Sleepover Guest

I've always been proud of our hospitality. When my wife and I scraped up the money to buy our own home, I insisted we have a spare bedroom for guests. We live in a relatively affordable corner of an expensive city that draws tourists and businessmen alike, and I knew that room would always be used. And so indeed, over the past four years we have been lucky to reunite with college and childhood friends who have come to the city for one reason or another.

So naturally, when Sharon asked me if we could host one of her Sorority Sisters for a month during August I agreed. True, most guests stayed for a week, ten days -- two weeks at the most. But Carol had some family and business obligations all around the same time and was going to be in the area for four weeks. Sharon seemed a bit nervous, asking me. Was it too much of an imposition? But I assured her the time would fly and that we would at least have the benefit of a free babysitter.

Carol arrived on a wet, wet afternoon. She had not anticipated the downpour and came into the house sloshing about in her shoes, peering out through matted wet hair, and dripping water all over the place. Tracy, our 6 year old daughter couldn't stop pointing and giggling, until Carol flicked water at her. They became instant friends.

Carol changed into some casual, dry, house clothes and warmed up. The whole house seemed to warm up. Tracy sat on her lap and Sharon and Carol caught up for hours, first over coffee, later over wine.

I work out of the house and had to excuse myself to complete a project. Later I put Tracy to bed, and then myself. I think the two "sisters" chatted away until three in the morning.

Sometime around ten the next day I heard Carol get up. She waddled into the kitchen and I made us coffee. She laughed at how talking about old times made her feel young again. Frankly, I don't know why she would feel old. She's trim and fit with a beautiful body. Her baby face and blue-green eyes would allow her to pass for a 22 year old. With her auburn hair pulled back and a stray strand framing her face, she looked even childish.

As I fussed about with dishes and cereal, I couldn't help but sneak a peak at her tanned legs. She wore a nightshirt with, it seemed, nothing underneath. I was beside myself with voyeuristic curiosity, but the shirt was flannel and opaque. Still her heavy breasts swayed in such a way as to belie the lack of a bra, and the hem rose up a few times to let me glimpse her upper thigh. I spent the entire conversation coaching myself not to look down her front.

This became somewhat of a routine for us. Sharon and I would wake up early as usual and share a quick breakfast before my wife ran to catch her bus. I'd get Tracy off to school and then answer my emails. Around 10:00 Carol would rise, share coffee with me and then prepare to go to her meetings which never began before 1:00pm.

"I'm not a morning person," she explained.

I rapidly became familiar with Carol's bedclothes. She had the flannel nightshirt she'd worn the first day, but also had a sheer nighty. Once she came to the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel. When I commented about her varied wardrobe she simply answered: "Well, I sleep naked, so it's whatever I grab on the way out."

My imagination was in overdrive. Carol would talk on an on about her meetings or what she and Sharon used to be like in college; but I was drawing the curve of her breast in my mind, painting her nipples in my imagination and fantasizing about tiny little goose bumps on the rise of her tan derrière. Several times Carol caught me staring, or fading out from conversation, not chiming in with an appropriate response. Once she came right out and asked: "should I put something on?"

"Sorry," I blushed, "maybe you should." She was wearing the thin nighty that morning and her breasts were silhouetted against the sun coming through the window. She looked at me for a long time after that, and then just smiled.

Following our coffee conversation, I would return to my office nook where the computer sat buried behind overflowing papers and Carol would take a shower. Needless to say, I couldn't get much work done as I heard the water running and imagined her hands caressing her body. Suddenly the thought hit me as I stared blankly at my computer screen: why had I never thought to put a camera in the guest shower? Of course, as soon as the thought arose, I bashed it down again with no small amount of self recrimination. The thoughts were there, but I had to keep myself in check.

The day after Carol caught me staring, she wore the flannel shirt. I relaxed somewhat and was attentive enough to help her develop a strategy for a meeting she had that afternoon. When she returned home jubilant, I realized our strategy was a success, and merited a big hug and kiss. She told me all about the meeting and would have run on and on excitedly, but I had work to do before Tracy came home and excused myself.

