Saved By The Belle Ch 03

When we awakened again, the sun was shining in the windows. Belle stirred, her silky hair tickling as she snuggled under my chin, a look of indecent satiation on her face.

“Good morning, baby,” I said, caressing her back. “Happy?”

“Mmmm… you have no idea,” Belle said in a purr. “I feel like butter all over. What time is it?”

I turned my head and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “8:30 of a lovely sunny Saturday morning.”

Belle reared up, a surge of adrenaline wiping the cat-in-the-creamery look off her face, replacing it with alarm. “8:30! I’ve got to get up and get dressed! I have to open the store for a ten o’clock start! I’ll never be able to dress and do my makeup in time!” She started to climb out of bed; I restrained her.

“Hang on a second, Belle,” I said. “You have an assistant manager, right?”

“Yes, but this is her day off,” Belle said, trying to wriggle out of my grasp but not very hard. “She takes Friday and Saturday, I take Sunday and Monday. I don’t like it when neither of us are there to supervise the clerks. The girls are okay, they’re honest, but – “

“You must have some contingency plan for when one of you is sick. Call her up and say you’re sick. Or if you don’t want to do that, ask her for a favor.”

Belle looked at me. “Why?”

I kissed her gently, not trying to initiate something, but to let her know I didn’t want her to go. How to phrase it?

“Because, baby, I think we can be more to each other than just a one night stand. You felt it last night, the same way I did. We owe ourselves the chance to find out.

“You call in sick today, and I’ll call in on Monday. I have enough personal days on the books that I can do that and no one will ask why. That gives us three days to get to know each other outside the bedroom, and of course,” I went on, kissing the side of her throat and pressing just a little with my teeth a la Dracula; she shivered deliciously, “having more fun here too. After four days together, we’ll pretty much know each other and we can decide where we’re going from there. No recriminations, no regrets, no strings if we don’t click, and a solid foundation for us if we do. What do you say?”

Belle looked into my eyes and I fell into hers, noticing gold flecks in then I hadn’t seen in the living room. She settled back down onto my chest and sighed, a finger toying with the hairs there.

“I think that’s a marvelous idea, lover. Let me get to the phone.”

Belle called her assistant manager, who fortunately was up and about. Although I could only hear one side of the conversation, her deputy, also obviously a friend, wasn’t too upset at having her day off canceled. She agreed to do the favor, with the understanding that Belle owed her one. Belle hung up the phone and came back to my arms.

“We’re all set,” she said, her fingers trailing over my chest as she laid her head on the pillows. “No one will bother us here. What would you like to do, baby? I’m yours on a silver platter, after last night.”

“Flattery indeed,” I smiled, my hands roaming over her body. “But I think the first thing we ought to do, before we have breakfast, is take a shower. “Your scent is divine, but I smell like a locker room at the half!”

“Are you kidding?” Belle laughed. “I whiff of eau de goat. I think we both need that shower.”

With a lithe movement, she slipped out of the bed and pulled me up by the hand into a hug, her head on my chest, my chin in her hair and contentment running through both of us. After a minute, she led me into her bathroom.

The master bathroom was typical of a condo: a shower stall and a tub big enough for two if they were friendly, tile floors and walls and a two-sink counter with marble top. Fluffy towels hung off chrome wall racks, and a profusion of feminine beauty products covered most of the counter space. Belle opened the glass shower stall door and turned on the water. We kissed leisurely while we waited for the water to warm up, our tongues touching and tingling as our hands roamed up and down each other’s bodies, stroking sensation from each other like guitarists bringing forth music from their instruments.

Belle took liquid body wash and worked up a lather on my chest. Without haste, she washed her way down my body until she got to my cock. Taking more soap, she used both hands to ‘clean’ it, masturbating me into a raging erection. Sluicing it off, she took me into her mouth, ignoring the water soaking her hair as she sucked it like a Popsicle until it was standing proudly out, ready for action.

She stood up, her firm tits rubbing my chest in the tight quarters. She smiled impishly.

“Your turn, lover,” she said, putting her hands on my shoulders and rocking against me slowly.

