The excitement of purchasing a home includes the daunting task of furnishing it. I had purchased a new house and other than setting up the basics of a bedroom, sofa, refrigerator, and laundry equipment, I didn’t know where to start as far as decorating was concerned. Some well-meaning friends steered me toward discount furniture outlets, but I wanted better quality. I searched for a showroom that caters to a more discriminating clientele and found such a place across town. It was privately owned and I was able to consult with the owner. To begin my furnishing endeavor I chose a Stickley Park Slope dining table with its associated chairs. Satisfied with the experience, I returned to the store after some weeks to make additional purchases.
“I love the dining room set,” I explained to Mark, the owner. “Now I’m looking for office furniture. I need a desk and file cabinet.” I provided him with a graph of the room and we sat down to design my office.
“The Urban Collection from Yutzy would be perfect for this room,” Mark concluded.
“From who?”
“Yutzy Woodworking. They’re an Amish company based in Ohio. Their quality is superb and they’re so flexible to work with. If you need a size other than what’s in their catalog they’ll custom make it for you. Most furniture makers won’t.”
Mark had a floor model for me to examine and I was impressed with what I saw. I ordered a 72-inch executive desk and hutch, a bookcase, and a lateral file cabinet from the Bordeaux Collection. Having been impressed with Stickley’s Park Slope Collection, I also ordered a Park Slope chair to complement my office furniture. In a few weeks, everything was delivered and looked beautiful.
I returned a few weeks later to order a matching round end table to complement the chair. Mark handed me off to a new interior decorator he had recently hired.
“Samantha, please assist Mr. Allman with an order,” Mark instructed as he retreated to his office.
Samantha turned to me. “Hello, Mr. Allman. I’m Samantha and I’ll be happy to help you.”
I extended my hand. “Hello, Samantha. Call me Ray.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ray. I understand you’ve shopped with us before.”
“Yes. I have two rooms of furniture from your fine store. I’ve gotten good advice and love everything I’ve bought here.”
“Hopefully we can keep you happy.”
Conversation with Samantha came easily and naturally. Samantha had a personal demeanor that made you feel you were her personal friend. She made you feel special. I felt an instant fondness for her; she was easy to like. She opened the online catalog on her computer screen. I kept my social distance.
“Can you see from over there?”
“I want to allow you your space.”
“Come closer. I’m tired of this virus and these masks are so annoying. I want to get a clear mask so people can see what I look like. We can’t see what our clients look like either.”
I lowered my mask. “This is me.”
Samantha lowered hers. “And this is me.”
Samantha was a pretty young lady. I normally don’t flirt with young women but I felt comfortable with her.
“Yes, you should get a clear mask. That mask is hiding your pretty face.”
“Thank you.” She wasn’t offended; she genuinely appreciated the compliment.
We went on talking. Samantha disclosed that she was from a neighboring state, had moved here in the past few months, bringing her Master of Fine Arts in Interior Design degree to pursue her career. After a lengthy chat, we got down to the business of ordering my end table.
“Orders have been delayed,” she informed me. “Supply chain issues and factory shutdowns have made it impossible to provide an accurate time estimate for delivery. It will probably be a while.”
“I’m in no rush.” We chatted a while longer, then I took her business card and left.
Three months later I got an automated email informing me that my table had arrived. I arranged to come in to pick it up. I entered the showroom thinking that Samantha had probably forgotten me.
“Ray! Good to see you again. I thought your table would never come in.”
I know that salespeople act friendly toward the customer to foster goodwill, but she seemed genuinely pleased to see me. And I was genuinely shocked that she remembered me.
“Do you remember me?” she asked.
“Of course I do, Samantha. How could I ever forget you?” There I go flirting with her again.
Samantha was as pretty as ever. She was dressed for business in a loose fitting dress with a high neckline. What ruined the outfit were the clunky construction boots she was wearing. Why do pretty girls in this new generation wear such ugly footwear? And while I’m on the subject, what’s with the ripped-up jeans that I see everywhere? I have better rags in my garage.
Mark emerged from his office and helped me tie a moving blanket around my new end table to protect it in the back of my car during the trip home. The three of us went out to my car to place it in the rear. Mark shook my hand and returned to his showroom. Samantha lingered.
“That’s a beautiful table,” she remarked.
“It is. Thank you for your assistance in selecting it.”
“It’s going to look great with your desk and chair.”
I was on the horns of a dilemma. I thought: ‘Samantha is too young for me. But she’s so pretty. Should I? I shouldn’t; I should be ashamed of myself. But her job here is done; she made her sale. She wouldn’t be standing here if she wasn’t interested. She’ll probably shoot me down, but I’m going to invite her anyway. She’s so pretty.’
