the leash swung her handbag at his head but Martin ducked and was called a canine-murdering fucker.
He grinned and closing the glass door of the air-conditioned premises gave the still berating bitch the one-finger salute. At that she appeared to suffocate, turning rather blue and purple in the face.
Late afternoon the dark brown curly-haired twenty-seven year old, proud holder of an MBA and two lesser degrees, answered the door, anticipating it would be Irene. But no, it was an old woman, in her late forties, and the tape measure she was holding indicated who she was.
“Hi, are you Mr Mora?”
“Yeah the guy in need of a new bench top.”
“Good. You must be literate. Half the people who give us their addresses and telephone numbers get them wrong, even the rich bitches.”
The frankness of the woman endeared herself to Martin. “Come in,”
“Thanks. Are you alone?”
She seemed surprised when he said yes and he asked why had she asked him that. Was she concerned for her safety?”
“Hell no. It’s just because guys alone when seeing the tape invariably ask, usually joking, would I measure their dick.”
Martin felt his face colour and his throat begin to restrict, as if he were turning rather blue and purple and was about to suffocate.
“Oh god, I haven’t upset you have I being so saucily flippant?”
“No it’s fine. You may measure my dick providing you allow me to measure your tits.”
“Oh you’re out of luck,” she laughed. “My tape would have difficulty getting around these puppies,” she said, jiggling them.
Until she did that Martin hadn’t really noticed how big she was up there. “Um, call me Martin,” he said, thinking if she were fifteen or so years younger he’d be really interested.
“I’m Belinda Blakely. So this is the halkalı escort object you don’t desire?”
“Yeah, it’s a mess.”
“Image the health-threatening micro-orgasms hiding in those grooves and threatening your health.”
“I think you mean organisms.”
“I did. Was just testing to see if you were educated. You also have the height and good looks and broad-shoulders I’m looking for.”
“Never you mind.”
Belinda measured up, refusing to allow Martin to note the measurements for her because she relied on no one else because accuracy with vital. She finished Belinda said, “Okay let’s fuck.”
“It’s what half the guys alone want to do to me but I don’t yield. In your case I’m willing to make the sacrifice.”
“Mind your business. Why are you hesitating… are your gay?”
Horrified at the thought of being tagged with that label, Martin had her skirt and panties down around her ankles in two expert tugs and was rolling his tongue over her trimmed vulva before Belinda had time to say ‘Christ’ which she then said and widened her legs.
After Belinda had secreted over Martin’s face she freed her breasts and said she’d settle for a titty fuck. Still worried about entering an aged pussy Martin took that option. Belinda’s eyes widened appreciatively as it hauled out his dick, wet it with seeping pussy juice as Belinda leaned over the arm of the sofa and went to work, she pushing her tits inwards to increase friction for him. He blew a good-sized deposit into her cupped hand and she even looked pleased about that.
As she left Belinda kissed him and said mysteriously, :If any mother-in-law did with her son-in-law what we’ve just done what would you think their reaction would be?”
“Couldn’t say but I would think they would be keen to invite the mother-in-law over if the wife was away from home for more than a couple of nights.”
“That’s a rather mature outlook,” she smiled and left.
Towelling after his best titty-fuck ever, Martin suddenly thought he knew what Belinda had been about… she was lining him up for her daughter when her daughter’s husband was away.
Sure enough, two evenings later a nervous-sounding woman called him and said, “You met my mother Belinda a couple of days ago — she measured for your custom-made kitchen sink bench.”
Martin said that was correct and accepted Laura’s invited to meet at a bar she named at 7:30 next evening. She said she would be wearing red shoes and a red dress. He grinned thinking hubby must be out of town already.
Settling in at the bar next evening Martin couldn’t believe how many women wore red dresses and red shoes at that bar. He sighed and thought he should have said he’d be the only guy with his zip down but then he would have had to be standing for her to see, wouldn’t he?
A female in cultured tones said, “Mr Mora?”
Martin couldn’t believe it. He’s noticed this gorgeous brunette enter a couple of minutes earlier but thought that wouldn’t be her because she looked about six inches taller than Belinda and only had a good set of 34’s, possibly c-size.
He jumped to his feet, checking that his zip was up and wondering how the hell would he know anything about breast cup size with any accuracy. “Yes Laura, I’m Martin Mora. Please sit and what drink may I fetch for you?”
He half expected her to leer and say a Fallen Angel but already his mind was saying something was not quite right here.
“A single shot of black rum over ice in a tall glass and topped with Coke please.”
Aha, a near-maiden’s drink. So his brain warning was on the correct track.
“You have lovely breasts.”
She coloured and looked at the table.
Aha, confirmation. “That was a supreme intimate compliment, rarely given. It doesn’t mean I have no respect for you or I’m thinking of playing with them.”
