The house was hot, stifling so. According to the guy on the radio, she had picked the hottest day of the summer to move in and, with no central air, there was nothing to do except open the windows and run the ceiling fans on high.
Pulling her thick, wavy auburn hair back into a ponytail, she walked from room to room, looking at the boxes the movers had left stacked in each one, trying to decide which ones couldn't wait for a cooler day to be unpacked. While she had dressed comfortably for the drive, the sweatpants and long-sleeved shirt proved too heavy in the heat and sweat began to drip into her deep brown eyes. Deciding to change into lighter clothes, she found the box she wanted in the bedroom.
Planted in the middle of three acres of woods, the house offered plenty of privacy, so she didn't worry about covering the windows. Stripping down to her bra and panties, she found a light t-shirt that fit loose over her large C-cup breasts and some shorts that hugged her nicely defined ass.
Once changed and barefoot, she set to unpacking the boxes. Starting in the kitchen, she unloaded the coolers into the fridge and freezer first, then just the basic flatware and utensils. At five-seven she didn't have to reach to place things on the bottom cupboard shelves, but left those items belonging on the higher shelves for another day.
Moving from room to room, her eyes sparkled happily and her slim lips curled into a genuine smile, enhancing her classically pretty features. She loved the fact that she had finally left her bustling city life behind for a simpler, country one.
Her ex-husband hadn't understood her desire to do it. He loved the city and the money they were making, hence the "ex" part. It had taken her almost five years to accept that if she was going to make the move, she would have to do it alone. But in the end, she had decided that, while he wasn't a bad husband, he also wasn't exactly a good one.
The divorce had been amicable enough, the prenup had set pretty clear guidelines. And they had been in the middle of it when she found the small ranch house on line. At the time she had been trying to figure out where she wanted to go, and with it sitting just twenty minutes from a fair-sized, northeastern town where she could open a little office, it seemed like the answer she had been looking for. So she had put in an offer without even seeing it in person. Now, months later, here she was.
Another advantage to the house was that it had come furnished, keeping her from having to haul her own pieces halfway across the country. Although she had been a little concerned about the articles, she had figured that they would do for a start. Then she could buy new as she needed to. But when she got there, she found all of them to be well-made and well-maintained, alleviating her concerns.
Eventually getting back to the bedroom, she started sorting out where to put her clothes. Stuck in the back corner of one of the dresser drawers she found a picture of a man in his mid-thirties wearing a toolbelt and standing in front of the house before it had been sided. Guessing that he was the local that had built the house, she couldn't help taking a moment to admire his ruggedly good looks, warm smile, and nice build. His parents, who had sold her the place, had told her that his name was Jason and that he had built the house to raise his future family in. But that plan had been cut short by a fatal accident a couple years after he had completed it. Thinking they would want the picture, she laid it atop the dresser with the intention of taking it by their home sometime in the next few days.
It was getting late when she decided she had done enough and headed for the master bath to shower. After scrubbing the day's sweat away, she turned the water to cool and stood under it for a few minutes. Drying off, she hung the towel on its bar then ran a brush through her wet hair. Again, the privacy of the house's location allowed her to stroll naked into the bedroom without any worries. Pulling a pair of panties from the dresser, the picture of Jason caught her eye and her lips curled into a different kind of smile as she briefly considered using her toy in the nightstand drawer.
It has been a while. She thought. With the move and everything else, she hadn't had the energy or urge recently. But now with the move complete, maybe she would. No. It's too damn hot.
Discarding the idea, she pulled the panties on and a sleeping shirt with spaghetti straps. The sides of the panties rode high on her hips, the front diving in a snug, sharp vee over her cleanly shaved sex, the back running in a less sharp vee across the middle of her asscheeks. The sleeping top hung comfortably over her breasts, its hem dangling near the panties' waistband.
Not bothering to put anything else on, she headed out to the main part of the house where she grabbed a pint of ice cream from the freezer on her way into the living room. Plopping down into a big comfortable chair, she snugged her legs up under her then turned the TV on to watch a late-night show.
When she decided to call it a night, the hour had done little to lessen the heat in the house. Removing the shirt, she pushed the blanket away before crawling into the queen-size bed under the moonlight cascading through the windows. Habit made her pull the sheet over her and, exhausted by the late hour and the day's efforts, she soon fell into a deep, sound sleep.
Dreaming, she rolled onto her back, one arm thrown out to the side, the other draped across the pillow beside her head. Laying diagonally across her body, the lower portion of the sheet covered her panties and one thigh while its top completely covered one breast, the edge lying midway across the other ample mound's prominent, dark pink nipple.
An invisible hand pulled the sheet aside, completely exposing her body to the moonlight. Then the hand gently caressed the outside of one of her breasts, its fingers creating the shallowest of furrows in the pliant flesh as it slipped down and across the bottom, then up the inside and across the top.
The touch awakened an ache within her breasts and stirred a warmth within her body, causing her to unconsciously shift so that she lay flatter upon the bed and offer the hand better access to her mounds. As the fingers retraced their path, a second set did the same to her other breast. This drew a quiet sigh from her.
For the next few minutes, the fingers slowly drew the shallow furrows this way and that over her fleshy mounds, occasionally swiping over her coin-sized nipples. Eventually the hands cupped her breasts. As they gently squeezed them with a suppressed hunger, the plaint flesh sunk and swelled with the manipulations.
In her dreams, it was a mysterious man touching her; one that she couldn't quite see or name, yet wanted doing the things he was doing. And, although invisible in reality, the hands were warm on her flesh. The manipulations fueled the ache within her breasts and, atop them, her nipples stiffened into pronounced spires. Another quiet sigh escaped her as she unconsciously brought her other arm up beside her head to offer the hands even better access to her.
Flattening her nipples under their palms one moment, then teasing and tweaking them the next, the hands' fondling of her breasts gradually grew hungrier. The fingers pressed at her pliant mounds firmer, molding and reshaping them with building vigor.
Fueled by this, the ache pulsed outward to strengthen the warmth flowing through her. Her breathing grew shallow, weighted sighs slipped past her lips. Above her head, her own fingers tensed so that her nails lightly scratched at the pillowcase. Below her waist, her legs began to scissor upon the bed, one foot kicking the sheet further away.
Eventually, one hand simply held a breast and, a moment later, warm breaths swirled over its swollen nipple. Mewling quietly in anticipation, she felt the invisible mouth drop around the nipple and suckle gently. In the moonlight this created a ring where the flesh was kind of drawn upward, the nipple itself flipping this way and that as an unseen tongue licked it.
Electricity sparked along her nipple's nerves, causing her to audibly inhale and arch her back slightly in offering. Growing even stronger, the ache stoked the warmth which in turn fanned the embers within her loins into glowing briquettes of lust. In the dream, the mysterious man was lying next to her and, as one of her scissoring legs made contact with his thick, rigid manhood, she pressed her thigh against it.
After suckling the one nipple for a couple of minutes, the mouth moved to the other one, allowing the night air to swirl over the dampness left behind on the first.
Between her scissoring legs her crackling embers caused her sex to grow damp and her hips to daintily roll as muted whimpers slipped passed her lips.
