Set in New Zealand with Kiwi spelling and idioms.
*
CHAPTER 1
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 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."
"What 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."
"Pardon me?"
"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."
"Why?"
"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.
