The Guest 15

I arrived home from work and strolled into the kitchen to find my wife chatting with a young lady. Quite an attractive young lady, too.

I raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Mike," my beloved exclaimed. "This is Dion. Dion, this is Mike, my husband."

We exchanged names by way of a greeting and shook hands.

"Dion is an old friend of mine. She currently lives interstate and is visiting for a week. I've invited her to stay with us for the week. You don't mind, do you?"

Mind having a pretty young thing who wore abbreviated clothing stay for a week? No, I don't think I had any objections. (I was basing my guess on her preference for abbreviated clothing on the outfit she was currently wearing.)

We had dinner and got a little better acquainted, mainly by me listening in to Samantha and Dion nattering away.

I got up in the morning and was wandering down the hall in the direction of breakfast when the main bathroom door opened and out popped Dion, wrapped in a towel. Now we had some splendid towels, big and fluffy, and I knew Samantha had put a couple on the bathroom for Dion. Was she wrapped on one of these towels? No way. She was wrapped in something that was little more than a hand towel, barely covering her nipples and mons. If she'd taken a deep breath she probably would have shown both.

"Morning," she said with a big smile, brushing past me, not knowing how lucky she was that she retained that towel. My hands had been itching to yank it off.

From the look on her face she was being deliberately provocative, assuming that with Samantha there I wouldn't do anything, and she was right. I did make a note of it, though.

The next time I saw her she was under-dressed in her abbreviated clothing and a big smile. I was polite and ignored both smile and clothes and Samantha dragged Dion out for a day's shopping.

Saturday night was a repeat of Friday, girls chattering away and me quietly in the background, listening. And giving consideration to Sunday morning.

Sunday morning started out the same was as Saturday morning. Me strolling towards breakfast, Dion popping out of the bathroom, barely covered by a towel, and giving me a bright, "good morning".

"Ah, Dion, you've dropped something," I said as she went to brush past me.

"What?" she asked, startled.

"The towel," I calmly replied, tweaking it out of her fingers and dropping it to the floor.

Dion gave a horrified gasp and ducked down to grab the towel while I had an excellent view of all her charms. Wrapping the towel back around her she gave me a scandalised look and hastily retreated. I continued on my way to breakfast, smiling.

When Dion reappeared she gave me a very put-upon look and didn't deign to speak to me. By that time Samantha was up and she and Dion wandered off about their business.

Monday morning was different. Samantha was up before me, racing around and getting ready for work. I was on afternoon shift for the next few days. We'd implemented a big software upgrade over the weekend and I would be on site afternoon and evening in case there were problems. The fact that it had gone in smoothly without me being called suggested that everything would be fine. Still, management wanted me there when it actually ran for a few days, so there I would be.

Samantha departed and I decided to get some breakfast. No Dion as I walked down the hall and I smiled. Pity, as I'd have enjoyed looking over her figure again.

I'd finished breakfast, bar my coffee, when Dion came sauntering into the kitchen, not really looking around. She was tastefully attired in a very small pair of panties with matching bra, both items more decoration that required clothing. She was yawning and stretching when she saw me and froze, a deer trapped by the spotlight.

I rose to my feet, smiling.

"Hold it," I rapped out when it looked as though she was going to turn and bolt, and like a silly goose she just stood there.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "You're supposed to be at work."

"Not yet," I amiably replied. "Afternoon shift for the next few days. You're very attractive you know."

I'd moved closer and was circling her, blatantly looking her over. She was blushing and refusing to look at me.

"Too many clothes," I said softly, reaching for the clasp on her bra. It was a front fastening bra and all I had to do was flick the clasp and the cups fell away, providing proof positive that her breasts didn't need that scrap of material to hold them in place.

Dion gasped and grabbed for the cups, looking shocked when I intercepted her hands.

"Don't do that," I told her. "I quite like the view as it is. Still, it would be improved if you'd slide your panties down."

"You're kidding," she said, sounding shocked. "You don't really expect me to take them down, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. You're already a little excited standing there with just your bra gone. You're wondering what it will feel like to be naked, being looked over by a man you barely know."

She gave me a defiant look and I smiled blandly back at her.

