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Saving Grace (part one) I’d been thinking about Grace for a while, but my over-riding view of her was mainly wrapped in sympathy. She was in her early 60s and in great shape for her age, maybe five-foot-five, blonde still, and slim with great proportions and curves in all the right places. Her husband John was in his 80s, massively overweight, and had been seriously ill for the entire 15 years I’d lived just up the road from them. From the moment I’d arrived in the village, I’d been warned that my neighbours thought the rest of the village was beneath them, and for the first ten years I lived here they did nothing to alter that impression. It was maybe five years before Grace even said hello and for the better part of the next decade our contact never got much beyond that. I’m not sure I exchanged more than ten words with John in all that time. Then, about 18 months ago, a had a phone call late one evening. It was Grace – I had no idea that she even had my number. John has collapsed again, but this time she couldn’t get him off the floor and he was refusing to let her call an ambulance – the paramedics had been there a couple of times in as many weeks already. I pulled on my boots and ran down the lane to help. I knew he was a big man, but damn, he was heavy. I’m no lightweight myself, 6-foot-2 and nigh on 200lbs, but anyone who has tried to lift 22 stone dead weight off the floor will know exactly what I mean. I only realised then just how ill he really was, but what made it worse was the way he spoke to Grace. I knew he was frustrated, angry, and understandably embarrassed that she’d had to call me for help, but there was an undercurrent to his words that I could see straight through. The guy was an arsehole, even to his wife – especially to his wife. An arsehole and a bully. I could sense her humiliation at being spoken to in such a way in front of me, but he didn’t seem to care. I often wondered whether his abuse had gone beyond just words in the days when he had been more mobile. And so it continued for the next few months – John would have a fall, I’d help pick him up and all the while he’d treat Grace like shit. If it hadn’t been for Grace, I’d have left the mean old bastard where he was, but I just couldn’t do that to her. As time went on, Grace and I became more friendly. Well, not friendly exactly, but I’d come home from work to find a freshly baked cake on my doorstep or a pot of stew or something similar. I guess it was her way of showing her gratitude – not just for my help with John, but more for keeping her daily torment secret. Things took a forward step last summer - you’ll remember that heatwave. Damn, it was hot. I was doing some work on the edge of my property with a brushcutter one morning before the heat got too intense, but even so it was roasting and I had had to take my shirt despite the flying twigs and nettles. The sweat was pouring off me. “You can come and do mine if you like,” I heard a voice say above the noise of the machine. I turned to see Grace standing in the lane. It struck me as odd as I’d never seen her walk up this way before, but then people were breaking their normal routines just to avoid that endless heat. I laughed and she smiled. “Everything ok?” I asked. “Is John all right?” “He’s fine,” she said, the smile fading. “Well, same as ever.” I nodded. “And you?” I asked. “I’m ok.” We stood in silence for a moment or two and then she said something about letting me get back to work and walked back towards her place. I watched her go and saw her glance back over her shoulder once or twice. And that’s how things continued for a while: I’d help with John when needed, she delivered cakes and other treats, and we’d chat a little more. Then one autumn evening I was coming home from work and spotted yet another ambulance in the driveway outside their house. I heard a few days later that John had been taken into hospital and then been transferred to a care home, it seemed unlikely he’d be coming home – at least not any time soon. I saw Grace briefly once or twice and exchanged a few words here and there over the next couple of weeks. Maybe I was imagining it, but it seemed to me that as the days passed it a weight was slowly being lifted from her shoulders. Then I saw her in the village shop one afternoon and she asked if I could help her in the garden for a couple of hours later in the week. The work was easy enough even in a light rain - just clearing some branches that had come down in a storm, but by the time I was done my clothes and hands were wet and muddy. She invited me in to wash up and have a coffee so I followed her into the kitchen. The house felt completely different without John’s sick and overbearing presence. “I’m so grateful for all you’ve done for me,” she said as she filled the kettle. She had her back to me so I couldn’t see her face, but I sensed an uncertainty in her voice. “Think nothing of it,” I said, admiring the curves of her arse in her jeans as I waited for her to leave the sink so I could wash my hands. “Anything you need, anything at all, you know where I am. “ She put the half-filled kettle down on the worktop and paused. I could almost hear her heart beating. “Anything?” she asked, still not facing me. I took a step closer towards her so I was just a couple of feet behind her. I sensed her body tense. “Anything at all.” The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall. “Will