I have been napping. The stuffy darkness of the guest room greets me with black on black, and I can barely see my own hands. Downstairs the house is alive with the rest of the family. The whole family. My daughter will have arrived with her husband Todd by now - I think I can almost hear his deep voice from the busy kitchen. Sara and John and the children must have arrived already. I can hear shouts from the backyard. My husband will have turned on the porch lights so they can run around in the backyard with the dog. My sons will probably be out there too with beers and maybe football.
I am alone in the guest room. It gets darkest in here and after a full week's planning I came up here to get rested before the main event. I fell asleep.
Now my clothes are hot and stick to me. My sweater pulls tight against my chest from where it has bunched in the back. I left my jeans on, but I'm not wearing panties. Not that it matters - my body is moist between my thighs from sweating under the covers. The moistness extends down my thighs from the skin beneath my buttocks, even over my knees, and my feet are warm in my cotton socks. I've even sweat lightly under my armpits.
I wipe my forehead and roll beneath the sheets. It's been a hot July so far and this small room is stuffy. I can smell myself, but it's not unpleasant. The sweat, too, is damp against my sides and my back. For now it's good, like waking up on a sultry morning with a shower to look forward to. I know I should get up but I'm still groggy, still tired. I have to go downstairs. The family is still getting settled in the house but they'll come for me soon enough. I think I can hear someone coming up the stairs already.
I pass my hand once more over my eyes. I'd like to see the sparkle of my clear nail polish, like I would if it were morning. But it is early dusk and the room is absolutely black. I take a deep breath and suddenly shiver; the rub of my nipples against my bra sends a delightful buzz down to my clammy belly. Little tingles alight in my palms and behind my knees. No, the sweat is not unpleasant at all. But it is very stuffy in here.
A creak behind the door. I should sit up but I'm lethargic. I lie on my side and listen to the floor creak again. Then the door opens a crack. Bright light whips at the room. I shut my eyes against it and soon it's gone. But I hear the soft breathing of my visitor.
I think it's Dan, my husband, come to wake me up, so I unclench myself and stretch beneath the covers. I don't quite stretch enough to seem awake, but my body relaxes, audibly in the bed, for the visitor to hear. They come forward lightly, careful not to disturb me. The silence in the room is broken by the footsteps, but the house downstairs is a cascade of happy voices, pots and pans, the TV, comings and goings. Whoever is in the room to wake me up sits on the bed. I keep my eyes closed. Under my eyelids the bright spots from the sudden light still glow dimly. I wonder if my visitor can even see me.
It's not long that I have to wait for my answer. A gentle hand sweeps my hair from my face. The fingers graze my cheek lightly. The body bends on the bed, down to my face, and kisses me just as lightly, on the mouth.
At first the kiss just catches my upper lip. It is very dark in here, of course. Once it catches my lip, though, the kiss spreads over my mouth. The kiss is warm, and so sweet in the quiet darkness here that I open my lips and exhale. Emboldened, the kiss grows more tender, slipping a tongue over my own. The hand slides over my cheek and brings me closer, in towards the kiss. I'm tasting him.
The kiss is good. The kisser takes my hand, which reaches up to touch his face. I feel drunk in the stuffy room, and maybe still dreaming. I feel tired and alert, and electricity seems to flow just under my skin, all flowing down from my neck, which throbs, both with my increasing heart rate and the movement of my mouth, opening wider for more tongue. I allow the kiss to go on. It is no longer light. It is aggressive, the lips over my lips hungry for this, taking full advantage of my willingness. The hand on mine moves back behind his neck. He hangs my fingers behind his hair. Whose hair is this? My fingers sift up into it.
The kiss is broken. His mouth moves across my cheek, kisses the line of my jaw, and slips under, kissing the perspiration on my neck. He is reaching beneath me. He is pulling me up from the bed, into a sitting position.
I do not struggle. I can pretend that I am still sleepy, and that his strong arms are taking advantage of my drowsy confusion. Does he think I don't know? I make little noises in my mouth but don't protest aloud. His hands are suddenly on my arms. He twists me in place in a sitting position and comes up behind me on the bed. He kisses the back of my neck. His warm lips trip tenderly down the tips of my spine. So I tilt my head forward.
He knows I've been sleeping. Is this how he meant to wake me up? His hands slide down my back, massaging their way down. It feels good to give in to that. He touches me like that, at times skillful in pressing the spaces of flesh through my wet clothes that need pressure, and yet unable to hide the urgency in his touches. We haven't said a word. And with each of his touches, with each emboldened caress the not talking becomes palpable. My muteness is enough consent for him.
No, not muteness. He can hear my heavy breath.
His breath flows over the nape of my neck. His hands glide over my ribs until he reaches my chest. Then he seizes me roughly. Yes, this is what he wants. What he was searching for. My hands cover his, and for a stunned, silent minute this stranger is groping me through my shirt. He squeezes my breasts, and I push my back into his body. I mold myself to his chest. I know I shouldn't, because I know now from his silence and his need and his hands that this is not the husband I know, but I have woken from my nap with a deep, fuzzy urge between my legs, and I want to be touched this way. I feel light headed in this heat. One of his hands reaches down for my crotch. The fingers press my zipper. In the dark perhaps he is my husband. I could be confused.
His other hand glides down my belly. I hold the backs of both his hands, the one at my stomach...and the other, which fondles. Then his fingers slip under my shirt. And I feel his bare hand on my clammy belly. If he is my husband he is playing a game we've never played before, and I want him to continue. I want to know how far he'll go, in this big house where secrets are few.
