Dianne's Visitor

Dianne hadn't wanted to get up yet, having rudely punched the button of her alarm clock. Not once, but twice, she had turned back over and tugged the comforter up close around her chin. It was cold outside; she could sense that by the frosty look of the windowpane, but she snuggled herself in the warmth of her own heat beneath the soft, downy spread. "uhhh," She groaned softly. There were things she needed to get done but she didn't want to rise. Still, Dianne forced herself begrudgingly to toss the covers aside and sit up in the bed. Cool air suddenly caressed her skin; goose bumps rose and her soft nipples sparked to attention. Running her palms over the soft curve, she supported the delicate heft of her breasts and slid her thumbs over the hardening caps. She had wanted some the night before.

There was no other way to say it. She'd wanted to get laid. Damn, she'd wanted to get nailed. She sighed; wishing that caress of her breasts had been someone else's hands.

Dianne had peeled herself from the cozy embrace of the bed and the first thing on her mind was what she didn't get the night before. She thought about that moment she had been just about to move close and arouse him with subtle ministrations of her tongue. That instant she was about to attack the soft skin of his cock he had rolled away from her.

She rose and tugged at the fabric of her panties. The cotton bikini's had twisted and tucked annoyingly into the crack of her ass. "That wouldn't have happened," she thought, "had there had been a damn reason to take them off last night. He rolls over and snores and I wake up with my panties in a knot....fucker." Now she was upset with herself. Of all things to be thinking about when she wakes up, and it had to be this. She wanted to wake up with a good thought.

Dianne tugged again at the fabric, wiggled her hips to set her panties in place and picked up her terry robe. The rough fabric rubbed at her nipples as she threw it over her shoulders. Warm sensations circled the swell of her breasts as she glanced at herself in the mirror. She liked her breasts. She was happy with them. "What does he want?" she asked herself. "Jugs...does he want honkin big boobs or what?" She turned slightly to the side and stroked the skin. They were round where they should be round, sloped where they should slope...and "My god," she thought. "My nipples ache." Then she looked at herself square on. "Bed head," she thought next. Reaching up, her breasts wiggled firmly as she ran her fingers though her tussled hair.

Dianne left the robe to dangle openly as she slid into slippers and shuffled to the kitchen. She tortured herself by letting the fabric continue to arouse the tips of her attentive nipples.

He'd made tea before he left, long before the clock had stolen her slumber. She had another distracting thought - feeling strange to be angry and aroused at the same time. He'd taken most of the tea in his thermos. Maybe a half a cup remained for her shake her sleep. She smacked the button of her computer to power it up while she turned to pour the last drops. Dianne sat down and went straight to her email. As she read, an onlooker would see her expressions.

She'd smile, she'd frown, and she'd crinkle her eyebrows. She laughed a little and a serious scowl even winkled her face. Between sips of tea she'd tap out responses, and then an odd feeling crept over her. It was that sensation on the surface of her skin. That tingle of her scalp said someone was watching. Her eyes shifted from side to side. She looked across the kitchen as she sat up straight. The goose bumps had returned.

Dianne pulled at the sides of her robe, drawing it snuggly closed. Turning her head she saw nothing and she rose from her chair slowly. The feeling remained. She turned to look out the window and saw nobody. She was scanning the room when she heard a noise. It didn't register at first but she heard it again. Had it been a knock? She wondered if someone had knocked at the door. Dianne pulled the robe tighter and cinched the belt at her waist. She heard the sound again and was sure someone was knocking.

Dianne surveyed the living room as she inched toward the front door. She saw no-one as she eased the chain into place and opened the door a crack. There was no-one. She closed it again and removed the chain to open the door wider.

Her stoop was empty and she closed the door to it, this time setting the bolt as she turned to look around the room again before glancing out the front window.

There were more than a dozen people walking the street, some talking, others intent on whatever their purpose. As she turned to walk away an image struck her. There was one. One man had appeared out of place and she glanced back over her shoulder. He was there and she stepped to the window again. Across the street and a door away he stood with his back pressed against a light pole. He wore slim blue jeans, tucked into soft leather boots laced almost to his knee. One leg was cocked, the heel of his foot perched on a lip of the lamp base. He wore a khaki shirt tucked squarely at his waist, one hand buried in a pocket of his pants, the other holding a cup, steaming in the cool morning air. And, he wore a hat. It wasn't a western hat but much closer to that than anything one might see around here.

