by Lacey Black
Harper flips the closed sign to open and makes sure all the lights are on. “That’s true. I mean, I could practice my stellar blowie skills for a night or two,” she says, her face tight in concentration, as if she were in deep thought.
“That’s true. No man every passes up a blowie.”
I spend my morning working the floor, helping the customers who come in, and restocking product. Harper is in her office most of the time, working on paperwork and orders, so I take the opportunity to browse the merchandise. I find this gorgeous light green bra and panty set with little white eyelets on it. What’s best is I find my size almost right away. Since my girls are a little on the smaller side, I always have trouble finding bras that fit right. Harper knows this, and always makes sure she stocks plenty of product in all shapes and sizes.
When the clock hits noon, Harper comes out of her office and stretches. “God, I hate being cooped up in there. But I got all of my new spring products ordered, and most of the bills paid, so I’ll call it a success.”
“Definitely,” I tell her setting the bra and panty set on the counter.
“Are those for you? That color would be gorgeous against your fair skin,” she says, toying with the lace on the bra cup.
“I thought so too.”
“I’m going to meet Latham next door in his office for lunch. Will you be okay for a bit?” she asks, glancing around at the now-empty store.
“Fine, fine. Go have lunch—and lunchtime nookie—with your hot husband,” I tell her, shooing her with my hand.
“I thought you were all for helping me give the vag a dick-break. Now you’re encouraging me to go attack it like a Christmas ham.”
I pull a face. “Who attacks a Christmas ham?”
“Have you ever had Kitty’s ham? She puts a brown sugar rub and pineapple rings on it to sweeten it up. It’s amazing,” she sings.
“If I ate pig, I’d totally eat that.”
“Right? Anyway, I think he brought leftovers. If there’s any left, I’ll bring some to you.”
I have her off. “Don’t worry about it. I know how much your husband eats. I can run across the street and grab a salad from the deli.”
“If you’re sure,” she says, giving me a look.
“Definitely. Go eat. I’ll be fine. See you in a bit,” I tell her, turning back to the counter and ringing up my new purchase.
“See you soon.”
And then I’m left alone with a room full of lingerie.
I spend the next ten minutes refolding the panties in the bins, displaying them just the way Harper likes. Just when I’m about to move on to another task, the bell over the door chimes. I’m actually super stoked to have a customer, hopefully to help pass the time. However, when I turn around, it isn’t the face of a happy customer. Oh, no. This one looks awkward as fuck, and he’s trying his damnedest not to look at any of the sexy displays.
Samuel.
I’m so shocked to see him at the front door of the one place everyone knows makes him horribly uncomfortable; all I can do is stand there and stare back.
“Hey,” he says, reaching up with one hand and adjusting his necktie. “I, uh, thought you might need lunch.”
“Oh,” I stammer, still completely shocked he’s here.
He glances down at the bag in his hand. “If you’ve already eaten, I can just head back to work,” he starts, but I quickly cut him off.
“No, I haven’t eaten anything. I’d love to have lunch.”
Samuel takes a tentative step forward, his eyes darting to a nice satin negligée on a mannequin. “If you’re sure,” he says, very slowly, clearing his throat.
“Definitely,” I say, finally recovering. “Come on back here. Your sister is next door with Latham, so I should stay up here and man the counter.”
“Okay,” he replies, quickly glancing around at the pretties hanging and displayed near him. I can’t help but smile at the blush he’s trying to conceal by dropping his head.
I move everything off the back counter as he sets down a bag and pulls a few containers from within. Chinese. He opens steaming tubs of vegetables and rice, teriyaki noodles, and sautéed mushrooms. My stomach growls instantly. “This looks yummy,” I tell him, grabbing the two stools and moving them to the table.
“I wasn’t sure what to get, but I remembered you talking about the vegetables and rice.”
“It’s my favorite,” I reassure him.