Seated in front of my computer, I did not at first recognize the sounds coming from the guest room. Soon though, the moans and groans of a woman in ecstasy came wafting down the hallway and I could not think. As sure as I was that I was hearing a woman near orgasm, I couldn't believe Carol would expose herself so openly, and half wondered if everything was okay. I tiptoed down the hall and saw that the door to her room was ajar. The latch there never caught unless you really pushed the door closed, and the door was open just a crack. The crack was enough for me to catch motion in the mirror over the dresser. I could see her knees swinging back and forth and it was clear she was on her back and masturbating. Just before turning away, I caught sight of her hand coming up between her legs, pulling with it a large purple dildo of slick translucent silicone. I turned and ran.

Our evenings were pleasant together. Carol and Sharon did all the chores while chatting and I was free to do as I pleased. With Tracy in bed, we would watch a movie or drink wine and chitchat. Whatever we did, it was in the living room, on the sofas, in our pajamas. When Carol showed up on the couch in her sheer nighty, I couldn't help but remember her moans of ecstasy. Sharon didn't think any thing of Carol's choice of bedclothes. If anything, she'd prod me, saying "doesn't Carol look lovely?" Apparently much of their conversation had been on the subject of Carol's still being single. Sharon was certain Carol suffered from low self esteem. I wasn't so sure.

One of my favorite action movies came on the tube and I was fairly engrossed. Sharon and Carol were pouring over some photo albums and I barely noticed them. At one point, however, I looked up long enough to realize I was staring straight at Carol's crotch. She had been sitting cross-legged on the sofa most of the evening, and her nighty must have gotten pushed up a bit. When she leaned forward and put her feet on the floor, her knees were apart and I got a clear view of her pussy. The image burned itself into my consciousness. She was shaved, and had a ring in her clit.

The same situation occurred the next night. Only this time Carol caught me looking and smiled at me. She smiled and then shifted her legs, giving me a much clearer view for a split second before covering up. Sharon gave no sign of having noticed and probably wondered why I fucked her with such vigor that night. Ironically, she protested our coitus a bit for fear that Carol might hear something. If only she could hear the masturbation sessions I was privy to almost every afternoon now.

Carol was clearly raising the ante. She came to coffee the next morning in a towel and made no effort to cross her legs or hide her sex. I wanted to say something, but was tongue-tied. Later that morning when she showered she called me in to help her fix the drain that had stopped up. She barely covered her private parts with her hands while I examined the stoppage and removed the face towel. Carol laughed and just said, "I can't see anything without my contacts."

"Well, I can see everything... almost." I retorted, making my first open comment about her frisky flirtations.

Carol just laughed, moved her hands away from her body and gave a shrug, almost insinuating "come-and-get-me." I turned and went back to my computer. I'd be lying if I told you I got any work done. I closed the door, turned to a porn site, and jerked all my sexual frustration out onto the keyboard.

Sharon came home, the evening went forward as usual, and we found ourselves on the sofa again drinking wine and chatting away. Carol was finding new and inventive ways to show me a tit or flash me her pussy without Sharon catching on. There were also some physical moves: Cheek-kisses that lasted half a beat too long, fingers stroking hands when glasses or plates were exchanged, too-friendly hands on my back when water was being poured or plates cleared.

That night I accosted Sharon. She came into our room wrapped in a towel after showering and I just grabbed her from behind. I kissed her neck and rubbed her shoulders until the wrap fell to the floor and I could grab some tit. Sharon's sensitive nipples perked up between my thumb and forefinger as my right hand rubbed circles on her belly. Slowly her head fell back on my shoulder and my hand reached down between her legs.

My first swipe across her clit brought a moan to her lips and she bit down hard to muffle herself.

"Don't hold back," I ordered, pressing hard into her erogenous zones.

"But... Carol...next room..."

"I want her to hear it. I want her to hear it loud."

I had just managed to curl a finger into Sharon's cunt when she pulled away.

"No!" she whisper-screamed, facing me and putting her hand on her knees. She was bending over in a funny position and raising her eyebrows in such an exaggerated manner that I had to laugh. Sharon caught onto my laughter and giggled herself, and we both sat down naked on the edge of the bed.

"Carol hasn't had a boyfriend in months and I don't want her jealous of our love-making."

"Sharon, Carol has been masturbating out loud every afternoon after her meetings and distracting me with all sorts of flashes and flirtations."

"I noticed."

"You did?!" I was genuinely surprised and reminded myself never to try and put one past a woman.

