Naed

A little while ago my daughter, Nancy, invited a friend to stay at our place for a few days. It seems that Chantelle's parents had gone away for the week and Chantelle was just a little nervous about staying home alone.

Chantelle was quite a pretty young woman. Around nineteen, I think. I knew she was several months older than Nancy, who was nearly nineteen. As far as I could tell she was just your average young woman. Nicely stacked. (Very nicely stacked in my opinion.) Average intelligence. She had a job and she didn't smoke, dope, or drink to excess. As far as I was concerned that was all you could really ask for.

Now when I say she was of average intelligence, she was, but she was also a trifle scatter-brained. You know the type of person. They could do something extremely well, if it occurred to them that they should be doing it. She'd get in the car and then wonder where her keys were. Generally in the house, because she forgot to get them.

Where my work is concerned I can, and sometimes do, work from home. On Friday I didn't have anything of importance scheduled so decided to stay home and do the bits and pieces I needed to get done via the 'net. I waved Nancy off to work smiling as I sat back to enjoy another cup of coffee. Chantelle, I was given to understand, was on an evening shift and hadn't yet arisen.

I retired to my home office and got to work, cleaning up most of what I had to do in short order. About ten I decided that a break was in order and wandered into the kitchen to make some more coffee. As I wandered down the hallway I could hear the shower running and assumed that Chantelle had finally woken up and was getting ready for the day.

I made the coffee, making extra in case Chantelle wanted some, and sat at the table drinking it. While I was drinking it Chantelle wandered in, busy tying her hair up in a towel. It promptly occurred to me that I'd left out a couple of items in my description.

Chantelle was a natural blonde who preferred a small landing strip, if you know what I mean. Also, she didn't need a bra to support her lovely breasts.

Apart from the towel that she was winding around her hair Chantelle was stark naked. Wonderfully naked, I thought. Also very unselfconsciously naked. It didn't even seem to occur to her that she was naked. She saw me, smiled and said hi and asked if there was extra coffee. When I assured her that there was she grabbed a mug and poured herself some.

At first I wondered if she was deliberately coming on to me, but her attitude didn't reflect it. She was as natural as though she was fully dressed. Then the idiocy of the situation hit me. She'd forgotten that she was naked. She'd wandered out of the bathroom to the kitchen to grab some coffee. Seeing me she'd naturally said hullo, completely forgetting her lack of attire.

I sat back, enjoying the view and my coffee, wondering when it would dawn on her that she hadn't got dressed. Chantelle put her mug down on the table and pulled out a chair and sat. The feel of her bare bottom on the cold chair got through to her. She glanced down at herself and then at me, a horrified look on her face. Her bright red face.

"Ah, you've noticed, have you," I said casually. "You might as well relax and enjoy your coffee. I've already seen everything."

Chantelle was just looking totally mortified. She opened her mouth but it was plain that she didn't know what to say. She had an arm across her breasts in self-defence, but if she got up to run away she'd be flashing me all over again.

"Relax, woman," I said soothingly. "You have nothing that other women don't have, and what you do have is very nicely arranged. Just drink your coffee."

"Ah, I didn't, um, I mean I, ah," she mumbled.

"I assume that what you're trying to say is that you completely forgot your lack of clothing. Don't worry. I didn't think for a moment that you were blatantly coming on to me. Well, to be honest, I did, but I quickly decided that no, you wouldn't do that. It just slipped your mind because you didn't think that I'd be here."

Just like it slipped her mind that she had a towel wrapped around her hair that could easily be wrapped around her body. I chose not to mention that little detail.

"Just drink your coffee. You look like you need it. I'll be out of here soon."

Chantelle did just that taking a hearty mouthful, and then wishing she hadn't because it was too hot. I had another lovely view of a nice pair of breasts bouncing up and down as she tried to fan her mouth. Then her arm snapped back down to cover her breasts, her face regaining its bright red colour.

She glared at me when she saw I was laughing at her.

"A gentleman would leave the room and give me a chance to go and get dressed," she said.

"Really? Now that would be silly of them," I observed. "I'd much rather sit here and watch the show."

She had some more coffee, drinking it a bit more carefully.

"Why didn't you let me know when I first walked in?" she demanded. "I could have turned and got out of here fast."

"A couple of reasons, actually. At first I thought you might be coming on to me, and I didn't mind that at all. Then I decided that although you probably weren't coming on to me, you were still a very attractive bundle and I was enjoying looking at you. I also decided that whether you were coming on to me or not didn't matter. I was going to bend you over the table before you left the kitchen anyway."

"What?" she exclaimed, looking scandalized. "You can't say things like that."

"Why on earth not? If I'm going to be doing it, why can't I say it?"

"For a start because you're not going to be doing it. I don't do things like that."

"You're a virgin?" I asked, sounding surprised. If she was, I was an eunuch.

"I didn't say that," she muttered, "and it's none of your business anyway."

"It most definitely is if I'm going to bend you over the table, but I'm assuming from your reply that you're not. In which case that means that you do do things like that."

"Maybe, but not with you."

"Yes, with me. Don't worry, I'll enjoy it."

She looked slightly taken aback at that.

"Aren't you supposed to be assuring me that I'll enjoy it?" she asked.

"But I can't guarantee that," I pointed out, "and you wouldn't want me to lie and then disappoint you. No, I'll just give it my best shot and we'll see how things go."