I picked up the shampoo and poured a little into my hand. Belle closed her eyes and turned her back to me. I enjoyed the feel of her buttocks pressing against my cock, remembering how this affair had begun the day before. Taking my time, I worked shampoo into her scalp and cleaned her hair, combining the shampooing with a scalp massage. Belle purred under my ministrations, letting me know she approved of what I was doing.

Switching to the body wash, I reached around her and carefully ‘washed’ her breasts, going over every inch of them several times to make sure I got every last bit of sweat and dirt. I paid special attention to the brown roses that tipped them, making sure they harbored no thorns to prick my fingers. She squirmed against me and tipped her head back on my shoulder. I kissed her and sighed as she sucked on my tongue as she had my cock a few minutes before, inviting greater intimacies.

My hands quested farther south, gliding over the curve of her toned stomach and moving to her valley of delight. I worked up a good lather in her pubic hair, cleaning her of our mixed secretions with just a twinge of regret. A man likes to put his mark on a woman he has had, even if only temporarily.

My fingers found her clit and began to caress it. She moaned and leaned against me, pinning me against the stall’s glass wall as she moved her perfect ass up and down, rubbing my cock even as I teased her into full arousal. After a couple of minutes of this mutually-imposed torture, I could feel the oils from her sweet pussy on my fingers. Belle turned around and pulled my head to her, her mouth eager against mine as she kissed me.

“Do you remember how you picked me up last night and put me on the bed?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, leaning down to nibble at the junction of her neck and shoulder like a vampire preparing to feed.

“Do it again – only this time, put me down on that fuckstick of yours. I want you in me again, and I’ve never done it in the shower. Take my shower cherry, lover.”

I chuckled at the idea of there being such a thing as a ‘shower cherry,’ but if she was willing, so was I. I grabbed two handfuls of prime female ass and lifted my lover up a good two feet. Belle wrapped her legs around my back and I carefully lowered her back down, trying to line us up by feel. Belle helped by reaching down between us and grabbing my cock; I lifted her just a little higher as she positioned my raging bone at the entrance to her pussy and wiggled it a little.

She gasped in surprise as I lowered her onto it. She wasn’t as slick as she had been last night, probably because the water coming out of the shower head was washing away her lovedew before it could do what nature intended and ease my entrance into her waiting hole. There was friction this time, friction that stopped just short of discomfort. I held her like that for a few seconds, then lifted and lowered her slowly, trying to simulate a normal fucking rhythm.

Belle nipped at my nose. “Don’t do that, honey. Just sit me all the way down on that beautiful thing and brace us good. I’ll do it all.” She locked her lips to mine as I positioned us so we didn’t have to worry about anything but my legs giving way.

She hooked her arms under mine and grabbed my shoulders to give us added solidity, her tongue dancing inside my mouth as mine contested right of way with hers, the erotic sensations heightening my arousal. I could feel pre-cum leaking out of the tip of my cock as Belle used only her pussy muscles to pleasure us. A peeping tom would have thought we were standing motionless in the warm spray, but from the inside it felt like a minor earthquake was shaking our conjoined crotches.

Belle was a sexual artiste. I heard her breathing deepen and she sighed contentedly as her talented twat rippled and squeezed my throbbing hard-on. I could feel her rocking her pelvis just a little to bring her clit into contact with me. She broke the kiss and threw her head back, eyes shut, enjoyment written all over her face. I dropped my face to her boobs and licked her nipples, going from one to the other, trying to tickle them and give my lover more pleasure.

Moans of, “Oooh, yes, baby… ooooh… what you do to me… you animal… I’m supposed to be pleasuring YOU… ohhh…” indicated to me I was succeeding.

The tempo of Belle’s pussy on my cock increased. I knew I would have to cum soon, whether she made it or not. Damn, but she was good!

“Ohhh, Belle,” I grunted, squeezing her buttocks hard enough to leave fingerprints in her taut, firm flesh, “I can’t hold out much longer. I need to cum!”

She tightened her legs around my back and began to raise and lower herself an inch or two on my cock, using her arms on my shoulders like a pull-up bar. Up, down, up, down, not fast but steady, like a walking-beam engine driving a pump.