you have sex with me?” The words fell from her mouth as if a dam had been broken and they gushed out uncontrollably. Her fingers gripped the edge of the sink. I stepped in behind her and slipped my muddy hands onto her hips. I could feel her body trembling. “I’d like nothing better,” I whispered close to her ear, pulling her tight to me so she could feel my cock hardening in my jeans against her arse. “But…” She froze. “But?” “I might want more than you’d expect in return,” I said, sliding my right hand up under her clean white t-shirt until I found her breast. She moaned softly as I ran my fingers over her nipple, already stiffening inside her bra. “I can be….” I paused as my fingers earned a reaction, “…more demanding than you might realise.” “I know,” she said, as my left hand snaked around her hip and opened the button and zipper of her jeans. My fingers, still cold and wet and muddy for their outdoor work, eased behind the waistband of her knickers. I pulled her tighter to me so she could feel the hardness of my cock then let my fingers ease on through the bush of her public hair towards their destination. I could feel the warm wetness that had soaked her knickers and then the hot folds of her lips. “I know what you are,” she whispered through a groan as I pushed my finger slowly inside her. Her lips parted in a grateful welcome and she moaned again as I eased deeper into her. She was soaking wet. “Is that so?” I whispered, then gently kissed her ear. “Yes,” she whimpered as my finger found her clit. “Yes….Yes, Sir.” We stood in all but silence, save for the moans and gentle sighs slipping from her lips, as my dirty fingers slowly worked her clit and nipple. Her breathing grew harsh and sharp, I could feel her body tense and tremble, her knuckles white as she gripped the sink edge “Are you going to cum for me, Grace?” I whispered. “Right here? Right now? In front of your kitchen window?” “Oh God,” she moaned. “Oh God.” I worked her clit a little harder and a little faster. “Yes,” she cried out. “Yes. Yes, Sir. I’m going to cum for you. Oh God! Oh God! I’m cumming for you now, Sir.” I felt the spasms in her pussy and her clit, the gush of hot, thick juices as her body shook under my unrelenting fingers. My right hand had to leave the pleasure of her breasts to wrap around her waist and hold her up as for I moment I thought her legs would give way underneath her. “It’s been so long, so, so long,” she mumbled as the tremors began to ease and I slowed my fingers so she could catch her breath. She still hadn’t looked at me since before making her proposal. I held her for a little while more, my cock throbbing hard inside my jeans, and then stepped away and pulled a chair out from under the table. I sat facing her in the middle of the kitchen. “Look at me, Grace,” I said at last. Slowly she turned, but kept her eyes fixed on the floor. Her white t-shirt was smeared with mud, her nipples showed proud even through her bra. Her jeans were still wide open with a large damp patch between her legs. I could glimpse the traces of my dirty handprints on her skin beneath her t-shirt and down into the pubes. I could see that her face, though turned to the floor, glowed red. “Come closer, Grace,” I said, beckoning her forward. She did as I instructed and came to a halt about two paces in front of me. “Was that what you wanted?” I asked. Slowly, she raised her head and looked me in the eye. She said: “I want more,” then added, “Sir.” She removed her t-shirt and jeans when I instructed and stood before me in just her underwear, nipples still erect despite the warmth in the kitchen and the wet patch on her cotton knickers was clearly visible. “Are you sure this is what you want, Grace?” “Yes, Sir,” she said, “but…” “But?” I asked. “But…please be gentle with me, Sir. I know what you are, and what you’ll demand, but it’s been a long time since I was with a man, any man, let alone a man like you.” “You’ve nothing to fear, Grace,” I smiled. “I’ll take good care of you. Now take off your underwear.” She unclipped her bra, stepped out of her wet knickers and stood before me naked in the middle of her kitchen. I eyed her slowly and deliberately from head to foot and back again, pausing at the growth of hair between her legs, at her breasts and on her face, making sure she realised my close attention. My cock twitched in my jeans. When I told her to turn slowly so I could see her from behind, she did as ordered without a word. The curves of her arse looked all the more delightful without the covering of her jeans. Once she had turned full circle and again stood facing me I sat in silence to enjoy the sight of her. I could see her nervousness lifting; could see her discovering the pleasure of being the subject of my gaze. “When was the last time a man saw you naked?” I asked. “A long time, Sir,” she said, “not for many years”. “And how does it make you feel?” “Excited, Sir. It’s making me wet again.” I summoned her forward and told her to lift my shirt off over my head. I could feel the trembling in her fingers as she ran her hands over my bare chest and shoulders. Her perfect tits rose and fell in front of me, but I resisted my initial urge to kiss them. She removed my boots and socks as requested and I reached out and stroked her hair as she kneeled at my feet and I could tell that she was smiling. I pulled her back up and guided her onto my lap, pulling her astride me to sit on my thighs though my jeans were still damp from the