“Thank you,” she said, not looking up.
Martin returned with her drink and a Whisky Sour. Laura looked at him and smiled, just a tad uncertainly but definitely not the look she might reserve for a serial seducer.
“Mum did say I might find you speak rather indelicately at times.”
“Probably Belinda should have said I’m rather uncouth.”
“No, not at all. She said you are earthy and…” She tailed off.
Martin waited and noticed Laura squirm but didn’t let her off the hook. He sat patiently.
“Gorgeous. I had trouble saying it not knowing if a guy would accept such a term?”
“No it’s okay. Does your mom do early-evening pre-fit measuring on contract?”
Laura smothered a laugh. “No she does the measuring outside business hours when her regular pre-fitters have gone home. Mum owns Kitchen City and half-owns a furniture business with dad and has a share in her mom and dad’s Burlington Mall.”
Martin’s mouth dropped open so he filled it with Whisky Sour. “So what do you do?”
“I’ll complete my MBA this year. I remember you as a junior lecturer in my first taksim escort year and yesterday looked and saw your name on the honours board.”
“Well yes, they have to pick on someone.”
“Don’t be self-demeaning. Be proud of your achievement.”
Martin felt rebuked and looked down at the table aware she was studying him.
“I’d like to invite you to spend the weekend at my parent’s lakeside holiday home next Saturday, Sunday and Monday, leaving for Taupo as early as you wish on Saturday morning.”
Martin looked up at Laura, catching the earnest green eyes. Was he going crazy or had he misconstrued what she’d said? The music was rather loud.
“You mean to spend the weekend in bed with you?”
Her face flamed and she said oh god no, what did he take her for?
He grinned and said a young woman with sexual ambition. That reasonable response worked because Laura laughed; it was a genuine laugh.
“Um mom thought she’d found in you the perfect specimen for me to marry after graduation. In you I believed I’d had contact with the perfect coach: I have to cram for exams next Saturday and I’d like you to discuss and motivate me in my two weakest areas: Entrepreneurship and Innovation and then Strategic Management. Daddy is willing to pay you reasonable fees. Mummy said you are likely to do it for fine wine and fine food and my exhilarating company. We can go tramping, kayaking and jet-skiing.”
Martin remained tight-lipped, looking at her tits in the tight white dress. Why this academic plea? By now she ought to be massaging his crotch with a foot in its red shoe. The thought of that made him feel almost dizzy.
“Please say yes. I’m sorry sex is not part of the package because I’m almost engaged to a guy whom mummy dislikes.”
“She claims he’s not good-looking enough with narrow shoulders and he won’t satisfy me in the marital bed. How on earth can she deduce that?”
Remaining passive-faced Martin thought you sexy slut Belinda, trying out you daughter’s boyfriend.
“I have no idea,” he lied.
“Well the implication of her switching on to you so emphatically amounts to her saying you’ll be good in bed…”
Martin cut in and asked how on earth could her mother determine that? Laura looked a little perplexed and said she’d hoped he would answer that.
She sat waiting, forcing him to be the next to speak. Either that or they might as well split right now.
He scratched his balls. There was no sign of her lip turning up in disgust. At least that was something. “Okay, I’ll take a coaching weekend with you. We can have intense discussions in and outside the house, when we are tramping and even when kayaking. But on one condition and that’s if you feel the desire to fuck me you’ll do it, no holding back.”
“That is absolutely disgusting. I’m going.”
“Sit down Laura and stop being childish.”
Martin waited until she sat and said. “We’re adults of the opposite sex and the condition I just outline ought to sound perfectly reasonable to you. It means you’ll be the one who decides whether we have sex.”
“I-I suppose that is reasonable and yes we are adults.”
“How often is your boyfriend getting it?”
“Come on, don’t be a wimp.”
“Once a week, usually Saturday nights.”
“What? I was expected you to say didn’t I mean once an hour?”
Martin chuckled and she looked pleased at apparently being considered witty. “No, it means I’ll be with you on Saturday night when you become lusty through Saturday night conditioning.”
“God, my big worry is men are always thinking about sex.”
“My big worry is women don’t.”
Laura’s face crinkled into a laugh. “That it, that’s precisely it. That exactly expresses the psychological difference between men and women.”
Martin nodded to appear intelligent while wondering perhaps she didn’t have a pussy or if she did the network of emotional sensors were not hooked into that.
As they were leaving the bar Martin said, “Will I see your tits bared during our tutorial weekend.”
“Oh god,” she sighed.
“Come on, don’t be mean-spirited.”
“Oh very well; if you’re lucky you might. God being in your company is like being in the company of a 12-year old schoolboy awed by his hormones stirring. Good night… my car is just across the road.”
