The Overnight Guest

The decision to merge our smaller aviation design and supply company with a larger international based consortium located in Montreal was one that required almost a full year of discussion by our Executive and Board of Directors. Finally however the vote was cast and by a small margin we became a regional office of one of the largest international aviation equipment manufacturers in existence. I, as the local manager, was selected to represent our agency at a series of meetings scheduled in Montreal to organize and implement the process of change. Through that visit and initial meeting, a relationship was established and a friendship ignited and grew.

The blonde, tall, husky German design engineer who met me at the Montreal terminal introduced himself as Ernest, and almost immediately, the first spark of our friendship formed. We chatted incessantly of technical and personal matters during the drive from the airport to the office complex, and long before we reached our destination, he had invited me to join him and his wife for dinner. Later that evening over candlelight and a delicious dinner he, his wife Bianca, and I relaxed enjoying the warmth of conversation and, in turn, making plans for his upcoming visit to our Eastern regional office.

Bianca was dark haired and attractive, a short mere five feet to Ernest's six feet plus, and obviously one who enjoyed the fruits of her culinary abilities. Later that evening with the slightest brush of a kiss on my cheek, she wished me good night as I climbed into my cab and departed to my hotel.

Weeks later, and as a result of many telephone conversations, planning, and admittedly some scheming to extend his stay, I was returning the favor as I met his incoming flight. Lorna, my wife, had insisted that I, in turn, should invite our German friend and business colleague for dinner. Following an afternoon of meetings and a quick visit to his hotel, we were en route to my home where Lorna would play hostess over an evening which she hoped would equal that which I had experienced in Montreal.

Lorna at 5'6" and 125 lbs is a slender brunette with her hair cut in a teasingly pixieish style that so many men including myself find incredibly attractive. Her small but firm 34B breasts are topped with the most delicious nipples that any man has ever had the opportunity to enjoy. Her firm and slightly rounded tummy flares into hips that have at their core and joining with her thighs, a dark, soft growth of curled pubic hair that she keeps trimmed but relatively full. Its darkness hides a mystery that never ceases to amaze me with every look, touch, taste, and penetration. Now there was little doubt as introductions were made, that in a fitted mid thigh navy skirt and loose cream blouse, her legs bare and tanned from the summer sun, she had lost none of her attraction to the opposite sex. Ernest was quite taken, and although perfect in his discretion, had difficulty in hiding his interest and atraction.

Later as I drove him back to his hotel, he quietly turned the conversation to her.

"Lorna is one hell of a beautiful lady, Charlie" he grinned turning to me.

"You devil," I smiled looking quickly in his direction as I drove. "Your eyes were all over her."

"I apologize," he replied as we turned into the hotel parking lot. "but as much as I love Bianca, Lorna is so different, slim, attractive and hellish sexy. Damn you're lucky."

Realizing that my wife was home at this very moment relaxing, probably with a drink herself and one poured for me with the promise of her warm naked body twitching beneath me later that evening in our queen size bed, I was already somewhat aroused. Now as Ernest expounded on her physical attributes, I couldn't resist the temptation to explore his interests further. Quickly accepting his invitation for a small nightcap, I parked and followed him to the quiet first floor hotel lounge.

Almost immediately as we shared a corner table, the conversation re-focused as I hoped it would, and almost as quickly, I realized that his interests expanded far beyond that of complimenting my wife.

"Charlie," he murmured as he settled his lanky frame into a chair. "Have you two ever discussed, in fantasy or otherwise, a more open relationship? Bianca and I do frequently, simply dreaming about it, I admit, but it is a powerful fantasy, and I suppose one day we might consider it as a reality."

"Of course," I admitted. "We all have, I suspect, in some fashion. Lorna is quite confident in her own sexuality, but if I really want to get that woman off, all I have to do is do a little role-play involving another man and bam she's having an orgasm like no other."

I watched as he obviously processed my comments and then pausing, possibly assessing my reaction to his suggestion, leaned forward slightly and quietly made the comment that would ultimately provide the material for this story.

"Charlie, you're due to visit the Montreal office again next month, am I correct?"

"Yes," I replied. "I am."