"Yeah, she's been pretty obvious the last few evenings. Did she ask you to fuck her?"

"Not in so many words, but she called me in to fix something in the shower and didn't bother to cover up."

"Slut."

We sat there for a few moments letting Sharon's verdict hang in the air. I didn't know what to say, and pretty soon Sharon just continued.

"When we were in college we used to have a game of stealing each other's boyfriends. It started when I caught her sucking my date for an evening, and trying to make it better by offering me hers. I guess I should have figured that my husband would make an attractive catch for her."

She was silent for a while and I tried prodding her on.

"What do I do now? I'm in the house alone with her for hours at a time."

"And she gets you horny?"

"I jerked off at the computer today."

"And you wanted to fuck me in front of her now!"

"Well, at least have her hear us."

"Kinky!"

Married couples develop code words over time. Certain phrases take on added meaning based on an earlier event or context. Between Sharon and I the term "kinky" had come to take on the added meaning of "go for it." While young and restless and traveling Asia, we found ourselves fucking in some most unusual places. We belong to the mile high club. We fucked in an elevator and got caught fucking in the kitchen of a youth hostel in Athens. The cook threatened to kick us onto the streets if we didn't continue fucking for his pleasure. I felt queasy watching him pull out his dick as he eyeballed my naked girlfriend, and wasn't sure how best to protect her honor. When I looked to Sharon for a clue, she just said, "kinky". From that day on "kinky" meant go for it.

And with "kinky" declared, Sharon began sucking my dick as I sat on the bed and reminisced about that old Greek chef ejaculating on the floor watching Sharon's pert breasts bounce above my head.

Sharon had simply leaned over to begin sucking me, but once my cock stiffened, she dropped to her knees and took on what we called the worshiping position. Holding my balls and shaft reverently between clasped hands, she bent her knees before me and began bobbing her head on my cock. Eventually she was able to get my full eight inches down her throat. I'm a quiet fuck, enjoying my wife's ministrations silently. She doesn't need any coaching to know she's doing a good job. Nevertheless, I did my best to try and make some noise, growling and vocalizing a few "oh yeses" and "that's it babies."

Sharon laughed at my amateurish efforts and prepared to show me how it was done. Standing up from before my turgid cock, she came up onto the bed with her knees to either side of me. Briefly, she hovered over my cock-head and lowered herself onto me. Her cunt was slick with natural lubrication and she lowered herself slowly and smoothly upon me.

"Oh YEAH!" She shrieked, and I began to fear that Tracy would wake up. "Oh YEAH! Oh GOD! I LOVE IT!" And that was just from sliding slowly up and down my shaft a few times.

"Now SUCK ME SAILOR!" She commanded (the expression as new to me as it is no doubt strange to you), and she moved herself up so that she was sitting on my face.

I let my tongue explore her outer and inner lips, coming close to but as yet skipping over her clitoris. "SUCK ME! OH YES! Oh baby, don't be shy, lick my pussy, lick my pussy, lick my pussy. Oh yeah, that's it, THAT'S IT, CLOSER! CLOSER NOW! OH FUCK! OH YES!" And the expletives went on.

Sharon climaxed on top of my face and then rolled over onto her back. I was primed to make short work of this fuck, and if I hadn't jerked off earlier, I'd probably have cum already. My cock was rigid and slid right into her moist valley. I stood on the floor and pulled Sharon's legs up to my chest. Then I began pounding into her hips and making her scream. The vocal onslaught from the cunnilingus paled in comparison as Sharon threw her head back, opened her throat and let me bang the wind out of her. She played with her breasts as I held her knees and fucked her hard and she climaxed at least twice before I filled her cunt with sperm.

"If Carol didn't hear that," She said as I fell next to her exhausted, "she's deaf."

I hadn't the strength left to reply and even dozed of for a minute or two, as suddenly Sharon wasn't in the room with me anymore. Pulling myself up I saw her come back into the room wearing a robe.

"Tracy's still asleep."

"Let's try and get some for ourselves." I said smiling and rolled over to my side and fell into a deep repose.

The following morning went like clockwork. Only at about 9:30 did I have time to wonder if our midnight antics last night would affect my morning coffee date. At 9:45 Sharon called from work.

"I forgot to tell you something."

