Grace Pt 02 Grace Puts Out

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

Grace, Part II, Grace puts out - a direct continuation of Grace Part I. This will likely not make a lot of sense unless you've read that.

***

"And...?"

"It was nice."

"You mean he made you cream your jeans with some straight talk and went straight back to 'lovemaking'?"

"That's it! That top was meant to be ripped off and thrown away and the Daisy Dukes are an open invitation to all kinds of inappropriate behavior. Actually, I was getting ready to be disappointed in your response to them till you whacked me. Anyway, John and I coupled in a way that'll be safe when we're 70. Not that I'm 100 per cent complaining. I was already wet, and I am easy like I said and it had been a while and he does have a nice dick and ... I'm going to shut up now."

"I'll tell you what's almost as insane as that. I'm jealous that he almost stole my thunder by manning up a little and at the same time, I'm disappointed for you that he didn't show his soulless beast side and nail you. I guess that's your friend talking. Talking like a girlfriend actually. That's no good."

I stood back to have a moment to think when I saw what she was wearing. A light, and by light I mean diaphanous, summer dress that was not going to cut it in polite company if she sat down and sandals for sure. Back to that later.

"Was John home when you left?"

"Yep."

"Did he know where you were going?"

"Yep."

"Did he see what you're wearing?"

"Yep."

"What the hell? Just for clarity, tell me exactly how many pieces of clothing you have on."

"Four."

She didn't have to think very long about it but I guess four isn't a very big number especially counting 2 sandals. I know I'm supposed to be the aggressor here, but things just got a little bit less well-defined. And I may have breathed a little sigh of relief.

"If you count the necklace you gave me."

She's kind of dangling it in her fingers for me to see. Yeah, I know which one you mean. It's the only one I've ever given you and John picked it out for me. Retract the sigh of relief.

"Back to 'what the hell'," I said. "Did you two come ... I mean reach some kind of agreement or what? And how am I supposed to respect him, how is anybody in this small, cloistered town, supposed to respect him if he just rolls over on being a cuckold?"

"Excellent questions. Giving up on the clothing number, are we?"

"For now."

"Well, as you know, men especially are much more agreeable about things after they've had their ashes hauled. So when he and I had our post-coital chat, he was calm, even by his standards. That's when he told me what he knew and I told him that was everything except our talk on the porch. I did leave out you slapping me, and apparently your little lecture and demo about the right way for you to grab my tit didn't reach the volume of your hand on my ass, so I left that out too. Anyhow, the conversation seemed to be going so well and he'd had some time to think about it. He knows I'm not completely happy. He thinks an occasional snuggle fest or tickle fest would be OK, and he thinks he feels better knowing about it"

"In my tradition, there are sins of commission and sins of omission, and you just made a couple of whoppers of the latter kind."

"You're Catholic?"

Truthfully? "Multiply lapsed."

"So am I and so's John. We even got married in a Catholic ceremony."

"Great." Now I have guilt.

"Yeah. Kind of ironic given the context, huh?"

"So back to the clothing thing. Why did John think you were coming to visit me with no underclothes on?"

"The frog in hot water would be a bad analogy right here, wouldn't it?"

"Two guesses."

"Have you ever seen what happens to one of these dresses when the sun is behind a girl?" Don't change the topic unless you have a better one, which you clearly do.

I reached across the threshold, grabbed her wrist and pulled her ahead of me toward the living room.

"As a matter of fact, I have," emphasizing the last two words with a slap on each of her ass cheeks.

I then grabbed one cheek and squeezed, telling her that her cheek nicely filled one of my hands. Mystery from day 1 solved. I spun her around and sat her down on the couch with my left leg hooked around her right leg and my right leg holding her knees apart. With my free hand, I started slowly up her thigh as she tried to wiggle free or close her legs. Failing that, she tried to grab my hand, but I pulled it free and slapped her opposite thigh. She quieted right down.

"I think we can agree on two things. One, we both hope that John doesn't check us out from the porch again. I'm not sure what kind of fest he'd think we're having. Second, I think we both agree that since your skirt is already pretty well showing everything you've got (a quick look down confirmed this for her), the best use for your hands is to hold your skirt out of the way for me. I'll take questions now."

"Like this?"