I could run back to the small kitchen area in back but decide against it. Instead, we use the chopsticks provided, and eat together out of the containers. I thought Samuel would say something about germs and sharing, but surprisingly, he hasn’t. When I dive into the veggies and rice, he helps himself to the teriyaki noodles, and after a few bites, we switch it up.
Who knew sharing Chinese food could be so easy and satisfying.
When my stomach is full of goodness, I pat myself on the belly and push away the food. “Thank you so much. I didn’t realize I was starved until I started eating and couldn’t stop.”
“You’re very welcome,” he says, patting his mouth with a napkin and picking up the empty containers. “You’ve brought food plenty of times to work at the funeral home. It’s the least I could do,” he tells me.
“And doing it without asking first? Look at you and your sudden bout of spontaneity.”
“It’s new to me,” he confesses with a sheepish grin. When he does it, laugh lines appear around his eyes and he suddenly looks younger. Carefree. It’s an appearance I’m not used to seeing on Samuel.
“You’re doing just fine,” I reassure him, patting his hand.
Suddenly, an idea sparks to life, and even though I definitely shouldn’t, I’m definitely gonna.
Glancing around the empty store, the moment he throws all the trash in the bin, I reach for his hand. He seems a little hesitant at first, but follows behind me as I guide him toward the dressing rooms. Even though he’s most certainly a little uncomfortable as I lead him through the masses of panties, he doesn’t say a word.
Not until I open the dressing room curtain and motion for him to step inside.
“Uh, Freedom?” he asks, giving me a look of both concern and horror.
I offer him my sweetest grin with devil horns and pull him completely inside. “Come on, Sammy. Live a little.” Then, I push against his shoulders until he plops down on the small bench.
The surprised look on his face makes me smile even wider. “Wh-what are you doing?”
Before he can process what I’m doing, I drop to my knees between his legs and run my hands up his thighs. “I’m saying thank you for lunch.”
“Thank you?” he asks, and then like the flip of a switch, he must realize what I mean. “What? Freedom! You can’t do that here,” he scolds, his voice low and harsh, yet there’s no denying the hint of excitement in his eyes.
“I can, and I will,” I tell him, reaching up to unfasten his belt. He doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t really assist either. He seems torn between what’s right (not receiving a blowie in his sister’s shop’s dressing room) and what’s wrong (enjoying the hell out of a blowie in his sister’s shop’s dressing room).
When I get his pants undone, and I need his assistance to get them down past his hips, he finally speaks again. “I’m not sure about this, Freedom.” His voice is still low, like a whisper, but there’s a definite current of desire with it.
“All you have to do sit still there for a few minutes. I realized I’ve never really done this to you, and I really, really want to wrap my mouth around your cock right now and suck you off.”
His eyes widen and darken, his cock jumps in his pants. “See? He wants to come out and play too,” I add, running my palm over the entire hard length of his erection.
“Shit,” he mumbles. “But, what about…what about Harper? Or a customer?”
I blow out a breath. “I’ll be able to hear the bell over the door. Plus, we’ll be done before she gets back, if you’d actually tak
e off your pants and let me get started.”
As I stroke him through his trousers a few more times, I can see the moment I win the battle. He sags against the wall and he closes his eyes with a deep exhale. Then, he reaches down, lifts his hips, and helps remove his pants and tighty-whities.
Leaning forward, I waste no time. I take his long, hard cock in my hands and bend down. I lick the tip, tasting the salty wetness seeping from his erection, before taking him down my throat. A gasp fills the small space as his hips flex. “Shit,” he mumbles.
With a sassy grin, I tell him, “Hang on, Sammy. This is going to be a wild and fast ride.”
Chapter Nineteen
Samuel
Fast and wild.
No shit.
I can barely breathe as she wraps her mouth around my dick and practically swallows it whole. “Jesus.” I gasp, trying to pay attention for the bell, listen for my sister’s arrival, and watch as Freedom tries to devour my cock as if it were the main course in Nathan’s Hotdog Eating Contest.