"Why not bring Lorna along as a little vacation, shopping and so on? Be our guests for a few days, and if you're comfortable with the idea, on a specified evening allow me to take her alone to a restaurant downtown, and you can take Bianca somewhere as well for dinner or whatever. We, as you know, have a large guest bedroom, and, if Lorna doesn't join you that night in the guest room, then you must realize that she will be very naked behind the closed door of my bedroom as I do things with her that you my friend probably have never dreamed of."

Seeing my expression changing as he spoke and realizing the impact that his conversation was having upon me, he continued. "And you, Charlie, will no doubt be joined in the guest room by Bianca, and if you doubt me, let me say that we have already discussed and agreed upon this little plan. Think about it, my friend. We can discuss it again when you and hopefully Lorna are ready."

Drinks finished, we both stood and he grinned seeing my semi erection as I straighten and walked with him to the door.

My drive home was a blur of thought and emotion. Lorna was waiting, the soft light of the bedside table bathing her as she sat in bed the tiny straps of a cream satin gown the only disruption to the nakedness of her tanned shoulders. Minutes later, as she sprawled nude beneath me, legs parted, gasping, hands clenching my shoulders, I quietly and carefully commenced my fantasy. In this case almost word for word of Ernest's conversation earlier.

Her reaction was as I hoped. Lorna, to exclude herself from reality and further absorb herself in the fantasy, rolled upon her side and presented her ass to me. Spooning into her and sipping my cock into her slippery warmth, I continued. My murmured comments were just describing the emotions which I would experience as I ascended Ernest's stairway and seeing his bedroom door closed, possibly hearing faint sounds within and realizing that at that very moment she was spread naked and sweating beneath him as he worked the length and breath of his no doubt massive cock deep up into her, when she tensed, moaned deep in her throat, and convulsed.

The next evening as she and I relaxed over dinner, she softly broached the subject of our friend.

"Charlie, when does Ernest return to Montreal?" she asked.

"Saturday afternoon, dear," I replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Friday night is free," she replied. "Why not invite him over for dinner again. We can enjoy a late dinner and spare him the agony of a cold Friday evening dinner at the hotel."

Although the events of the previous evening were still fresh in my mind, neither her expression nor suggestion gave me cause for further consideration. A short telephone call to Ernest's hotel room later confirmed our and his plans for Friday evening.

Friday afternoon at the office is a relaxing time, and after my boss, Ernest, and I enjoyed a somewhat liquid lunch, my boss left for the golf course, and I dropped Ernest back at his hotel with a promise to meet him at the entrance at 8 PM. Punctually, I pulled up a the door as Ernest in tan slacks and polo shirt, wine in one hand and flowers in the other, slipped into the car. A short drive home where Lorna, dressed in a knee length, navy and lightly flowered caftan, greeted us both and smilingly accepted the gifts of both wine and flowers. Leaving them together, I slipped down a level to our family room and having selected some music, slipped several discs into the player and then, drinks in hand, returned to both our guest and wife.

To say that my wife eluded an incredible sexuality was an understatement. The caftan, although loose, fell around her as though she was melted into it. Her naked and well tanned legs crossed revealed the slightest teasing glimpse of thigh, and it was obvious to both Ernest and me that her small breasts were unencumbered by a bra. Later over dinner she demonstrated that her physical qualities were equaled by her culinary abilities and, over coffee and a light brandy, we chatted into the evening.

Dinner aside and as they both moved into the softly lit living area, I slipped downstairs and once again renewed both the music and our refreshments. Returning I was not surprised to find Lorna wrapped in the arms of our German friend as they moved slowly to the music of the stereo. As the evening progressed she found herself seldom given the opportunity to sit as both Ernest and I shared her, time after time, moving to the music with her in our arms. My earlier suspicions were confirmed, beneath her caftan there was Lorna and obviously only a tiny pair of panties, and there was little doubt that Ernest was also early to realize this. I watched with jealous arousal as his hands caressed and stoked her back sometimes drifting low outside the thin material of her caftan.

Close to midnight, as Lorna and I were locked in an embrace to the music, Ernest excused himself and asked directions to the downstair's bathroom. As he disappeared, I murmured, "Hell Lorna, if he's reacting to holding and feeling you as I am, then he's probably going down to take a cold shower".