"Great question and yes, I can see everything but your tits and I'm not interested in them today."

So my left hand touched and teased her shoulder, face, neck, throat, hair and upper chest while my right pretty much stayed with her upper thighs for a bit and then closed in on her pussy. I used the classic questions.

"How much do you want me to touch your pussy? Is it creaming for me? Do you know you're soaking my couch?"

Well, they weren't all classics, but you get the idea. Make her confess that she's desperate to get touched, beg for it and then agree that it's the best thing since sliced bread. I wasn't in a gentle mood, oddly. So I was pumping my fingers in and out of that pussy hard and fast. Her mouth seemed to seek out my fingers whenever they were close, and so I made a mess of her makeup, with her enthusiastic help. She came twice and I slowed my fingers's tempo a little after the first to let her catch her breath. It gave me a chance to concentrate on her hair. I left it pretty messy too. After her second orgasm, she was starting to flag, so I stopped with the fingering and just softly played with her clit. She was starting to warm up again when I stopped and told her it was time to go home.

"What? You're kidding. I haven't even touched you."

"But are you satisfied?"

"No, I'm still horny as hell."

"Well, you look like you just got laid. So take that home to your husband and see what kind of conversation you have."

"You are the meanest man. I hate you right now."

"Yeah. See you on Friday?" this being Tuesday.

"Yes, goddamnit."

"Ah, ah, cuss word. Bad time to bring up Catholicism?"

"Fuck you."

And so ended our 4th "date".

***

As expected, Grace acted a little cold from across the driveway. Turned away if by chance we were looking at each other. Drove off just a little too fast, actually chirped the tires once. Radio silence with the texting. I have never before purposely pissed a girl or woman off just for the pleasure of having her come crawling back with her tail between her legs. It is great! Not that I'll make a habit of it, but what Grace had asked for was coming to pass. I was in the catbird seat and I had no compunctions about using it. Does make me wonder what would have happened all those other times if I had followed my baser instincts instead of going totally cerebral on myself. By our brief tradition, it was my turn to go to her house, but I didn't go. I even left the porch light off. I may have been taking this asshole thing a little far. Time would tell.

8:20pm. Barely dark and there's hesitant steps on the porch. My plan: get her off the porch and in the door. So I wait till she's gotten to the door. Mmmm. A very soft-appearing pastel sweater and a simple skirt with bare legs and sandals.

"Hi there," giving her a chance to set the tone.

" I've been kind of cold this week."

"I've noticed," I said, giving nothing.

"I feel bad about it. I was all worked up and then I had to leave your house. I felt confused and I was anxious about going back home and talking to John, so ..."

"How did the talk go? Do you want to come in? How about a glass of wine?" OMG, I'm trying to mess with her judgement. But I know what to say without even thinking about it. I'm scaring myself, but I'm going to get this woman in my bed, and probably in hers.

"The talk didn't happen till morning, because he'd already fallen asleep when I got home. And it was OK, since I'd had a chance to clean up, no thanks to you."

"So I'm the boss o' you, but I can't mess your hair? And what happened to, 'John, Peter and I have started?'"

"Yeah, I expect that the boss o' me will at least mess up my hair sometimes, but it seemed lame to tell we had started when he already knew. I did tell him to ask any questions and I would answer them."

"But you didn't warn him not to ask too much for fear of finding out something he didn't want to know."

"No." Her shoulders slumped. "He doesn't know and he doesn't know that he doesn't know."

"Come on in the living room. Are you done with your wine?"

"Yes, but I'd like a little more. Aren't you having any?"

"How can I take advantage of you if I'm drunk too?"

I'd sat near one end of the couch and had her lie down with her head in my lap.

"Do you announce your evil plans to all your conquests?" she said as she moved her head around a little to get comfortable and see how her new best friend was doing.

"Only those who've surrendered before I've fired my first shot"

"Touche," she smiled up at me as I ran my fingers through her hair. "That's nice," she breathed.

"Close your eyes and relax. I'll put your wine on the end table."

"You're such a gentleman."

"Truly," I said as I laid my other hand on her chest and opened the top button of her sweater. Her breathing picked up a little. I left my hand where it was and asked, "When will John find out?"

"It's going to be really hard. I don't think he wants to know."