Then she reaches down and strokes my balls. My hips thrust upward, all on their own, as I try for a little more of that sweet friction her mouth creates. It’s amazing, like her, especially when she palms my balls and squeezes. Not hard, but enough that I feel electricity spread through my blood.
Freedom continues to work me over, stroking long and firmly with her hand and taking as much of me into her mouth and throat as she can. And my eyes? They’re transfixed on her. Her movements, her mouth, the way her throat bobs as she swallows and gasps for air. And her eyes? They’re locked on my face the entire time. Something passes between us as our gaze locks.
Her tongue swirls around the head of my cock. It tickles, but the good tickle, and I feel it in my balls. They draw up and my orgasm is just within grasp. I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten off so quickly before by blowjob. But with Freedom? I’m ready to blow in less than two minutes.
That’s when she goes for broke. She takes me as far as she possibly can and with a single finger, strokes and presses into this spot just behind my balls. I erupt. Her throat constricts around me as she strokes my cock with one hand and rubs behind my balls with the other. I don’t even have time to warn her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her eyes lock on mine once more as I rock my hips and empty myself down her throat. Even after I’m left with nothing but trembles, she watches me, and I her.
She gently slides my cock from her mouth, licking and sucking off any remaining wetness as she goes. I sag against the wall, thankful it’s there to help keep me from falling to the ground. I’m suddenly boneless and spent, my body completely sated and happy. “Shit,” I grumble, closing my eyes.
After a few seconds, Freedom giggles. “I knew that would work.”
I open my eyes and glance her way. “Knew what would work?” I ask, finally recalling I’m sitting in my sister’s dressing room with my softening cock hanging out.
As I stand up and start to pull up my pants, she laughs again, righting her long skirt and straightening her top. “Pressing the magic button. It makes a great blowie a fucking phenomenal one.”
“Magic button?” I ask, almost absently. “Blowie?”
“You know, the spot behind your balls? Makes the cock erupt like Mount St. Helens in a matter of moments,” she tells me bluntly.
“Jesus, Freedom,” I whisper, shoving my shirt back into my pants, and spending several long seconds making sure my shirt buttons and the fly of my trousers line up perfectly.
“What? Did it not work?”
I open my mouth to argue but can’t seem to find the words. Did it work? Does the sun rise in the east and set in the west?
You know it.
“We should get back out there,” I tell her, adjusting my tie in the mirror. It has a slight wrinkle where she grabbed it, which is funny, but I don’t recall her pulling on my tie at all. But I know she has this thing for it, and always has her hands on it, straightening or smoothing the soft material.
“We should,” she says, a broad smile on her face. She looks beautiful. Happy. Carefree. I’m not sure what comes over me, but I wrap my arms around her and press my lips against hers. The kiss is tender, almost sweet, but causes a stir in my pants just the same. I never would have thought I could get hard so quickly, but here I am, starting to feel the tightness in my groin once more.
“Freedom,” I start, trailing open-mouthed kisses across her jaw. “We shouldn’t…”
She grabs me by the crotch and squeezes, making me jump. “We definitely should,” she sasses, biting my jaw. “Tonight. I’ll let you return the favor.”
My cock jumps at the thought.
“Come on, Sammy. Let’s get back out there.” Freedom takes me by the hand, throws the curtain back, and steps out. I’m right behind her and slam into her back when she stops. Glancing up, I see the reason for the sudden halt.
“Samuel?”
I stare back at my sister and brother-in-law. They’re both wearing a surprised look that’s quickly replaced with humor. “Dude,” Latham mumbles, nodding down to my pants.
When I glance that way, I find my zipper down. “Shit,” I murmur, rapidly zipping my fly.
“Do I even want to know what you two were doing in my dressing room that would result in your zipper being down?” my sister asks, unable to meet my eyes.
She glances at her best friend, who just shrugs. “A blowie.”
Harper’s jaw drops to the floor as Latham bursts into laughter.
“Freedom!” I chastise.