“Would you like to see how it all looks together in my house, Samantha?”
“That would be nice.” She smiled; she was happy to be invited.
We arranged a time and a meeting place for the next day. We met and Samantha followed me home.
I led her in the front door. Samantha was dressed casually. Snug jeans conformed to her curvy figure. A plain blouse covered a push-up bra. Her makeup was soft and her jewelry was simple: stud earrings and a matching necklace and bracelet. Her other wrist sported a gold tone Guess watch. She had traded the construction boots for a pair of stilettos. Thankfully.
She eyed the painting of the Brooklyn Bridge in the foyer. “What a beautiful canvas. I love the way you have it lighted. That’s museum quality.”
“Thank you, Samantha. I bought it at an art gallery. The light I bought online.”
“It makes for a classy entrance.”
I gave Samantha a quick tour, showing her the dining room, the bedrooms, and the living room.
“You didn’t buy the living room set from us,” she noticed.
“No, it’s from one of your competitors.”
Samantha rubbed the back of the couch, squeezing the upholstery and examining the fabric. “Nice, but not as good as ours,” she opined.
I led her to the office. “Here is the complete package. Desk, file cabinet, chair, table, everything.”
Samantha walked around, scrutinizing the collection purchased from the store at which she worked. “Quality,” she mumbled, taking it all in.
Satisfied, she sat in the Park Slope chair and crossed her long legs.
“How do I look in this fancy chair, Ray?”
“Pretty as a picture, Samantha. You could model for the company.”
Samantha stood. “I love your house, Ray. You did a great job decorating it.”
“Thank you, Samantha.”
I’m not a guy that’s much affected by perfume, but I detected a faint, arresting scent of it on Samantha, which only added to her allure.
‘Should I? Samantha is too sweet a girl for me to prevail upon. She’s young, innocent, and trusting. I don’t want her to think I lured her here to take advantage of her. I would hate myself if I offended her. But she’s so pretty. And she’s here in my house and we’re alone.’
“Samantha, can I kiss you?”
“I’d like that, Ray.”
I approached carefully lest I frighten her. Taking Samantha in my arms and holding her, I gave her a gentle hug. We put our faces together and our lips met. We broke, smiled, and kissed again.
It was a privilege to hold Samantha. We stood kissing a while longer and Samantha asked, “Where can we get more comfortable?”
I knew just the place; I led Samantha to my bedroom. We kissed again. I gently turned her around and reaching around her, I unbuttoned her blouse. Samantha pushed her butt into my groin as I unclipped and removed her bra.
I had been mistaken; this wasn’t a push-up bra. Samantha was naturally pert; her breasts stood out proud. Out of respect, I refrained from touching them.
Samantha kicked off her stilettos and I unbuttoned her jeans. When I pulled them down her panties came with them. Samantha was naked.
“My turn,” Samantha enthused. She worked quickly and had me in my birthday suit in no time.
“Well, well! Look what I found,” she exclaimed with feigned surprise when I sprung out like a coiled spring.
We sat on the bed. “Don’t you like my boobs, Ray?” Samantha asked. She was obviously proud of them.
“They’re beautiful, Samantha. May I?”
“Please do.” Her look said, ‘What are you waiting for, dopey?’
I cupped her left breast in my hand and lifted while gently gliding the fingernails of my other hand over her supple skin. I gave her right breast the same treatment. Her perky nipples were hard and I held them between my thumb and forefinger before gently scratching them as well.
“That’s nice. I like your touch, Ray.”
I came to my senses and realized that Samantha desired I spend more time on her breasts before proceeding further.
“Lay back, Samantha.” She did and I gently caressed her breasts using my fingers and fingernails. I squeezed and held them, admiring their fullness.
“Hold your boobs together, Samantha.” She complied quickly, happy to show them off. I kissed her breasts tenderly, then applied my tongue to one nipple, then the other. Then I would drag my tongue up her cleavage and repeat the whole process.
“You’re blessed with beautiful breasts, Samantha.”
“Thank you,” she replied, all smiles.
I spent at least ten minutes at her breasts, but unable to resist the siren song of her alluring vagina any longer, I directed my attention there.
Samantha’s waiting vagina glistened with dew and I administered the treatment this beautiful young lady deserved. I gently blew on her wetness, then spent forever kissing her thighs and her mound. I progressed to kissing her labia majora, then licking them, savoring her mild taste. I finally toyed with her folds and no matter how I manipulated them, her supple labia would always return to their original state. I began kissing her with the gentlest of pecks. Then after a hundred kisses, I finally dragged my tongue up her canal. Samantha cooed.
