Happy 4th of July, Mrs. Johnson

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.

He gulps my womanly fluid.

It doesn't take much more of that before I'm on my back. And I can't get up again. His balls drag against my thigh. I try to reach for him but I can't, I just can't. All the muscles in my arms are committed to reaching to the edge of the mattress. I'm crosswise on the mattress, and he's over me, and I can feel his cock between my legs. I mean I know it's there. It hasn't actually touched me but I know it's there because I know what men are shaped like and he's right on top of me and his...heat...is practically inside me.

My fingers wrap tightly over the edge of the mattress, and the sheets are stretched beneath my hair. If my family walked in right now they'd see Dan's wife with her legs up, her pussy soaked, staring at the ceiling of the guest room, about to let a stranger's cock into her. It's so hot, I think, I can't help it. My legs are slick with perspiration, and he's already sweating. I want to be helped. I want to be fucked. Impaled. Penetrated. My hips begin to rock towards him.

He touches my forehead. Then he reaches, as gently as he can, to tilt my head forward. I can't see his face. I can only see the dim blur of his body. But I can feel his cock now. It's at the slit of my pussy. The head of his dick feels like something that should be on a bull.

"Push," he says.

I feel him on my opening. But he won't go in. He won't put it in me. Does he want me to do it? Does he want me to put that thing in me? To commit this bestial act?

I've never wanted it more in all my life. I want him to slide the whole thing up inside me. I want it to be big, and rough. To feel dirty about it. I wiggle my ass on the bed.

"Ahh," I gasp as I ease forward on the mattress. Its smooth head parts the wet lips of my vagina. My vagina folds inward with the first inch of him.

The sound of his penis entering me is for a brief moment the only sound I can hear. It does something to us both. His other hand lets go of his cock and reaches for my tit. My knuckles must be white on the mattress's edge.

"Keep going," he says.

So of course I do. "Ahhn," I gasp. I open my legs and slid further off the bed. His cock pushes in. His cock, that I can't see but only feel, is thick, and ready for me to swallow it whole with my hot pussy. It does not tremble as I do. It remains firm and smooth. It is naked, between my legs, the wetness of each causing it to slide where it brushes my thighs.

"More," he whispers.

"Ah. Ah..."

"Deeper."

"Nnng." I keep wiggling my body to push myself further down, further down, off the mattress so that my ass hangs in the air, but there's still a bit of his big dick that's left in the air. He bends at the waist.

I grab the back of his neck and let out a muted cry. I cannot slide any further off the bed and I need him to stop teasing me.

His dick plunges deeper. It forces me back onto the bed. Oh, it hurts, but it pains my vaginal opening in a way that is stridently needed. I open my mouth for a silent scream and have to wrap my legs around his waist. He is inside me. His unknown penis is wedged into my pussy. His naked head is deep in my cunt, uncovered, oozing its first drops of clear precum inside my warm canal. It is inside me. It's engorged inside me.

His mouth covers mine and he plunges again. He rocks his hips against mine. I clutch at his back. He slides in deeper.

The heat of the room is overwhelming. The smell of the two of us is already thick in the air. Outside there is laughter. The barbecue has begun. Downstairs more pans are being moved in the kitchen. He breathes into my mouth and I feel his wet balls against my ass.

It is so hard not to scream. I hardly scream but this, what we're doing, this, this is a time for screaming. He grunts into an open kiss. I groan as he makes my breasts bounce. The slap of our bodies colliding covers up my deep moan. I try to cover my mouth but he grabs my wrists and holds them to the bed. His thrusts become long, controlled, and powerful.

My pussy leaks. Now we are two moist bodies in the complete darkness. He kisses me for an instant with absolute tenderness, as if until now that kiss was a secret he kept close to him, that he wanted to tell me only in the most private setting. In this total seclusion, surrounded by the liveliness of the house, his cock bulges in my uterus and this kiss unlocks a muscle in my stomach. That sends a fierce tingle throughout my belly, and tightens my vagina. Around his insistent cock.

Muffled gasps push out our mouths. For myself I pray that my soft pants go no further than the door. My pussy aches with every throb of my muscles. Its filled with his firm member. He's so hard. So much harder than...

He pulls out and drops beside me. His hands are on me. His hands lift me. I am in his lap. He is lying on his back. He takes hold of his penis and guides it up between my legs.

But I stop him.

I straddle his legs, reaching down to clutch his manhood.

This is mine. This thick cock that has penetrated me, it reacts to my curious fingers. Its soft skin sticks to my palms. My sticky fingers. The skin is soft but the blood inside it makes it hard, and it is strong in my hand.

I hear him groan beneath me. He wants it inside me, but he did not expect me to pull him. To stroke him. Squeeze him.

I raise my hips and rub the underside of his shaft against my puffy slit. His penis jerks and spills more pre-cum into my hands; it dribbles over my knuckles. He lifts his hands to squeeze my ass. He wants it in me. He pulls me forward.

I push his slippery dick into my snatch. My legs hug his hips. My hands press into his chest, and I grind down. I barely suppress the groan that churns out of me. I can be on top in the darkness.

I groan. I am fucking him. I am on top of him and his shaft is buried in me. I am wetting his thick pubic hair. I am dripping all over him. Him, with his thick, male musk, emanating from his chest; his balls. His hands reach up to my lower back. He pulls me tighter towards his hips. His cock rubs my G spot. "Yess..." hisses between my lips. He reaches a hand up my neck. I have to push my face against it. His cock is deep and it's the only thing I can feel right now. I want to cum on him. I want to cum so badly and until this moment I don't know if I've ever needed to cum this much. I want him...endlessly. His finger slips into my mouth and I suck on it. I suck on it, even though I would never do such a thing. Except here in the darkness, in the sweat, riding him.

When he turns his hips, I fall down onto the bed. I knew this was coming.

I crawl forward as his penis drips out of my pussy. My leg opens to let it happen, and then I roll onto my knees. His hand slaps my ass. It stings, and it's completely inappropriate. His hands grip my hips. I knew this was coming. He gets on his knees behind me. I get up on all fours. On the mattress.

When his penis opens my pussy this time, he goes gently, but he goes deep. His hands caress my buttocks, the way he's always wanted to. How many days has he imagined me without my pants on? How often has he fantasized to me or, no, thought of taking me while I stirred the crockpot? He's behind me now. Where is the family? Will they find me like this? With him behind me, sticking it to me, giving it to me, on all fours. I'm on all fours. The sheet of the guest bed is pulled back. My hands are splayed flat on the mattress. Wet. It's all wet. I can feel my wedding band biting into my skin. His ring bites into my flesh when his fingers squeeze my thighs. He's wringing it out of me. He's earning every drop of cum that slips from me. My ass is soaked. And he slaps it.