morning’s work. “Unbuckle my belt and unbutton my jeans,” I told her. She paused a moment as if considering whether this might be her final chance to step back, but instead she reached out to do what was required. She jumped and gave a muted moan as my cock moved beneath her touch, then eased my jeans down slightly over my hips. My cock tried and failed to stand in the cramped confines of my boxers. Grace’s eyes remained fixed on the bulge. “You know what to do,” I said eventually. Tentatively, she slid her hand into the waistband of my shorts and grasped the swollen shaft of my cock. “Oh, Sir,” she sighed, holding it tight. I inched my backside up off the seat and pushed my boxers down, allowing my cock to spring out hard and fully formed. Grace eased her hand along my full length and around my head, exploring the totality of my cock rather than stroking it for my pleasure. “Do you like my cock?” I asked. She nodded wordlessly without ever taking her eyes off my member. I slipped my hands under her arse and lifted her up off my lap. Wide-eyed and breathing hard she looked into my eyes as I lifted her closer to me, her hand still gripping my shaft. I manoeuvred her into position until my head brushed against her wet velvet lips. I could feel the anticipation surging through her and so paused to suck each of the nipples in front of my face. She moaned and whimpered with each gentle suck, and then I held her eye as I slowly lowered her down. Her hungry lips parted to receive me and her soft groans grew louder and more ragged as she took me inch by inch into her wetness. She had only taken half of me when I felt her start to clench and spasm. Her arms went around my shoulders and she leaned her head into me as another orgasm awoke her long dormant desires. I kept giving her more of me until she had me all, and then I left her rest, my swollen, throbbing cock lodged deep inside her as her climax slowed. Once her breathing had recovered and she’s managed to reclaim something of herself, I took hold of her wrists and eased her arms behind her, pinning them behind her back. “Now fuck me, Grace,” I ordered. “Ride that hard cock inside you.” Her face flushed and she nodded then slowly used her legs to slide up my shaft, each movement causing moans and groans and whimpers. She started slowly, awkwardly, but soon she found a rhythm to slide her soaking pussy up and down the fullness of my length. Sweat trickled down her face and I did nothing to help her ride me, beyond holding her pinned arms behind her back. “Is this what you wanted?” I said as my cock filled her again. “Yes Sir,” she moaned, her eyes closed tight. “You wanted to feel my hard cock inside you.” “Yes Sir. Oh God, yes. I’ve wanted it so long, Sir.” I could feel her speed increase with every word she uttered and knew another orgasm wasn’t far away. “And you know today is just the start of it.” Her eyes opened wide and her pace increased again. “Oh God, yes please Sir. You can have me every day, any time you want, any way you want.” She fought to get the words out as another climax hit. harder than before. Her entire body shook and still she worked my shaft. I could feel the ripples riding through her pussy, massaging my cock deep inside her. Her breathing was fast and sharp. Her legs began to buckle. Sweat dripped from her face onto her tits as she rode the waves of her own pleasure as I erupted inside her. She screamed as the first jet of my hot cum filled her and rode harder and faster with each wild spasm of my cock. We sat entwined, exhausted, once the last of my cum had pumped into her and her orgasm began to fade. She rested her head against my shoulder and I could feel her body shaking. Her breathing slowed and I could sense the pleasure of her contentment. Eventually, I lifted her off my lap and carried her to the chair where I’d so often placed her monstrous husband. “Thank you, Sir,” she smiled, completely spent. “I’ll see you very soon, Grace,” I said. “We’ve only just begun.” |
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Celtic ,.this rubbish is not your best ? Once apon a time ,and not so long ago , your writing ignited all my senses , it s quality and aliveness held me captive ,only this , this is bland ,limp and without passion and imagination . In short , cheap ,popular dross .
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. What happened to part 2?  xx "People who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do."
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. What happened to part 2? xxAh OK. I mentioned self publishing in my reply to your comment on my post - and a few other things What do you mean it isn't great? It just needs a bit of formatting and a bigger font. Anyway, hurry up - I'm dying to find out how she knows 'What you are'! Be careful. I originally planned 'Secrets and Lies' to be about a dozen parts long - and look where I ended up!  Talk soon no doubt. Shona xx "People who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do."
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Master , i did get wetter reading about Hildi, but this story took care of business too, please write more, im getting to know what you like, your writing ability and your knowledge of woman is fantastic. hmmmm i think a freezer will work welll for this choc. chip mint ice cream. smiles as i slam the freezer door closed. enjoy i sure did with respect issabella
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