“Don’t worry about me,” she gasped. “This is for you. I don’t care if I make it or not, I want YOU to make it. Go ahead and shoot your cum in me. Let me feel it. I want to feel your cock spray. Give me your cum. Give it to me, you animal! Shoot it into me! Ahhhh, so gooood…”

I reached up a hand and pulled her head to me, my vision graying at the edges from the intensity of what she was doing to me. I couldn’t resist any more and didn’t want to. Taking the same grip on her shoulders that she had on mine, I caught her at the bottom of her stroke and forced her to stay bottomed out. My legs trembled both from the task of holding us up and from the force of my orgasm as my dick stiffened and shot wad after wad of hot cum deep into her pussy. She moaned in surprise as a small climax overtook her, too; a bonus she clearly hadn’t expected. My legs finally gave out and we slid down the wall of the shower stall, ending in a tangled heap, kissing whatever parts of the other we could reach as the shower door popped open and we tumbled out onto the floor.

We lay there panting, heedless of the water that spilled onto the floor. When we could breath normally again, Belle rolled away from me and said, “Oh, my! I never imagined that fucking in the shower would be like that! Thank you, love.”

I caught her hand and kissed its palm, watching a flush rise on her beautiful face. “Me either. I hope you liked it enough to try it again some time.” She leaned over me and gave me a quick peck.

“Count on it. But right now I’d better take a quick shower - by myself. If I took you in there with me, we’d end up with you IN me again; and fun as that is, we really ought to make breakfast before it turns into lunch!”

Clad in bathrobes, we went downstairs to the kitchen and put together a breakfast of finger foods, the cooking frequently interrupted by caresses in passing as we worked. We ate on the couch, content to be in each other’s company, maintaining contact between us with the intertwining of fingers, a leg draped over the other’s, a hand resting on the thigh. We discovered it wasn’t enough to be in close proximity; we had to touch, as if reassuring ourselves that we weren’t a dream and the other was real.

After the dishes were in the dishwasher, we retreated back to the living room and cuddled together on the couch just to talk, although we didn’t let conversation stop us from gentle kisses, fondlings and fingerings. We realized that although we knew each other in bed intimately, any lasting relationship has to have more to it than just fabulous sex.

We talked about politics and were secretly relieved to learn that we were close enough in our views on almost everything that we could discuss issues without acrimony. We talked about hobbies, interior decoration, and our tastes in food. Belle and I found we were safely alike in our tastes in fiction, movies and TV shows, and had similar outlooks toward money and finances.

We differed on dance and music. Belle liked popular music and could dance club-style as naturally as breathing; while I was devoted to classical music, thought the decline of Western Civilization began with the rise of the hair bands, and surprised Belle by telling her I knew how to dance ballroom-style (I promised to teach her how to waltz and tango). The sun had vaulted across the sky and was dropping toward the western horizon when we finally found ourselves talked out.

Belle was nestled in my arms, dozing, her back to my chest, my legs keeping her from escaping, content as a kitten in a sunbeam. I looked down at her face, lovely in repose, and had a thought. I kissed her forehead.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. I want to ask you something.”

“Mmmnh?” she said as she sleepily turned in my arms to look up at me.

“I don’t have anything to wear except what I had on yesterday. How about if we go over to my place so I can get some casual clothes? We can spend the night there, or we can come back here if you’d rather. Your choice, either way. Just so we’re together.”

Belle considered for a minute, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“Okay. You take the bedroom and get dressed. I’ll dress in the guest room, I have some clothes there. Meet you at the front door in five minutes.”

I went upstairs and dressed in my crumpled clothes, snagged my blazer from the living room as I passed through, and was waiting at the front door when Belle arrived in a floor length coat that concealed her from the shoulders down. We got into my car and went out to my house in the next town over, holding hands as I drove.

I was pleased with Belle’s first reaction to my place. A two-floor colonial, it has plenty of room and a good thing too, given my antique-hunting hobby. She liked the kitchen I had redone in Industrial Stainless, and the fact that all the floors were hardwood with rugs instead of contractor-grade wall to wall carpeting. I left her prowling the first floor while I dashed upstairs to change.

I had just finished belting my dungarees and was reaching for my comfortably broken in deck shoes when I heard Belle call up the stairs to me.

“Honey, can you come down to the study for a minute?”

