“Hold that,” she said as her hands went under her skirt and pulled pink cloth down her legs. The top allowed a full view of her firm breasts as she bent, the tan on her previously exposed skin extended to the dark nipples. She pulled the panties to her knees then stood and shimmied as they dropped to her feet. She stepped out of them, bent slowly to offer an even better view of her breasts and stood with her pink handful. She reached out and he handed the bra to her.
“I’ll get rid of these,” she said, “you can match me, put these shorts back on. I’ll fondle the book for a bit.”
He handed it to her and turned to watch her as he let out a hum when she again flipped the back of her skirt to reveal flesh. Like her tits, the tanned skin for the flashed look seemed to match the rest. He quickly unhooked his belt and the button of his denim shorts, pulled the zipper down and pushed the shorts and his boxer-briefs down and forced them past his own sneakers. He glanced up to see her bent over the table skipping through the book she’d taken. He pushed his briefs aside and pulled his shorts on by feel. The tan indeed extended with only slight lightening across her ass cheeks from her thighs. He grunted subconsciously when he constrained the unavoidable erection into its denim prison.
He saw her back and head shiver as she straightened and turned. He bent and grabbed his briefs.
“Toss ’em here,” she said firmly. He balled them and obeyed her order. She caught them.
“Not as colorful as mine,” she said with a lighter tone. She spread them out on his pack and he saw that she’d put her panties on her pack, with the ‘BUTT’ hanging over the edge, the bra just past them, the cups pointing toward the ceiling. She twisted, picked up the book and did a runway walk to return to their spot between the shelves, her eyes locked on the bulge in his crotch. The loose crop top exposed the tops and bottoms of smooth, rounded flesh but hid nipples.
She stopped in front of him half an arm length away, the book in her right hand. His right hand touched the back of her left hand and she flexed fingers and pressed the arm into his fingers as they traced up her forearm.
“Back up,” her husky tone had returned and she gestured with his chin, he did so and placed his back against the shelf from which Trini had pulled the book and she sidled to face him. His hand had come level with her breasts and as she locked his eyes she slowly spun to her left, giving his fingers no choice but to trace and quickly massage her left nipple then the right, both added slight bulges to the cloth. Once she’d turned completely she moved until the top swell of her ass made the merest contact with his hidden erection.
“You can read over my shoulder?” She still held it in her right hand. Her left hand landed on his left hip and slid down a few inches.
“Not a problem.”
“Hold it in your left hand, I’ll change to the pages I want you to read with my right hand,” her left hand was flat against his thigh, which flexed with the pressure, “oh, nice… rest…”
She let out a purr as his right hand, given freedom of movement, landed on her firm stomach before it used the sheen of sweat to slide under her crop top. Her right breast slightly overflowed his palm. He shuffled slightly and reached past her and she flipped the book open and he balanced it on his upright palm as she opened it and set a page.
“If only this was the original copy,” she said with a low purr and pushed her tit into his grip as thumb and finger worked at the expanding nipple and her fingers played a silent melody against his thigh, “take me to London to see it someday?”
“Love to, when we’re rich,” he whispered. She purred and wiggled her ass.
“Read,” she whispered as she backed into him. He rested his chin over her shoulder.
“The maner and fourme how to kepe a perfecte reconyng, after the order of the moste worthie and notable accompte, of debitour and creditour, set foorthe in certain tables, with a declaration thereunto belongyng, verie easie to be learned, and also profitable, not onely unto suche, that trade in the facte of marchaundise, but also unto any other estate, that will learne the same.
“Written by James Peele
“Imprinted at London by Richard Grafton, printer to the Kinges majesties, in the year of our Lord, Fifteen Fifty Three. Cum privilegio ad imprementum folion.”
She pressed her ass snugly into his crotch and directed pressure against his hidden prick. He slid his hand from her right breast to the left and found a nipple already awake. She flipped pages and snuggled her head against his neck and shoulder, turned it and closed her eyes.
“Go,” she said as she squeezed his thigh.
“Wares delivered to a shop, by retaile,” he began and paused. She shivered against him.