"We won't, you know?" she muttered. "What are you going to do? Force me?"

"Don't be silly," I chided her. "I'm going to reply on your memory."

She was looking confused again.

"What had my memory to do with it?" she demanded.

"Well you know you have a terrible one. You're always forgetting things. I figure that once you're safely bent over the table you'll forget that it's me behind you and think it's your boyfriend, or if you remember it's me, you'll forget to tell me to stop."

"You're mad. My memory isn't that bad."

"Not bad, so much as you tend to overlook the obvious. I'll show you what I mean."

I got up and moved around the table to stand next to her. Taking her elbow I tugged and she rose reluctantly to her feet, turning away from me to hide her figure. That was fine by me, it meant she was facing the table. A little pressure on the small of her back had her leaning against the table with her hands on it to brace herself.

"You see," I murmured, sliding my hand down her back and over her bottom. "You forgot you weren't going to bend over the table, but here you are."

My hand slid further down, following the natural curve of her bottom and continuing on to some of her other interesting curves. Now my hand was rubbing rhythmically against her mound.

"I had to face the table," she muttered. "It was that or show everything I've got."

"But I've already seen what you've got and now I'm going to feel it," I murmured. "You could have used the towel in your hair to wrap around yourself."

Chantelle started and said a rude word as she finally remembered she had that towel. I ignored it, continuing my gentle massage. She was squirming slightly, but not resisting. There's something about being naked that weakens a woman's resistance.

I brought my hand back up over her bottom, both hands reaching around to capture her breasts. I stroked these gently, rubbing her nipples, feeling them pucker and stand firm. My hands dropped again, running down her sides, over her bottom and meeting at her mound, pressing it lightly from either side.

I sank down onto a knee behind her. A little outwards pressure eased her lips apart and my tongue darted inside her, running along her inner lips. She gave a little shriek and seemed to just freeze in place.

"Y-you can't do that," she said in a half groan.

It was unfortunate that she said that because I'd just eased her legs further apart. No sooner had she said that than my tongue speared towards the junction where her inner lips came together. I brushed against her clitoris and she screamed.

"Oh, my god, don't do that," she wailed.

"What, this?" I asked, repeating the action with a lighter touch.

"Yes, that," she gasped.

"Is that yes, do it again, or yes, don't do it," I asked.

"Don't do it. You know what I mean."

Now my hands were back in action, massaging her mound. Fingers dipped into her cleft, teasing internally, especially in the area around her clitoris while she writhed, wanting me to touch and praying I wouldn't.

She appeared to have forgotten that she wasn't going to permit this sort of activity. Time to take advantage before she remembered. I unzipped and let out my erection. It was eager to come, hot to trot, as they say. I slipped myself between her legs, my erection rearing up to press firmly along her slit. She knew precisely what was there.

"Oh my god," she muttered. "You're really going to do it, aren't you? Oh my god."

I eased her lips further apart, letting the head of my erection nestle between them. Leaving it there I reached around her to capture her breasts again. I started lightly massaging her breasts and teasing the nipples. At the same time I gradually increased the pressure of my cock against her.

I wasn't in the right place to actually enter her and I knew it. I pressed against her anyway. After a moment she gave a little hiss of frustration and adjusted the way she was standing. The next time I pressed I slid smoothly in.

I didn't stop. Now that I was moving into her I pressed forward firmly, driving fully home with that first firm thrust. Then I stopped, holding myself deep inside her.

What do you do the first time you're taking a woman? You don't know what she likes or doesn't like. Your best bet is to just take your own fun and hope it rubs off on her. That's what I did.

I started off slowly, sliding back and forth, waiting until Chantelle was ready to start moving with me. It didn't take long. I'd barely started when I felt her responding, pushing willingly back to accept me. That was good enough to me. I started to slowly increase the tempo of my movement.

My hands were on her breasts, soothing them, agitating them, stroking them, gently massaging. I rubbed and teased her nipples.

At the same time I was driving into her hard, taking my pleasure from her. She was breathing heavily, almost gasping, pressing hard against me as I drove in. I wasn't hurrying. My thrusts might have been nice and hard but I was taking my time delivering them. I was quite happy to keep going for as long as possible.

I pushed on. After a while Chantelle was starting to babble a little, asking me to speed things up. I chose not to. I was enjoying what I was doing and saw no reason to hurry it up. I kept on at the steady rate I was applying, enjoying the rasp of flesh against flesh.

Chantelle was starting to writhe, twisting under me, even though she was still responding, pushing hard against me as I thrust firmly into her. She was moaning and pleading, and finally I started driving in harder.

I was breathing hard myself, working hard as I was to take my pleasure. I pushed faster and faster, the sensations building higher and higher. Chantelle was making incoherent little noises now, squeaking and pleading. I was driving harder than ever, ready, past ready, to explode.

Then I was ejaculating hard, shuddering as I spent myself inside her. I was gratified to see that Chantelle was shuddering and crying out, shaking under the force of her own climax.

I disengaged and sat down, pulling her down onto my lap, holding her there and gently stoking her breasts while she recovered. She finally stirred and sat up straighter.

"I said I don't do things like that," she groaned.

"Yes, I heard you. I also pointed out that you do and you did. You won't need to worry about doing it like that again. You can just come to my bed each night."

"I am not coming to your bed tonight," she snapped.

I leaned forward and kissed her breast, rolling her nipple around with my tongue.

"We'll see," I said.