"Do you like what you see and feel?" she smiled teasing me.

"Damn, yes," I muttered boldly dropping my hand to feel her ass outside her caftan.

"Ummmm," she murmured settling against me.

"You know that he's dying to feel you, perhaps even see you.......naked," I whispered.

I sense her tummy quivering in excitement as she softly replied, "Yes, I know."

"And?" I questioned simply.

"How would you react if I he did?" she asked her eyes fastened on mine as we stood motionless, all thought of dancing forgotten.

"Just some touching, nothing more?" I asked hardly believing her.

Silently, her face intense, she nods.

"Okay," I whisper. "Let me arrange it. I'll give him permission so to speak, and then it will be up to him to take it further and up to you to set the limits."

She moved into me holding me as my hands dropped, and finding the hem of her caftan, I lifted it up over the backs of her calves and thighs. Slipping my thumbs beneath the waist band of her tiny cream bikini panties, I slipped them down. As she lifted her feet one by one, I grasped the wisp of warm damp material and slipped them into my pocket.

We heard the flush of a toilet from downstairs, and I quickly moved away and watched as Lorna settled on to the sofa. With the tread of footsteps on the stairs, I gave her one last glance and as she shared a tiny nervous smile with me, I moved toward the kitchen.

"Ernest," I called as he appeared at the head of the stairs.

"Hey, Charles," he grinned stepping into the room with me. "I peeked while I was down in your family room. Nice sound system that you have down there."

"Thanks," I agreed lowering my voice. "Can we chat quietly for just a moment?"

Puzzled, he studied my face as grinning I remove my hand from my pocket, the tiny wisp of damp satin resting in my palm. His eyes widened as they looked first at my hand and then my face.

"Take them," I murmured quietly handing them to him. "There's just her beneath that caftan now, and she's in there sitting, I suspect waiting for a dance. I'm going downstairs to check my e-mail, and I'll be gone at least twenty minutes," I said as I turned aside and headed for the stairs.

"Lorna," I called as I descended. "I'll be on the computer for twenty minutes or so. I'll freshen yours and Ernest's drinks when I come back up."

In the den I checked my watch and impatiently waited a measured five minutes.

Slipping off my shoes, I carefully tiptoed across the carpeted family room to the stairs. The music although not loud, I realized would probably disguise any squeak, but nevertheless I cautiously ascended one step at a time until I reached the level where I had, through the stair rails, an unobstructed view of the living area. The music was soft, slow and sensual and as I expected he had her in his arms. Her arms were around his neck, her head resting upon his shoulder, his head lowered against hers. As he turned her slightly, I saw that her eyes were closed. The slow motion continued and now as her back was presented to me, I saw his hands; his left hand quite chastely positioned upon her upper back, guiding her but his right hand low upon her ass cheeks outside the thin material of her caftan caressing her in slow sensual motions. I watched as his fingers moved and saw the motion of the hem as he tugged it high, the backs of her knees, her thighs exposed, and then his hand slipped inside and the folds of the material dropped back in place over his wrist and arm, his hand now a lump moving inside the material over her naked ass.

Any pretense at dancing ceased as they stood, and then I watched as she shifted holding him for balance to part her legs and then almost immediately I heard her soft gasp as he found her. The slow fluttering of the material left no doubt as to his actions, and his forearm pistoned slowly in and out as he gently finger fucked her.

There was the slightest movement as she tightened her arms around his neck as if depending upon him for support, and her head pressured deeper into his neck as the movement of his forearm increased in both speed and depth. His left hand, previously supporting her back, slid low and, grasping the hem of her gown, lifted it high exposing her naked ass. His hand spread almost the width of her incredible ass and moved slowly low then paused. Suddenly with a gasp her eyes sprung open, round and black, and I watched her lift slowly on her toes straining upward as the pressure of his left middle finger increased against the tiny puckered ring of her anus. A sigh and slowly, cautiously she relaxed down and against him as with his broad palm covering her ass cheeks, his thick middle finger sunk deep within the hot velvet tightness of her colon.

