The sound of the door opening wakes me from a sound sleep. There is a moment of confusion as I sit up in bed and blink away, the comforter sliding down to pool in my lap. I remember where I am, in the guest room of the Harris family. I'd come up from southern California to deliver a piece of customer furniture for my friend Jack, whose sister was the charming and beautiful Mrs. Harris.
Mrs. Harris, Donna, was what I would call comfortably middle aged. She was home alone when I arrived, her husband having gone to San Francisco for a deposition in the morning. With her help I maneuvered the piece, a rosewood secretaries desk, into the house and up to the second floor. It was a beautiful house, California Modern, overlooking Marin.
Once the piece was in place, I was ready to head into town and get a motel room for the night, but Donna insisted I join her for dinner on the patio. I was hungry and readily agreed. We settled in to eat a hearty salad and grilled chicken.
Donna was a beautiful woman. In her early forties, she was about five foot three, curvy and soft, bordering on a certain voluptuous temptation. She was wearing blue jeans and a buttoned shirt, with her brown hair pulled back in a small ponytail. I'd be lying if I said I didn't notice her curves or the way the button between her full breasts strained when she twisted and turned. I tried not to stare, but I looked, and she caught me looking a time or two over the course of dinner.
One glass of wine led to two and then three, and Donna decided to offer me the guest room for the night and open a second bottle of win. I accepted graciously. I wasn't a total stranger, so the offer was not out of the ordinary. We spent a fun evening listening to music, drinking wine, and talking. About ten o'clock we called it a night.
Donna took me up to the guest bedroom, showed me the clean towels and shower, and then turned down the big California King bed before wishing me a good night. A hot shower later I put on my pajama bottom's and slipped into bed. I always prefer sleeping in black cotton pajama bottom's. There I lay, deep in sleep, when the door opened.
Donna was standing in the doorway back-lit by the hall light. She was wearing a mid-length champagne nightgown, with lace trim at the hem, sleeves and bodice. It was very light, almost sheer, and the back lighting accentuated every curve. I stared at her openingly, only half awake, feeling my cock lengthening, growing harder with the moment.
She stood there, still, watching me. I swept the comforter aside and stood up, aware that cock was tenting the pajama bottom's. I heard her intake of breath. I walked across the room to wear she was standing and took her gently by the hand. I led her into the bedroom, across the floor to the full length dressing mirror. I stood her in front of the mirror and moved behind her. She shivered as my cock grazed her round ass. The sensation only made me harder. I looked over her shoulder and whispered in the shell of her ear.
"This is what I was dreaming of tonight."
I placed my hands on her full hips and slowly slid them over her silk gown, sliding them up and across her stomach, sliding slowly, inch by inch. Donna's eyes were riveted on the slow travel of my hands. I reached the rounded curve under her breast and slowly cupped them, lifting them, caressing them. She moaned. I slide my thumbs across the pebbles of her nipples, slowly circling them, feeling and watch them harden. The scent of lust spilled into the room.
"Such beautiful breasts." I whispered in her ear, "Such gorgeous nipples." I reached up and slid the strap of the gown off one of her shoulders, slowly peeling the gown down and off her shoulder. I leaned in and kissed her bare neck. Her skin was hot. I peeled the gown from her breast, exposing a dark brown nipple, engorged and erect. I caught her nipple between my thumb and finger and pinched it. She whimpered and leaned back into me.