He has drawn me against his muscular chest, pulled me in against his body. I now sit on the mattress with my head tilted back, and my shoulders touching his own. Our bodies rock in a heavy cadence; his neck stretches against mine, so that my face is pressed to his ear and cheek. His hands are pressed tightly against my stomach and cunt. He pushes me back...so that I feel his hard erection through his pants. I feel it against the base of my spine. I know his intentions; I knew that from the way he kissed me (and now from the way he works his fingers up my skin, to my shivering breasts). He wants me to rub my buttocks against it, through my tight jeans.
I don't know if he knows I can't help it, but I stick my heiny out as much as I can from this position and drag it up and down his covered shaft.
When he groans, I let out my first. Needfully, he tries to reach up beneath my bra, but he can't. He doesn't know how big my breasts are, and how tight the bra fits.
I have big breasts. Big, pillowy breasts, as the man who I almost married said. He was not like my husband; he was hard and rough, and he had little ambition beyond getting me in the back of his car. But he fucked like a lion, and he spent hours telling me what turned him on about my beautiful body. Big, pillowy breasts, he said. Fat breasts he wanted to hold and caress all night in the back of his car. Plump buttocks he told me he needed to slap.
The man behind me reminds me of him, because I know if he doesn't get to them he'll find a way to make me. But it's very hot. And since it's so hot I reach under the sweater, grasp the hem and pull it off. I hear it flutter to the ground where I toss it. Then he grabs my forehead and tilts my head back, not roughly...but firmly.
I am held in place by his hand on my forehead, not facing him, sitting up with my legs tucked under me. His mouth is on my neck and it is so warm. Everything is so warm. His wet lips again, giving me his saliva to swallow. His hands find my own and he makes me grope myself. My hands cover my bra, and my fat breasts barely contained inside them. It has been years since I have felt this urge so strongly. My breasts roll stiffly under the fabric. My nipples hurt. It is because of the dark, and the heat, and my kissing stranger. And truthfully, I hadn't realized I wanted to feel this way. The man behind me, with his firm pushes into my behind, with his mouth breathing into my ear, with his hands forcing me to caress my own breasts, knows this. He must know this, because he moves so surely.
I reach to undo the clasp in my bra. It pops off easily and my big, pillowy breasts drop free. His hands are on them in an instant.
I gasp. He tears the bra away from my arms, taking me by the wrists. Then his hands return to my bosom. They are big enough to take each in a handful. The weight of them is suddenly eased by his grasp. I am very hot. My breath comes shallowly, and I am afraid I can't breathe, but I need to get my pants off or else I'll suffocate. I know I'll suffocate. I need to take my pants off and it was silly to fall asleep in them, but now my legs need to breathe. The skin on my long legs needs to feel even the stuffy air of the guest room on them. I need to be above these covers, out of these pants. I'm sure he's hot too.
I twist in the covers. Out from under his hands. I twist on the damp sheet. I crawl backwards on the bed. Away from him. It's still impossible to tell what his face looks like in this darkness. All I can see is his silhouette, and the barest appearance of his muscular torso as he reaches for his shirt and pulls it off.
He crawls towards me on all fours, and I move back on my elbows, towards the head of the bed, into the pillows. He's over me now. Our breath flies back and forth at each other like the ghosts of savage creatures. He lunges to flatten me on the bed. My breasts jiggle as I hit the mattress. They ripple liquidly, and I hear myself let out a high gasp as his tongue darts at one stiff nipple. My hands go to his thick hair. What if he eats me? What if that's what he's come up here to do? I actually think this as he kisses down to my belly, and slides his tongue into my bellybutton. My stomach is jumping now with every heartbeat. My breath is fast; my heart is judding. He pops open my pants button. Then his fingers take the zipper. My bare ass suddenly touches the bed sheet. He's pulling my pants down.
I raise my legs to let him slide them off. Almost naked now. I am almost completely naked in the guest bed, covered in sweat, no panties. There's a man in the room (a most definite man), and he's getting off the bed to drop my jeans next to my sweater. I can see his body in the dim light from under the door. And I can see him unzipping his pants. He's going to fuck me.
"Take my socks off," I whisper.
I can see his balls swing from under his stiff cock. I can see that sticking out of his silhouette.
His lips touch my shin. He reaches up to caress my firm calf. He squeezes it, firmly, like a good cantaloupe. And he flits out his tongue with each kiss, so that it is wet. He peels one thick sock off my foot, working it down my toes. Then he kisses my toes. I sigh, and it becomes a gasp. He licks my toe, and sucks on the little one. I rub my other sock against his cheek. He pulls that one off quickly. Then he stands.
He reaches between my knees. Strong. His fingers grip the flesh of my thighs. I am shaking. My whole body is shaking. I no longer feel tired anymore but I feel dizzy, my head swims. I can still hear so many voices downstairs and I cannot breathe.
His mouth suddenly fastens over my pussy. His tongue slobbers up and down the slit of my thick labia. He sounds like an animal, and it's disgusting, and I'm so wet. I grab his hair and shove him down in my lap. Sitting up in the bed, my knees rise up to and fall over his shoulders and I force my cunt up into his mouth. My toes curl and my whole body shakes and he doesn't stop eating me. I'm pouring. I'm drenching his mouth with my hungry pussy juice and he just keeps licking it and sucking on my clit.
I hear him swallow.