Ernest turned quickly and I ducked out of sight but realized that he had glanced at the clock and now, while his hands still worked inside her, he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. I heard her murmur, and she slowly lifted her head off his shoulder and looking up their eyes locked. I saw her nod and then his hands reappeared from beneath her gown as he stepped back slightly, his eyes studying her.

"At least another ten minutes," he whispered.

Once again she nodded and rewarded him with a weak smile as her hands lifted and grasped the straps of her caftan. Slowly, with her eyes never leaving his, she slipped them over her shoulders and eased then down over her trembling breasts with her tiny nipples noticeably erect, and her slightly rounded but incredibly erotic tummy. Then as I sprang to full erect hardness, the soft dark pubic hair curled between her thighs was fully exposed to his eyes.

Her fingers relaxed and the gown fell into a pool unto the floor. Both were motionless for seemingly long moments, and then with a whisper, he moved toward her taking her nakedness gently into his arms. His right hand now scooped low cupping her dark mound, and, as I saw her lips part and her eyes flutter closed, I realized that he had once again slide his finger into her slick warmth. He turned her slightly, and now her back and ass were clearly visible. His left hand caressed the smooth skin of her back and waist as he circled lower, and Lorna realized his intentions as I clearly saw the tiny puckered rose of her anus flare as she strained to open it for his probing finger. Silent moments passed, and then I heard the low sound of his voice. Lorna lifted her head from his shoulder and with his fingers still busily active between her legs, she slumped against him and allowed him to shuffle her awkwardly across the room to the sofa.

Easing her down, he followed and, as she settled, he knelt in front of her parting and lifting her legs. His head lowered and almost disappeared from my view, but again his actions were revealed as she stiffened and strained upward, her head arched back against the sofa back, one of her hands tangled in his hair while the other clutched the material of the sofa. Despite her efforts to remain relatively quiet, her gasps and low moans were obvious from my voyeur position.

Surprised at the manner in which this had progressed, my emotions were a mixture of intense jealousy and arousal. However, unwilling and unprepared to allow it to progress further, I carefully but quickly descended the stairs. I had barely reached the bottom step when I heard a guttural grunt that frequently signifies one of her painfully intense orgasms. I realized that above me at this very moment Ernest was watching as my beautiful wife strained on the sofa, her body no doubt arched, a prelude to her reaction of the next few moments when her pelvis was captured by her orgasmatic spasms and her hips and body vibrated uncontrollably before his eyes. Frequently such climaxes were accompanied by her slight loss of bladder control, and I reminded myself to check the sofa and carpet for such telltale signs when I returned upstairs.

Returning to the den, I slipped into my shoes and now making no pretense at silence I called from the family room, "I'll be up in a moment with your refills."

Drinks in hand, I moved upstairs and into the living room. Lorna was sitting on the sofa caftan on and carefully arranged. She smiled at me somewhat weakly. Her face noticeably flushed, she accepted the drink from my hand. As I passed the frosted glass to her, I glanced down briefly and easily identified a small but spreading wet stain on the carpet and a line of wetness trailing down the sofa. Ernest was occupying the adjacent armchair, legs crossed obviously attempting somewhat unsuccessfully to hide a huge erection.

"Well guys," I said. "I have my work done and now I can relax. Ernest it's late, and hell we've all been drinking. We have a spare room down the hall. Why not forget the hotel and be our guest tonight?"

My back was to Lorna; my eyes watching him as I made the suggestion. I saw his eyes flicker toward hers and a message was obviously transmitted between them.

"Charlie," he agreed. "that's a great idea,and I'll gladly accept your offer. I don't have PJs and I don't need them as my boxers will do. It's been a long day and super evening, but if it's okay with you folks and if you'll show me the room, I'll turn in now."

An hour later a warm and damp Lorna struggled out from beneath me and slipping naked out of bed, slipped several tissues out of a night table box and dabbed carefully between her legs trying to absorb and wipe away the excess of my semen which continued to ooze from within her vagina.

"Charlie," she smiled. "That was the best. Hell, how much did you cum?"

"Well, I was motivated," I grinned. "Now come back in here and let's get some sleep."