Dianne watched him intently as he touched the steaming cup to his lips. He turned his head slightly toward her and she was sure she saw a nod. "Did he nod? Did he just tip his hat to me?" She was sure he had glanced directly to her window and she inched back behind the drapes. She was chewing at her lower lip when she peeked carefully around the curtain just in time to see him stand away from the lamp post and survey the street.

She felt an unnerving shiver and tore herself from the window. She paced each room of the house, checking each door until she was satisfied before returning to the kitchen to see an unsent reply sitting in the queue. She clicked send as she looked at the clock. She needed to go out and that meant she had to get ready. Dianne deliberately walked through the living room on her way upstairs. The man was gone. She looked up and down the street and saw no sign of him. "You're being silly," she told herself but got little comfort from the thought. She needed to shower and dress but she had to be satisfied the house was empty and locked. Dianne took one more pass through the rooms before getting ready.

Satisfied, she stood before the shower testing the warmth of the water before stepping away to remove her robe. As she started to slide her panties over her hips, she gasped loudly and chill ran the length of her spine. Following the waistband down the curve of her pert ass, she felt palms. She knew what hands on her ass felt like for crying out loud, and she had been groped. Dianne froze; her heart racing as she struggled to catch her breath. Fingers slid slowly from deep between her legs, up the cleft of her cheeks and through the delta where it flowed to the small of her back. The fingers ran upward, tracing the hollow line at her spine followed by a slow stroke along her shoulders. As she stood there, her panties hung on her thighs, she could feel fingers at her waist while thumbs kneaded the base of her back. Dianne thought of bolting, but there was no place to run.

Whoever this was, stood between her and the door. She was gasping for air, slowly turning her head toward the sink hoping to glimpse something she could use for a weapon. She was about to cry out when she caught her image in the mirror. The sensations stopped the instant she saw there was no-one behind her. No person stood behind her caressing her ass. It didn't happen. She had imagined the whole thing, yet she slinked to the floor; holding her head in her hands trying to regain her composure. It had felt so real.

She had felt it, damn it. Hands had followed the smooth curve of her ass and fingers had stroked up to her waist. She had felt it. "No," she told herself. She had made it all up; her imagination had gotten away from her. Still, as she pushed her panties further and stepped out of them, she steeled herself for another intrusion.

Dianne moved slowly as she started to step under the shower, looking back over her shoulder to survey the room. She stopped, closed and locked the door before slipping under the warm spray.

She caressed her own skin slowly trying to conjure the sensation of hands again. It confused her. As frightening as it had been, she wanted to feel that touch behind her but she couldn't summon the sensations. It was only as she turned her back to the flow of water that she felt the kiss. A tongue had traced the thin line of her lips, nipped lightly at one and then disappeared. She felt no malice. The kiss felt safe and she accepted its warmth. "Why shouldn't I have liked it?" she thought. "It was my imagination anyway. That's all it was. I'm making this all up."

She was being foolish, she knew that. Of course she was safe; she was imagining everything. This wasn't happening. She opened her eyes to prove it. Dianne stood alone in the shower; but, that safe feeling, she wanted that. She wanted to feel the hands at her back and now she wanted the kiss. It struck her maybe, that it wasn't a safe feeling at all, but a welcome feeling. Soft touches and a kiss too brief had made her feel desirable and damn-it, she deserved a good kiss. That she wanted what wasn't given wasn't her fault. She was worthy and she wanted to feel that touch again.

It wasn't the touch she felt next so much as a sudden consciousness of the fullness of her modest breasts as hands cupped their shape and lifted the delicate heft. Dianne inhaled sharply, still seeing nobody there. She closed her eyes tightly to avoid having to accept the reality that she was alone. It could not possibly feel this good and nobody be there. Her arms tensed and Dianne whimpered at the sudden sharpness as fingers gently squeezed her nipples and she felt the sharp twist. The fingers floated in water cascading down her skin to stroke her sides and circle her soft tummy. They traced the lines at the top of her legs, following the V deep to her thighs. Dianne gasped as the fingers stroked her swelling lips then toyed in her small patch of hair. She felt one brush lightly across the top of her slit and just as she anticipated a caress of her throbbing clitoris, the fingers were gone. She waited. She waited...wishing...wanting that touch.