I walked down the stairs and went down the corridor off the living room. My study, with a fabulous 1820s partners’ desk I had unearthed in two separate pieces in a 19th century factory, bought for next to nothing and refinished over the course of a year; and solid oak shelves that came out of a demolished mansion, was to me the heart of the house, the place where I felt most secure. I wasn’t surprised that Belle wanted to hear about it, but I was surprised by what I found when I walked through the door.

Belle was waiting for me, standing with downcast eyes, her hands clasped modestly in front of her. She was wearing a Catholic schoolgirl outfit of black flats, dark blue tights, white long-sleeved blouse with a tie that matched the tights, and a jumper in what looked like a blue version of the MacDonald Hunting Tartan, the sort of gawdawful plaid favored by parochial schools. I almost broke stride and asked what she was playing at, when for once my mental censor engaged BEFORE my mouth operated and I realized that was exactly what this was. She was playing a role, though whether the role was a kink of hers or just a fantasy, I’d have to deduce as I went.

“All right, Belle. What have you done THIS time, that Sister Mary Frances sent you to me?” I asked, playing for time. I needed more information before I’d know what my part was in Belle’s scenario.

“Coach, we weren’t doing anything wrong!” she said. “Billy McAllister dared me to, and I didn’t want him to – to think I was, like, chicken or anything. I mean, I know he’s on the varsity and he’s dating the head cheerleader, but I thought maybe he was tired of cherry vanilla – “

“Belle, what did you do?” I interrupted, falling into my role. “I have games to win this season, and the last thing I need is to have the school slut nosing around my star quarterback! Just what happened? And tell it straight, or you’ll have a meeting with Corporal Punishment,” I threatened.

I pointed to an umbrella stand by the door. It held a collection of walking sticks, including one slender rattan cane that looked like the sort of thing alumni of Catholic schools claim nuns and priests once used to punish them. She swallowed, whether playing her role or out of fear I was getting too far into mine I could not tell.

“I – I flashed him in Spanish class… and I fingered myself so he could see… and then I passed him a note with my juices on it daring him to meet me in the book room to get something better than that hoity-toity little rich-bitch he’s dating.”

“And Sister caught you flaunting yourself. And she wants someone to do a better job on your ass than she can, being that she’s getting old?”

She looked down at her feet. “No, sir. It’s worse than that.”

I sat behind my desk. “Don’t make this a trip to the dentist, Belle. I don’t want to have to dig the story out of you. What happened?”

“He met me in the book room, all right. I thought he locked the door. We were just getting into it when Sister walked in and caught us.” She squeezed her hands together.

“Caught you doing what?” I growled.

“I – I can’t say it,” she stammered.

I got up, drew the curtains, closed the study door and locked it with an audible click. I walked back and settled into the leather chair in front of the desk. Belle watched me with little sidelong looks, playing her part to the hilt and waiting for her next cue.

“Show me, then,” I demanded.

She sat on the edge of the desk, rucked the jumper up above her waist and spread her legs. I could see that the blue tights weren’t tights at all, but rather suspender hose, with what is normally the panty part of pantyhose cut away to form front and back suspenders and a belt for the hose while leaving the ass, pussy and hips exposed. She began to masturbate, blushing with embarrassment at first. Her fingers worked along her clitoris and her labia engorged, swelling larger as the first hint of moisture appeared. Belle’s free hand dipped into her cunt, two fingers moving in and out in time with the stroking of her clit. She moaned in a combination of embarrassment and lust as her fingers went in and out, dry at first but quickly turning slick as her arousal grew.

I cleared my throat. “And what happened next?”

Belle looked at me, sseing the lump in my crotch. Her eyes glittered.

“Then Billy wanted me to do it to him,” she whispered, staying in character.

“Jack him off?” I asked?

“No,” she said. “This.”

She pulled me to my feet and dropped to her knees. She undid my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my trousers, and pulled them and my boxers down around my ankles. My cock sprang out. She grabbed it and rubbed the head over her face, leaving a trail of pre-cum glistening on her cheeks before she sucked it into her mouth and began to give me head.

I closed my eyes and let my lover play the role she’d selected. Belle took her time, licking the shaft, teasing the head, taking her time, never letting up for a moment. I let her go on for a few minutes before I reached down and pulled her up by the hair.

“And did Billy get off on this? Or did he use you properly?”