“What?” she asks, glancing my way. “We were talking the other day about the magic button behind the balls, and I’m happy to report, it works just as well as you said it would.” Freedom looks at Harper and nods happily.
“Oh, yeah, the magic button,” Latham coos, smiling from ear to ear.
“Totally works!” Freedom replies to him, excitedly.
“Don’t I know it.” To my sister, he says, “Maybe we should slip into the dressing room and you can press the magic button.”
I clear my throat and straighten my necktie. “I really don’t need to hear that.”
“And I don’t really need to see you coming out of my dressing room with your fly down and that just got a blowie look on your face,” Harper retorts with a smirk.
Quickly turning to Freedom, I tell her, “I should get back to work. I’ll, uh, see you tonight?”
“Definitely,” she sings, smiling widely as she walks my way. “I’ll make dinner tonight, and then you can have me for dessert.” With a wink, she heads off to get back to work, leaving me standing in the middle of the boutique with a smile and a hard-on.
“Gross,” Harper says before kissing her husband and heading off to work.
Latham smiles, watching her go. Before he makes his way back to his own business, he leans in and whispers, “So, the magic button. No shame in barely lasting when that’s pushed. Happens to the best of us.” He slaps me on the back and heads back to the hardware store.
I can feel the burn of mortification on my cheeks, but after one last glance at Freedom before I slip out the door, I’m surprised that’s not what accompanies me back to work.
It’s the thought of dessert.
***
It’s been a long day. Two families arrived almost simultaneously to plan funerals, and each one took time. Elma was there and helped, but all I kept thinking about was how great Freedom and I work together. Elma’s well past retirement age, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if Freedom were there all the time. Well, it’d be chaotic, I’m sure, in true Freedom fashion. But it would also be enjoyable and soothing having her close day in, and day out.
I pull into my driveway and park my car beside her beat-up old POS. She really needs a new car. Something more reliable. However, if I know her as well as I think I do, she won’t accept one as a gift, nor will she openly talk about it, unless it’s her idea first.
When I reach the door, I go to slide my key into the lock whe
n I find it slightly ajar. Worry steals my breath as I gently push the door open. “Freedom?”
“Hey!” she bounces down the hallway, a load of laundry in her arms.
“Why was the door open?” I ask, stepping inside and closing it securely behind me. Then, I throw the lock.
“It was?”
“Yes,” I tell her, a hint of annoyance in my tone. “You can’t leave the front door standing wide open, Freedom. Did you know more than 325,000 houses are still broken into a year? Even with security systems and those fancy doorbells that take video. That’s every thirteen seconds, Free.”
She’s staring at me across the room, her eyes wide. She doesn’t say anything for several seconds, not an argument or even a roll of her beautiful eyes. She just stands there, and I’m starting to wonder if she’s okay. “Free?”
Suddenly, she drops the dirty clothes she was carrying on the floor and practically launches herself into my arms. I stumble back a few steps, but am able to quickly right myself, considering she’s so small and weighs practically nothing. Then, her mouth slams into mine so hard, I wonder if we didn’t just crack a few teeth. But I don’t pay the jarring any further attention when her tongue presses into my mouth and dances with my own.
She groans as she tightens her arms around my neck, pressing her chest into mine. My hands grip her ass as she rocks into my erection. I move, walking her to the wall, and pressing her back against it. Freedom wiggles and I can feel her nipples pressed through each of our shirts. It makes my hands itch to touch them.
When I’m mere seconds away from taking her to the bedroom, she rips her lips from my own, her eyes hooded with lust. “Shit, Freedom,” I gasp, the ache in my pants prominent. “What was that?”
She smiles widely. “You called me Free. You’ve never called me that.”
“And you felt the need to attack me?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around it.
“No, that was the hum between my legs talking, Sammy,” she says as she pats my shoulder. Carefully, she slides down my body, her hands smoothing out the wrinkles that now appear on my shirt. “Come on, let’s go cook dinner. I’m starved.”