"Yep." I agreed. "I could tell him. Any idea when the last time was that he was in a fist fight?"

"John wouldn't do that."

"I think he might. I might in his shoes and we're a lot alike," I said as my hand glided onto her breast ... tit, damnit. She's a girl I'm going to bed her and she's got tits. I opened the next button. I knew there would be no protest, but no cooperation. I was on my own.

"What do think I should do?"

I slid my hand forward, under her sweater and onto the bare skin of her other brea ... tit. I gently squeezed the nipple between my fingers, getting an "Oh!" for my trouble. Her tits were warm and firm and the nipple stood right up. God, she has great tits. The part of me that thinks everything is funny thought, 'especially for a girl' but I would remain my only audience and I needed to stay out of my head and continue to think with my dick. Which noted that her tits were perhaps a little smaller than average, but such a nice shape and so sensitive.

" My suggestion is that you start with tonight and tell him everything I've done and will do to you. Like this, 'He invited me in, gave me some wine, then had me lay on his couch with his head on my lap while he played with my hair. After a moment, he started unbuttoning my sweater and playing with my tits."

"Do I have to say 'tits'? What happened to breasts?"

"They stopped being breasts the day I realized I could get my hands on them." Another soft pinch to her nipple, lasting longer. She squirmed.

"Do they always change into tits when they become available?"

"Nope. Yours are the first."

A small smile played across her face as I opened her third button and she locked eyes with me.

"What makes mine so special?"

"Their shape, firmness, nipples, years of unrequited and unrecognized lust, but mostly their owner."

Our voices had been getting gradually quieter as the conversation became more ... focused.

"Referring to you or me?" I could barely hear her.

"You tell me."

"When we were first talking about my tits, I thought they were mine, but now, not so much. Will you take them?" Fourth button

"Will you tell your husband that you offered your tits to me?" as I gently kneaded and stroked them. "Or will you say that I took them?"

"I'll tell him you took them, without any resistance from me."

"Mine," I said as I undid the last button and opened her sweater.

She leaned up to kiss me as I leaned down. Her hand covered mine and knit our fingers together, though my thumb was free to caress her. Of all the first times I've had, more than a few but not enough to brag about, this was my favorite. No nerves, for I was with my friend and we had already agreed on the limits, specifically, none, apart from things I wouldn't consider. This left only my desire to explore her and take what I wanted. I also held this last thought on the topic to myself. Theirs would be a very edgy conversation without any further input from me.

We kissed for a long time, my right hand holding her head up to kiss and my left exploring her tits, the texture of her skin and of the breast tissue itself, her reactions to my various touches on the different parts of her tits. I especially liked the sounds she made, moans and sighs and little catches in her breathing. And I liked that she only responded, never initiated. With the others, it took the responsibility off if they initiated something. They couldn't be offended if I touched this part or that, because they had put my hand there. But Grace, she'd taken pressure off the table altogether.

And so it was that I stopped kissing her and moved back an inch to stare into her beautiful brown eyes and admire their almond shape while my left hand slid slowly down her flat belly, and under the top of her skirt. She shivered and looked like she might speak, so my hand raced back to her lips to put a single finger there and hush her. So she smiled; we both did. I drew my finger back and forth across her lips till she began to lick it for a moment. I moved it down again, on top of the skirt to the hem and lifted it up. After I traced up and down each thigh and the fold between each thigh and her lips a few times, I put her on her feet facing away from me, pulled the sweater off her back and unbuttoned the skirt and let it slide down her slim hips to the floor. She stepped out of her sandals and she was bare.

I had never seen her naked before and she was, as I told her out loud for the first time, beautiful.

"Thank you," she said softly.

It was a lovely warm summer evening and it was just starting. I parted her long, straight black hair from behind and put half over each shoulder, leaving my hands on her shoulders.

"Breathe and relax," I told her. "We're going to have so much fun tonight. I'm going to run my thumbs down each side of your spine, while my hands stroke the prettiest back I've ever seen."

