Chapter 67: Chapter 67
Seventy-six Windy Gate was a small triangular house that resembled a pointed hat, or that appeared as if perhaps there was a larger house under the ground that was beginning to sprout. A hedge of wild roses shielded the neat lawn from the road. At the end of the gravel driveway was a sign, painted purple and green on black, that read THIstLE StuDIo & TEARooM and beckoned
passersby to stop in for a visit.
Not today, though. A sandwich board on the oppo- site side of the driveway read CLOSED ON SUNDAY. No fresh scones or tea with sugar cubes for aging vaca- tioners. No delightful view of the garden with butter- flies for the little ones to chase. Tourists following road signage to the award-winning establishment could hammer on the front door all they liked, but Gracie
Hammond wouldn’t be greeting them with a smile.
Sunday morning was for church, and Sunday after- noon was for getting a week’s worth of sin in the few short hours she had off.
On that particular Sunday she was still in the violet pumps that matched her crochet handbag, but gone was the modest yellow dress she had gotten so many compliments on at the tea social after the service. That particular garment had been lost in the kitchen. Ruined, no doubt, when it had been ripped off of her.
Two hours of church mingling had been enough torture for Jonathan. The twenty-year-old lacked patience, but the young divorcée had tempered his urge to fuck fast and hard by pinning him beneath her, her knees on either side of his face. His hot tongue glided in and out, the slow kind of tongue-fuck she’d tutored him in from the first day they’d met, when he’d shown up to install a birdhouse in the garden.
She moaned, the sound coming out as more of a gurgle as Jonathan’s cousin worked his hips in tune with the steady suction of her lips around his cock.
Gracie was still surprised Jonathan had agreed to bring Keith to the Thistle on Sunday. After she’d quizzed him about the young man she saw him with in town he’d sulked about sharing, but in the end it was just another lesson for him. If he wanted a slice of her time on Sunday, he would have to learn to play nice.
After all, she could find another like him if she wanted. For now, she’d have them both, one at a time.
Her thighs quivered as his soft tongue worked a circle around the hard flesh. One hand splayed across her ass, the ring finger exploring. The other hand crooked under his chin, fingers gliding into her pussy to the knuckle.
With Keith’s calloused hand at the back of her neck, it was Gracie who was forced to rein in the need to fuck—and she wanted it bad. Moving her hand from his balls to the root of his cock, she grasped him and poured the pleasure Jonathan’s tongue was creating into sucking Keith off.
When she couldn’t stand the triple effect of Jonathan working from beneath her, when she became so wet from Jonathan’s adept tongue and fingers, she pulled away.
Gracie knelt on the carpet next to Jonathan and turned her full attention on Keith. Crooking a finger at him, she beckoned.
If Jonathan had any arguments about being second, he kept them to himself as his cousin slipped on a condom, instead creeping close to her and reaching between her legs as Keith entered her from behind.
Keith’s thrusts were steady, the perfect combination with a cock that was thick and curved. Her toes curled inside her pumps as each stroke brought the fat head over her G-spot.
She parted her lips as Jonathan claimed her mouth. Tongue twisted with tongue, as chaotic as his fingers rubbing her clitoris. She felt his movements as he jerked his cock one-handed.
The heat that flashed through her body was a powerful reminder of why she continued to reject any attempt to end her singlehood. She’d been married. Her husband had never made her come as hard as she was now accustomed to and expected.
Sweat spraying from his chest to her bare back, Keith came first, bruising the plumpness around her hips with digging fingertips, grunting, thrusting without breaking pace until his cock throbbed between her slick walls.
Jonathan didn’t waste a second. As soon as Keith rolled away, Jonathan wrapped his dick and mounted her. Longer and slimmer than his cousin, he worked his cock in and out, long and deep. Gracie went down as though in supplication, one hand digging into the carpet while the other took up the task of rubbing her clit.
The time for patience had passed. Her orgasm was upon her almost immediately. Her whole body was slip- pery and rubbery and her hand was coated with the juices that smeared her pubic hair and the inside of her thighs. She suddenly couldn’t breathe and didn’t care, not when every part of her body was being rocked by her climax.
She heard Jonathan moan, felt his cock twitch where it was buried deep and squeezed by the hot muscles surrounding it.
When lethargy ebbed into a glorious satisfaction she stood, stretched, and looked from one to the other.
“You know, Mondays aren’t nearly as busy as I’d like
them to be. I’m thinking a half day would suffice. If one or both of you could pop in at about one o’clock…”
As they exchanged looks she grinned.
“I’m sure I can find some use for both of you.”