Being an unfailing practitioner of ‘ladies first’, I continued this loving treatment. I took her whole vagina in my mouth. I turned my head perpendicular, took Samantha’s soft lips between my own, and glided over them. I then took her adorable clitoris out to play, kissing, licking, rubbing, and teasing. Samantha’s cute moans signaled her arrival; she gripped the sheets and arched her back while in her throes. I gave her no quarter and kept her on the crest of the wave for as long as she could bear it. I finally relented and let her down.
I mounted Samantha and slid the tip of my bursting erection up and down her slot. I then paused at her opening and very gently, very slowly, I penetrated her.
Samantha’s vagina welcomed me with copious lubrication and a tight fit. Once all in I paused.
“How’s that, Samantha?”
“It’s perfect, Ray,” she exhaled. We stayed missionary for some minutes, delighting in our coital union.
“Come up on your hands and knees, Sweetheart,” I directed. Samantha did and I again rode up and down between her lips. By now Samantha had had enough of my teasing; she lowered her butt until I was at her vaginal opening and she backed up, enveloping me fully.
“I got you,” she boasted.
“You certainly did.” Holding Samantha by her curvy hips I rocked her back and forth. After some time she reached back and caressed my testicles. Her touch was magic; I finished instantaneously.
We fell onto our sides and I held Samantha in my arms. I took two tissues off the night stand and held one on my withering erection and one on Samantha’s vagina.
“We’ll prevent a wet spot,” I explained.
“Good idea.”
“Stay with me tonight, Baby,” I invited.
“I can’t, Ray. I don’t have a change of clothes or my overnight stuff. I’ll come back tomorrow better prepared.”
Respecting Samantha’s desire for decorum, I agreed. “It’s a deal.”
~~~~~~
Samantha returned the next night carrying an overnight bag. The young girl who I thought was a shy ingenue, and whom I had concerned myself with hurting, turned out to be a nymphomaniac.
We both had the need to get right to it and undressed each other hastily. Dragging me to my dining room table, she moved some chairs aside and sat on the table.
“We have this same table as a floor model in the showroom,” she explained. “I eyed it all day today imagining us making love on it.”
I climbed on the table with her and mounted her. “Like this?” I asked as I entered her.
“Exactly like this.”
We made love on the dining room table until Samantha ordered me up. She rose and climbed onto my kitchen island. We made love there, too.
“I want to screw you on your desk now,” she informed me. We climbed down and stood.
Samantha grabbed my erection and dragged me to my desk. She put me on my back and mounted me. Crouching on me with her feet flat on my desk, Samantha rode my full length. We disengaged as she turned to reverse cowgirl position. She reinserted me and leaned back on my pecs. She lifted her feet off the desk and placed them on my thighs. I now bore her full weight. It felt good.
Dismounting, she ordered, “Now the spare bedroom. Me on top again.” She tugged me by my erection to the bed and screwed me like a kitten there, too.
Two could play at this game. “Now the sofa,” I commanded. I pinched her left nipple and led her to the sofa.
I put Samantha on her hands and knees and entered her from behind. Holding her head down so her cheek was on the cushion, I entered her as deeply as I could. I held her cute ass and we made love.
“You still think my sofa is inferior, Samantha?”
“Your sofa is just fine, Ray,” she replied, panting and gripping the cushion.
“I knew I could convince you to like it.”
I reached under and tickled her clitoris and brought her to a roaring orgasm. She applied her magic touch to my scrotum and brought me to my own grand finish. I pulled out and held a tissue to her dripping vagina. She stood and we kissed.
“We did it in every room. Now your house is a home,” she informed me.
“You forgot the laundry room.”
“Tomorrow.”
We sat on the sofa on some towels. “You know how to treat a girl, Ray,” Samantha praised.
“That’s nice to hear, Samantha Thank you.”
“You were so tender with me yesterday. You treated me like a lady. I’ve never been treated like a lady before; it was always forced on me, done in a hurry. You showed me what making love is. I want to make more love with you. And I want you teach me how to satisfy you.”
“Your magic touch does satisfy me, Samantha.” That brought a devilish smile.
“I’ll plan some instructional sessions that we can start immediately,” I promised.
“I can’t wait.”
We cleaned up and went to bed. Samantha returned the next night and we sampled the spin cycle.
~~~~~~
We’ve lived as man and wife ever since. Samantha remains a nymphomaniac and a bit of an exhibitionist as well. At home she’s almost always naked, even when the curtains are wide open. I can hardly get her to wear any clothes around the house, although I don’t try too hard.
Soon after our initial lovemaking sessions, we commenced our instructional scenarios. But that’s a story for another time.
~~~~~~
This story is a work of fiction. Any likeness to any person(s) is coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by Plinytheyounger
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this story may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system without written permission from the author.