It seemed over and she realized she felt no danger. These strange sensations from nowhere both excited and calmed her. She wanted the feelings back. "I want this, damn it. I want this back!" she screamed, but it didn't come. She allowed herself to bask in the warm flow over her shoulders as she soaped and waited. Her fingers traced those places the others had gone, waiting and hoping for their return. Without the touch, Dianne turned off the water and stepped from the shower. As she toweled dry, she thought she heard a whisper. It wasn't words, just a whisper like wind brushing her cheek.

Holding the towel at the top of her breasts to cover her she opened the door a crack. The hall was empty as she stepped and heard it again. She inched forward cautiously; half steps took her to the door to the bedroom. Her chest was pounding and whatever was in her house was beckoning her.

The room was pulling her closer as she peered around the doorframe. It was empty but the room reached out to take her. Dianne turned the corner and eased slowly in, still feeling the draw. The bed covers were still thrown back and without thought, she settled onto the still warm mattress and lay back against her pillow. It wasn't something she had consciously chosen to do. It happened as if she'd been directed or possibly that it had been her intention all along. After the night's frustrations and the arousing sensations she had just felt, maybe her body was beckoning her own touch. Maybe she'd been drawn to the bedroom to seek her own pleasures. She was gnawing on her lip again, anxious, nervous, and confused.

In silence, Dianne looked to the ceiling until she again felt another kiss. She felt fresh breath across her tongue and a woodsy scent of masculine musk filled the room. Whatever created these feelings, she had started to think of it as "him." She wanted to reach out and hold him but as she grasped, her arms simply fell to her chest. She clutched the towel that still covered her, knuckles whitening as she clutched it tight to protect herself. Then slowly, Dianne dragged the towel to the side and letting it drop to the floor. In a moment, she felt the fullness of her breasts again as palms covered the swells of her chest. She found herself keenly aware of their rise and fall as her breath quickened. Lips covered her nipples. They sucked and bit them lightly. A tongue rolled across the tender caps. She was panting, frightened and wanting, as hands stroked her damp skin. She felt the lips glide down her chest with light kisses until she felt the tongue again. Dianne felt the tip swirl her patch of hair. She felt tugs at her small curls that stung her skin. She felt kisses on her swollen lips as the tongue slid back to her excited clit. She felt her clit being sucked. She felt a light bite and the tongue swirled circles around the tender nub. It was as if hundreds of tiny butterflies flitted among her moist labia, their wings sodden with her nectar brushing the taught skin of her hardened nub. They would circle back to frolic again among her silky folds and she envisioned tiny feet spattering her excited pearl like soft pin pricks. It was sucked again; held between gentle lips and caressed. Dianne felt the demanding urge to squeeze. She needed to grip and her pelvic muscles tensed. She need something, she ached for a presence to clutch. Dianne shed any sense restraint and eased her legs apart as she felt a finger circle her wet opening. Over and over in circles it rubbed the soft flesh and she clenched again.

Spreading her legs further, Dianne gave herself over to whatever the source of her sensations. She surrendered. She submitted, already knowing she would accept whatever came next. Dianne drew her feet together, her knees bending outward and hovering close to the mattress, leaving her agape and exposed.

Dianne was unaware she was still biting her lower lip. She would not have known the appearance of the blank stare that glossed the blue intensity of her eyes. She was relaxed and controlled by the sensations that warmed her pelvis and made her nipples sting. She was aware though, of the curl of her toes as a finger eased through the slick path to her tunnel. As it probed deeply she felt it circle her tender walls and could sense they were swollen, plump and ready as she clamped down on the finger's meandering. She was aware of soft noises escaping her throat but she couldn't hear them. Her eyes were blank and saw nothing -- her mind focused on the feelings of her pelvis and other senses seemed to shut down.

The finger eased outward and came to rest among the sensitive ridges of her anterior wall. A pad pressed delicately against the soft pad that instantly seemed wired to the back of her clit.