“If your shoppe wherein you do retaile, be kept by your prentices, then as I thinke, it is not mete to make any of them debitour, for any ware thereunto delivered, not yet to a Journeyman, without he consent and agree, and be willing to make and enforce for your goodes to delivery. The manner howe to charge your shoppe, or your Journeyman with wares to to make the reciveour your Journeyman, open parenthesis, if he take upon him the charge, close, debitor to such wares as you delivered; otherwise, is you charge or make no person debitour, but the shoppe, then make retaile accept debitour to the wares so delivered, as in the 35 parcel.”
RB took a breath as Trini purred and her left hand forced its way to arrive on his hidden prick. It followed the length and fingertips pressed at the swollen glans through the thin denim. Her purr strengthened when his fingers gave her left nipple a last squeeze and moved down a stomach that added an additional tautness at the pressure.
“It is needful at such time as you deliver any parcel to be retailed, that you measure or tell the thing or things so delivered, whereby they whole custody the retayle is in, may, open paren, without excuse, for lacke of measure weight or tale, close paren, deliver a true account thereof: And rather at such delivery, to make and lay the loss of measure, weights or tale, in pure reckoning, upon the wares it failed to deliver.”
RB took a breath that caught and Trini’s eyes opened and her head turned as her hand went to the book and stopped when they heard soft footfalls and a second, mysterious sound. They were in the row they faced, next to theirs. RB’s right hand stopped in place, his thumb level with Trini’s exposed belly button and the palm resting along the waistband of her skirt. A soft, kind voice spoke, a woman’s timbre. It was at library volume, low but not a whisper.
“Oh, my, please don’t stop. Your delivery is excellent, young man.”
The mystery sound was a book cart, they saw it through the gaps above and below the books they faced. Pushing it was a woman, her white, short-sleeved blouse was loose, but not so loose that her impressive bust was obscured, and so far as could be seen, a gray skirt. Her hair was brown with plentiful gray and held in a bun at the back of her head.
“Hi,” said Trini, her voice still husky, “we’re studying the birth of accounting.”
“I’m Anne,” the woman said as she squatted slightly to look through an open space, “and I’ve been so lonely today. Summer term is just so…”
“Empty,” RB said and Anne chuckled and nodded.
“Yes. Empty. But you two have just made my day. Please, do you have more to read? May I listen a bit?”
“I’m Trini and he’s RB, we’re taking Economics 201,” her voice deepened as she spoke, “and I’ve always wanted to study like this, but didn’t know it’d be so nice…”
“Yes, his voice is excellent,” Anne said.
“My parents were traveling theatre junkies,” RB said, his voice pitched to an exaggerated drawl, which he morphed to a Yankee accent, “they did amateur plays and took me and I just somehow picked up the tones.”
“Okay, then, mister artiste,” Trini said and hidden from Anne squeezed the cock that’d flagged slightly, it twitched at the attention and she flipped the page, “entertain us.”
“And the rest,” Anne said, her previous near-soprano matched Trini’s husky tone, “I think that’s important to set the scene. Don’t be shy. The floor’s all ours…”
RB wondered, but with a flash of his eyes it was obvious that the bright pink cloth with ‘BUTT’ on it was directly in Anne’s view. He smiled as he focused again on the book.
“The money received of the retaile,” he paused.
“You shall when you take moneys out of your store in the shoppe, for such wares as were sold by retaile, make the money so received, debitour to the retaile account, or else to the partie, who hath taken in charge the same, with further expense words as is in the thirty six parcel, and to know how your weight, tale, measure and gains cometh out, peruse book whereunto is written the tale.”
As he read, RB slid his right hand down the front of Trini’s skirt and pressed it into her crotch as she sidled her feet apart. A slow exhaled hum came from the other row, but Trini’s eyes were again closed and RB’s attention on the book. He pulled the skirt up and put his middle finger just into her slit and its companions along each lip. He felt warmth and dampness as his middle finger entered her to the depth of the first knuckle and moved upwards. Her hand stoked the length of his hidden cock.
“The gayne and sales therein perceived, you must confer that with your remainder or wares as it stands; and see if the sum or sumes thereof do agree with the money taken forth, as it ought to be. If your money be more, or wares lacking, put the same wares into the book of sale, as follow: and then will your money and the book of sale well agree, within very little. If your money lack of the sales, then you must have a overplus in wares, or else your retayle rekenying is not truly kept.”
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