"What."

"Is Carol up yet?"

"Not that I've seen or heard."

"Anyway I was thinking."

"Yeah?"

"If she comes onto you again?"

"Yeah?"

"Just fuck her."

"What?!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"If you want to, that is. I just don't want you distracted by her too much. She's leaving in just over two weeks, and she's sexy, and she's a old friend, so what the hell?"

"I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything, and don't make the first move, but if she has the gall to come on to my husband, than so be it, but I don't want you or I to have to suffer."

"Well, let's just say I'll keep you posted."

"Okay, and who knows, maybe you'll enjoy the attention of two beautiful women in front of the TV tonight."

"Kinky." Was all I could say, and I could hear Sharon smiling on the other end of the line.

"Nice fuck last night!" Carol announced as she came in for coffee. If I thought that yesterday's events would go unmentioned, I was wrong.

"It was indeed." I said smiling, only adding: "Here's you coffee. Did we keep you up?"

"I'm pretty sure you woke the neighborhood!" Carol laughed and began sipping her coffee. She was wearing the flannel night shirt and seemed to have gotten the message to stand back.

"Was that your response to my afternoon self-loving?" She commented just as I was turning to the Sports section.

"Well, it was Sharon's. Mine was the raging hard on she took care of."

Carol giggled and had to put her coffee down.

She might have spilled some on her gown or something, but Carol quietly exited the room and I began gathering dishes.

"Did I leave my purse in here?" Carol asked as she strode into the room with no clothes on. I was too dumbstruck to answer. "Oh, there it is!" She declared, picked up the purse and strode away, stopping only momentarily to sashay her ass for me.

Later that evening back on the couch, Sharon was more openly friendly with me than we had been before. Perhaps this was because Carol had found a tiny little teddy to wear which barely hid anything. I wore a t-shirt and boxers, but with Sharon stroking my thigh and then directly stroking my cock, I was soon on full display.

Oddly, nobody was addressing the situation. I continued to watch TV. Sharon stroked my cock softly but continued to discuss Carol's social life while Carol began tweaking her own nipples and rubbing the crotch of her teddy.

"Nice cock you got there, buddy." Carol announced.

"Carol," Sharon scolded. "Mind your own business."

"Honey," She turned to me," I think you should hide that someplace. Come with me." And she pulled me off the sofa and began pushing my back in the direction of our bedroom. I was really enjoying this situation as I was constantly aroused and getting great sex from my wife. The weird tension between Carol and Sharon seemed like a harmless game and I was happy to be the pawn. I could not have anticipated what happened next. Instead of pushing me to our room, Sharon directed me to the other side of the couch. There, she leaned over, raised the hem of her nightgown and told me to bury my cock in her cunt.

"Hide it in here," were her words.

Happy to do so, but a bit confused, I complied. Sharon and Carol, meanwhile continued their conversation about one of the Sorority sisters who'd been divorced twice already. As I got into a steady rhythm pumping into Sharon, my eyes returned to the TV set and I continued watching my program. The scene was surreal.

"I have an idea!" Sharon announced all of a sudden. "Maybe if you fuck my ass, you'll cum more quickly and your boner will subside."

I love anal sex, and Sharon enjoys it too if done right. It took us a lot of time together to get our anal technique down and it usually involves a lot of lubrication and patience. This time, though, Sharon just reached behind her and moved my dick from her cunt to her anus. I did my best to salivate and add some fluid to our penetration, but by and large, Sharon took me into her ass bareback and dry.

The conversation between Sharon and Carol was now over as Sharon grimaced her way through a series of climaxes and I filled her bowels with sperm. Carol, too, had abandoned her nipples for some all out pussy pushing and openly masturbated herself to several orgasms. When it was over, we were all naked and covered in sweat. Sharon ran to the toilet to shit or pee or whatever it was she had to do after I'd violated her asshole. Carol and I began straightening up. She seemed sad.

"You're so beautiful and sexy, Carol" I said, for no reason in particular. But I meant it.

She smiled at me and simply said, "Thanks." Then with her night-clothes in hand she stopped next to me on her way to her room. She put a hand on my limp dick and whispered in my ear, "I would really love to fuck you. I've already tasted your cum, and it's delicious." And with that she went on into her room, leaving me to turn off the TV.