She thanked me again and I told her that having a chance to admire her with my eyes and hands was the rarest gift I'd ever gotten. I turned her around and lifted her chin to meet my eyes and told her I would take full advantage of that gift. She gave me a little smile and raised up on her toes for a quick kiss. She let me walk her to the bannister a few feet away. I took her two hands in one of mine and raised them above her head. Then I stroked every part of her I could reach with the other. I kept up a running commentary about how wonderful each new part was. Till I got to her snatch, when I couldn't speak for a moment. The skin was silky, warm and newly naked. Last time, she'd had the silky strands that Asian girls seem to. I groaned my surprise.

"For you," she whispered.

The mounds were full and firm and way sensitive. Her slit was moist and at it's top, a tiny bit of her clit peaked out from under it's hood. Or so my fingers told me before she rolled her hips instinctively to get away from them. That and the long kiss that followed promised a pleasure filled night. My fingers found her slit again and slid up as far as they could go, delighted by the damp satiny feeling of her insides. I started pumping her slowly, then increased the speed and depth a little at a time.

"So, tell me what John will hear in the am."

"I went to Peter's last night. He gave me some wine and played with my hair and my tits. Then he stripped me, held my hands over my head and felt me all, oh, ver. Oh, oh, mmm. Ooooh. Good. Real good. And then he stuck his fingers in my, are we going to call it my pussy? Mmmm."

"No, for you, it's a cunt"

"Figures. In my cunt. Do I have to tell him it's not the first time?"

"Yep."

"Do I have to, oh god, mm, mm, mm, tell him how many times I came?"

"Not if you tell him I made you dance on my fingers."

"Mmm. That's jacked up. Mmm."

"Yep."

She danced and came and danced a little more and came again. And then I let her down. She melted all the way to the floor, sitting on one hip and supporting herself with an arm while she caught her breath. I watched her lovely tits jiggle with each ragged breath.

"OK. No rest for the weary. Get up on your knees. It's time to put you on the cock."

She flinched a little and looked up at me, asking, "What did you say?"

"Don't you want to be put on the cock? Because you're going to be, one way or the other."

She moved herself onto her knees, "I'd love to be on the cock." She unzipped me and worked my cock out of my pants, then just stared at it for a bit, stroking it gently.

Looking down at her, "Are you sure about this?" Last chance, my friend.

"I'm completely sure." Looking up at me, deep into my eyes, "Would you put me on the cock? So I have to tell John you made me dance on your fingers and then worship your cock?"

"Yep."

I wove my fingers through the hair on the back of her head and pointed my cock at her with the other hand, her eyes still fixed on me.

"Open." I slowly pushed her mouth toward it and over it and down it. Every inch or so, she would push back to stop my progress. She opened her mouth a little and closed it like a kiss, then let me push a little further. Finally, I got her to the point where she gagged a little and I stopped. "Now you're on that cock and you'll stay on it until I say so."

Grace took her position very seriously. That cock didn't leave her mouth once. I let go once she was on it. And watched her expressions, from 'you should get comfortable, we're going to be here awhile,' to 'don't even try to think of something original or romantic to say when you've finished. 'Damn' or 'thanks' is fine. In fact, you're missing the point if you're thinking at all.' I'm looking down at that 'I've got you just where I want you' smile and your eyes are pools of fire. I am just along for the ride. She was so beautiful and on her knees before me.

"Your cock is, nice and hard. Do you like, watching me stretch, my mouth, over it?"

More sucking than talking, I liked that.

"God, yes. Do it again. Oh, god."

"You're trying, to hold out, on me. But you won't, last, much longer." She switched my cock to her hand. "Where will you finish? In my mouth? On my tits?"

Two head shakes 'no.'

"Oh, you dirty man. You're going, to humble me by coming on my face, aren't you?"

I'm out of words and breath. I nod. But my hands don't move.

"Oh, and have you no respect? I have to do it to myself?"

We both smiled and I lost it. I watched myself cum right where she was aiming, on her face, except for that moment where my vision got so dark. After a minute or two of her gentle kisses to my junk. we made it to the couch and did some very messy kissing together.

"Damn!"

"Peter?" she giggled.

"Hmmm?"

"Those were the best orgasms I've ever had. Thank you. But I really feel that I enjoyed yours more. I could almost feel your feelings. A pretty girl, there at your feet, only for your pleasure. She's no madonna. You made her spray your load on her face. And you reveled in the feeling. Thank you for that, too."