The tongue never stopped. It caressed, teased, and wrapped her bud. Whatever was doing this to her had set up a harmonic vibration that heated her breasts, seared the nerves in the pits of her arms and cramped the soles of her feet. Dianne's thighs were on fire and she knew it wouldn't be long.

"Don't cum yet." She told herself. "Don't cum yet." Regardless that she craved the surge of climax, she wanted this intensity to last. She didn't want to feel that peak that might mark the coming ebb of the excitement her nerves were feeling. No sooner had she had that thought, than the feelings stopped. Dianne waited, certain she would feel it again but it didn't come. She screamed in frustration.

After a pause, Dianne sat up in bed. It only lasted a moment. A hand planted firmly between her breasts and pushed her back down. She didn't resist the obvious presence between her legs. She also sensed the presence of weight hovering above her. It wasn't the weight of a body holding her down, but rather that implication she could feel of a lover resting above her body on his elbows. A chest brushed her still stinging nipples. She felt the tip of a cock glide down her abdomen, through her hair and then follow the line of her slit. She felt her legs pushed abruptly outward again and then that familiar subtle burning at her opening told her it was pressed to enter. She felt her body stretch. Her opening gave way to accept the bulk that was being pressed into her channel as the ridge of its head eased through her snug ring. Dianne squeezed to clutch the shaft; wanting to convince herself it was there. The bulk resisting her squeeze was all she needed. Her wet walls came to life and they clenched the presence in her tunnel sending waves of heat soaring though her pelvis. Her buttocks tightened with her grip but the bulk continued its smooth journey. Deeper and deeper it glided through her wet channel until she felt its spongy tip rub and tease her cervix before withdrawing.

Again, she felt it driven in through her opening and again it withdrew. Entering and leaving it stroked the length of her until it reached her limit. Then, held deep Dianne felt its shape slither and roll within her grasp like a lover rolling his hips. She squeezed again and gripped it until she couldn't hold the grasp any longer. Without thought, she flung her arms down to grab his ass. She craved to pull him deeper but she grabbed nothing. She felt the pain as her fingernails instead dug into her soft inner thighs but she didn't care. The strokes grew more intense; they pushed harder and faster, each one pushing the breath from her lungs and she would inhale deeply each time it pulled back. "Yes, Yes, Yes," she growled with each push of the bulk.

Without warning, Dianne whimpered as she felt her hair being pulled. At the same time, the bulk slammed its way through her channel and the pace increased. She lifted her hips abruptly to meet the thrust and she matched the rhythm of each returning push. Dianne heard herself spouting words she seldom used, one with each thrust of the cock. "Fuck.......me, Fuck......me," she voiced with a guttural whisper. Whatever held her spread eagle on her bed did exactly that. Each thrust pounded her cervix; the dull pain muted by the exquisite sensation of the shaft caressing her sensitive, wet walls. She felt his pubic bone mashing her mons and that pain was met with the sensation of skin tugging the flesh of her clit. Thousands of nerves scrambled at a feverish pace to meet the rough caress, shooting sparks that sent fever through her breasts and nipples.

Her hair was released. Hands slid under her and held her shoulders like a lover pulling himself to her depth. She was already quivering when her engorged walls felt the lurch of the bulk against her grasp. She knew that feeling and bit her lip again; gratified that her body had brought this pleasure as she anticipated the next sensation. She was excited that her surrender was getting him off and she whispered again; sounding almost like a pant as she writhed to drive him on. "Give it to me," was all she said and she felt the lurch again, pushing outward against her engorged walls. Dianne sensed her own climax rising. She felt herself flooded with his fluids and her inner thighs exploded. Waves of pleasant shock soared up her thighs as she heard a low groan and more bursts splashed her walls. Dianne trembled. Her whole body quaked; her legs trembled and her feet rattled against the mattress. Dianne's back arched upward as her shoulders trembled against the pillow and her whole body ignited in orgasm.

She was panting as she felt the bulk slowly withdraw. The pants were shallow and offered little respite for her need for air. At the same time, though she saw nothing, it seemed her lover was milking off the last of his fluids, spilling onto her soft skin and in the hair of her mons.