"I can take them down for you if you're too nervous to do it," I said, "but which will be more exciting? Me taking them off or you doing it, knowing I'm watching and you're going to be naked?"

Dion just looked at me, chewing on her lip. I could almost hear her wondering if I'd really take her panties off if she didn't. She must have decided I would because she gave a small sigh, reached down and pushed her panties down, letting the straps of her bra slide down her arms at the same time. She delicately stepped out of the panties, leaving panties and bra on the floor at her feet.

"Very nice," I said, nodding approvingly.

"I trust you won't object to me going and getting dressed now?" she grouched, and I laughed.

"You're kidding, right?" I said.

"Why would I be kidding?" she demanded. "Do you think I want to be naked in front of a strange man?"

"In a word, yes," I admitted. If she hadn't wanted to she could always have turned around and departed. It wasn't as though I had been holding her, or even touching her, for that matter. The most I'd done was flick open the catch on her bra.

"Well I don't," she half yelled.

"OK. You can run off and get dressed afterwards," I said.

"What do you mean, afterwards?" Suspicion was redolent in her voice.

"Well, first you're going to lean up against the table while I alleviate my frustrations on your hapless body," I said. "I'll leave it to you as to whether you lean backwards so you can watch me take you, or forwards so it comes as a pleasant surprise when my cock invades."

"You're going to rape me?" she asked, her voice a little high-pitched.

"Certainly not," I said, offended. "I'm just going to be a good host and provide you with some entertainment. If you don't want to be properly entertained you can always run away."

Seeing she didn't turn and bolt I reached out and cupped her breasts, thumbs rolling her nipples. A little gentle pressure and she was slowly backing up towards the table. As soon as her bottom was bumping against the table her arms went behind her to prop her up.

I touched a toe to her inner ankle, encouraging her to spread her legs further apart, and she did so. I then undid my trousers, pushing them and my shorts down, showing her the fun gun that she would be playing with. Her eyes widened slightly and her breathing became just a little harder as she looked down at me.

A hand between her legs and I was rubbing her, feeling her heat. She was already swollen, waiting, moisture seeping out. I parted her lips slightly, giving me a place to rest my cock. Taking my hand away my cock just pressed lightly against her, poised above her passage with just a touch of contact.

I watched her face as I pressed slightly harder. She seemed to be holding her breath, watching my cock press against her. It wasn't yet making any inroads but soon her lips would yield, letting me in, before closing around me and holding me. A little more pressure and her lips gave way, the head of my cock disappearing into her, her lips closing firmly around me, while she gave a little gasp and started breathing again, even if it was a little ragged.

I kept on pressing, finding Dion pushing to meet me, and I was now sliding down her passage quite smoothly. As soon as I was fully in I reversed direction and at the same time my hands closed over Dion's breasts, treasuring them. Dion was starting to make little moaning sounds, pressing her breasts into my hands while her hips worked in unison to mine, letting me make long slow thrusts.

I like the feel of flesh against flesh as I thrust in. I see no need to hurry this part of the proceedings and I just took my time, letting our arousals and excitement slowly build. (This isn't to say that there hasn't been those occasions where I've gone flat out right from the word go. Sometimes one must do things in a hurry. It was just that this wasn't one of those occasions.)

After some minutes of interesting exploration Dion started wanting a little more. I teased her for a while, continuing with the slow pace while she twisted about, irritably demanding that I go faster. I picked up the pace and Dion relaxed a little, eagerly moving with me, easily accommodating the faster pace. Typically, she wasn't satisfied, and after a couple more minutes was pressing for even more action on my part.

I had to pick up the pace twice more before I decided that Dion was about done. I damn well knew that I was. I picked up the pace one last time, giving it my all, pushing her towards the climax that was eagerly awaited. She screamed and sort of bucked against me and I cut loose, letting my juices flow.

Dion grabbed the scraps of nothing she'd been wearing and headed off to the bathroom. I just tidied myself up and went about my business. I idly wondered if she'd mention this to Samantha and, if so, how she'd explain it. If she did tell her Samantha would not be pleased. She'd bet me that Dion wouldn't yield until Wednesday, at least, and here it was only Monday.