Roger, The Lodger

God, she was horny!

It was difficult to concentrate on her prayers as she knelt by her bed in her long flannel night gown. She gave thanks for the good things in her life, remembered her husband who had passed away three years ago and her two children who were both away in college. She started to get up, remembered something and dropped back to her knees. "Also, send me a man. I haven't had sex with another human since my husband died. Amen."

She climbed into bed and pulled the covers tight to shield her from the nippy, Cape Cod, October weather. She lay there, letting her thoughts wander. It had been two years since the children left for school and she turned her beautiful four bedroom Tudor style house into a bed and breakfast inn. She really didn't need the money, but she needed the activity that went with running a successful business. She usually had a full house, and charged $20 a night, single, and $26 double. Right now, she only had one guest, Roger, an architect from Boston. He was overseeing some sort of a long-term project here on the Cape

Roger had been with her almost three weeks. She guessed that he was about 50 years old, perhaps six or seven years older than she was. She didn't know much about him except that he had money, and could afford to stay anywhere he wanted, but he said he liked the homey atmosphere of a bed and breakfast. Although she charged him full rate, he had some kitchen privileges other than breakfast. She let him keep beer and snacks in the refrigerator has long as he didn't take the snacks up to his room and ate them in the kitchen. However, he could drink the beer in the living room while he was watching television. He liked a particular beer from a microbrewery in Rochester, NY called Honey Brown.

That was probably why she was so horny now. She had just started watching a "R" rated movie on HBO when he came in and sat down with a beer in his hand. He often did that, stayed a few minutes, drank one beer and went off to bed. Once in a while he would watch TV for a longer time, maybe an hour or so and drink two beers before going to bed. Tonight was different. He drank three beers and watched the entire movie. It was a love story in which everybody made love to everybody else at one time or the other. Almost like a soap opera. She couldn't help but notice that when the movie was over, he was reluctant to stand up. When he did, he used a lame excuse about reading an article in the ladies home journal magazine and, holding the magazine in front of him, went up to bed.

She could hear him rummaging in the bathroom and tried to envision him nude, with a hard on. It only added to her aroused state. When she heard him passing by in the hall, she called out "Roger, is everything okay?"

"Fine, everything's fine. Er, may I come in?"

"I guess so, but I'm in bed."

When he came in, she could see that he had pajamas on underneath his robe. His hair was wet as if he had just showered and he smelled of after shave. He sat on the edge of the bed and said, "I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you taking me into your home. Since my divorce ten years ago I just haven't had any home life at all. This has been the most pleasant three weeks I've had for a long time."

When she reached out to touch his hand as a gesture of thanks, it was as if she had touched an electrically energized source. The surge that ran through her caused her to gasp. She knew that he felt it because he had a quick intake of breath and his body stiffened. Without another word, he leaned forward and kissed her.

"Come, get into bed with me," she said as she raised the covers. He quickly kicked off his slippers, dropped his robe and nestled alongside of her. They laid face to face and he kissed her again, this time tentatively offering his tongue, which she took readily. Through the thickness of her flannel night gown and his pajamas she could feel his erection poking against her leg.

His hand was the softness thing she could imagine as it brushed her rock hard nipples through the flannel of her gown. She let her own hand stray down to feel the wondrous implement that was resting against her leg. She freed it from its prison by undoing the waistband of his pajamas. She had forgotten how smooth and nice an erect penis felt in her hand. Without regard to the chill October weather, she threw the covers back so she could see it by the moonlight filtering through the window.

Roger stepped out of bed, took off his pajama top and stepped out of the bottom which had fallen to his ankles. When he slid her night gown up she helped him to remove it by arching her back and eventually pulling it off over her head. He got back into bed and buried his face in her breasts, her left nipple firmly implanted in his mouth. She hugged his head to her, inhaling the erotic scent of his after shave as he suckled like a child.

She didn't know how aroused she was until his hand came in contact with the flood of moisture that was emanating from within her. The feeling of rapture that overtook her when he slid himself into her was indescribable. He appeared to be a master, with long, slow strokes that brought her to the pinnacle of satisfaction. His penis sliding in and out, rubbing against her clitoris on every stroke held her on the verge of orgasm for what seemed like hours but in truth was only minutes.

When the climax finally overtook her, it released three years of pent up passion. He continued his movements, slowly building towards his own, ultimate, sexual release. She had a second orgasm about the time he came.

Later that night he introduced her to the joy of cunnilingus and taught her the art of fellatio, something she and her husband had never done and she had only read about. She couldn't believe that, all these years, she had missed the experience of a tongue licking and sucking her clitoris. The taste of pre-come and the full feeling of the head of his penis and her mouth was a wonderful prelude to copulation.

And copulate they did, often.

Authors note; This piece was inspired by an old Irish Limerick.

There was a woman from Cape Cod,
Who thought everything was an act of God,
But it wasn't the almighty,
Who raised up her nightly,
It was Roger, the lodger, by God!