Martin smiled, watching her butt as she walked across the road and taking in a great pair of legs from the amount of leg that was exposed. Very classy. He thought well done with your contribution of genes Belinda and husband and ancestors. He adjusted his underpants and walked to his car a very happy guy, deciding attempting to get Laura’s legs open this weekend was so much more preferable to the planned repainting of the kitchen over the weekend. The new bench top would be installed Thursday evening.
In bed that night Martin jerked his dick, drawing the image of Laura looking at her bared tits in the mirror night şişli escort and morning now until Friday night saying to them, ‘Darlings, my new friend Martin wants to play with you. Should I invite him to pat you and perhaps that will give me Saturday Night Fever and I’ll allow him to do unspeakable things to you?’
* * *
Martin and Laura travelled to the lake in Laura’s car because it was newer than his and she said she was hosting him for the weekend. They left before daylight and Laura handed him the keys.
“You drive. Men believe they are superior drivers.”
“Okay, give me a kiss. Female students accept is as normal to kiss their tutors.”
“Okay but no tonguing.”
Laura sighed and allowed him to press her into him and kiss her soundly.
“That was nice,” she purred, not sounding at all pissed off. “I hope you tutor as good as you kiss.”
“Jump in. As he drove off he asked, “Are your tits in good shape this morning?”
“Okay, please describe what you would say to a client seeking management advice about telling him to how to wind up is business a few notches to increase business and thus avoid putting off staff. Let’s say he has twenty-three people working for him baking and distributing pastries to various outlets but a competitor of yours has apparently taken advice, geared up and is eating into his market. Take it right from the beginning, setting the scene and describing his operation and how it has been managed to date and how has his output and profitability been affected before you start talking about what he needs to do to turn around his business. Selling it or switching production aren’t options.”
They arrived at the lakefront home in under three hours from Auckland, Martin coaching Laura all the way, he pointing out places where her advice was rather light and other places where it lacked credibility.
“You have to try to look ahead and bring everything together to complete your advice package otherwise you will be marked poorly for inadequacies, omissions and, well, lack of authority and credibility as an adviser. Learn what you need to say, understand what you are saying, and picture everything coming together within the time allowed to answer this problem.”
The Blakely’s home was old but beautifully maintained. Polished wood floors meant a ban on shoes being worn inside and the bottoms of dinning chairs had felt pads.
“This is wonderful,” Martin said. “Where do we sleep?”
“You have mum and dad’s room; I’ll have my room.”
She giggled and said she’d cook bacon, eggs, hash browns and tomatoes for breakfast.
“Great, I could eat a horse.”
“I’ll see if the butcher stocks any to serve tonight at dinner.”
“Um allow me to take you to dinner in Rotorua and view Maori entertainment put on for tourists.”
“You’ll miss having horse meat.”
“Oh lucky me.”
They worked through business mentoring situations all day until Laura began yawning at 4:00.
“You take a nap and I’ll go for a walk — this hasn’t been pressure for me.”
Martin returned an hour and a half later to find Laura deeply asleep. He made a sandwich, hauled out a kayak and went paddling, enjoying that immensely. Returning he found her dressed for going out, looking neat casual and very beautiful.
“You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you. Have a shower and then we can leave. I have booked a table for two at a suitable venue.”
They returned just before midnight.
“Yeah, nice. Are your horny?”
Martin watched Laura bite her lip.
“If I do it with you can it be our secret?”
“Yeah if that’s want you want.”
“I’ll lie to my mum we didn’t do it but came really close.”
“Okay, then my mouth is sealed. Could you hurry the coffee along?”
Martin came up behind Laura waiting for the jug to boil and slid his hands down over her hips and down the front of her thighs, bringing his right hand in to cup her vulva.
“That’s lovely,” she said, breathing rather heavily.
“Are you sure you want this to happen? I won’t mind if you don’t.”
The absence of an immediate reply warned him what was coming.
The feeling of failure rushed thought Martin as Laura turned, swallowed and he saw it in her eyes, telegraphing a message that already had his dick loosing rigidity as the blood flow powering it became restricted.
He let her off the hook and said, “Hush, it’s okay. I understand.”
He let go of her and stepped away.
Eyes saddened, Laura sniffed, “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, really,” he lied.
“I-I’d have to drop my boyfriend Michael before I could have sex with you. Doing unspeakable things with you would be just too much of a burden for me to carry. I don’t think I could face him if I’d allow you to do that. It would be like having committed adultery.”
“If you have second thoughts just let me know?”
Laura sighed heavily and said it was her fault for leading him on, giving him carnally arousing thoughts about slipping between her thighs and stroking and licking her writhing body.
Martin couldn’t believe he was feeling his dick harden again. Laura shouldn’t be talking to him so erotically.
He groaned and said, “Hush, it’s over. I’m off to bed.”
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