The Houseguest

She woke with a start.

Disoriented, her brain clumsily exited the dream she was enjoying. One eye glanced at the clock on the bedside table, her brain dimly registering that the alarm was set to go off in a few minutes. She sat up on her elbow trying to recover the scene that was playing out in her brain. It was erotic, some kind of lovemaking. Warmth. Pleasure.

"Ugh"

She laid back down, frustrated to have lost the moment. She frowned. Her hand slipped between her legs and found wetness, puffiness, sensitivity. Shit. That must have been a hell of a dream. She stole a quick glance at the clock, calculating if she had enough time to fit in an orgasm.

"Ugh"

There was a houseguest, and he would be awake soon. A visitor from another country, a friend she had made online, here solo looking for a free place to crash. She needed to be the doting host of course. Breakfast, coffee, whatever he wanted. But she had to shower, get ready for work, and, she needed to visit the camp chair before anyone else was up.

She got out of bed and threw on her dressing gown, padding barefoot down the hall to the bathroom. Her eyes were still dull and sleepy as she sat on the toilet and peed, her mind grasping at the threads of her dream. Whatever it was, it must have been damn good.

Down to the kitchen, she rummaged to the bottom of her purse to find her cigarettes. She briefly considered wearing something more substantial than her flimsy gown, but it was hot out, and it was early. Satisfied that no one would see or care, she walked out onto the backyard grass and headed to the shed.

The camp chair visit was her morning ritual. In the shed, tucked away from direct view of the house, she had her morning cigarette. She termed it her "dirty little secret", and although she was sure her kids knew exactly what she did there each morning, she didn't want to flaunt it right in front of them. Getting up early, hiding in her little oasis and enjoying her love-hate relationship once a morning was a choice, and quite honestly one she looked forward to.

She sat down on the chair and adjusted her dressing gown, feeling a tinge of naughty as she felt the fabric brush against her bare nipples. She pulled a cigarette out of the package, lazily lifted it to her lips, lighting it and sucking in. The familiar warm rush flooded over her as the nicotine surged into her bloodstream. The sudden intake of oxygen and cigarette smoke, as it always did, overtook her senses as she filled her lungs. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and slowly exhaled, luxuriating in the pleasure it brought.

Meanwhile the houseguest was just finishing his run. No matter where he traveled or for what reason, and no matter the time zone or the time change, the early morning run was his way of resetting his body clock and mentally orienting himself to his new location. Although the locals probably didn't think so, it was stinking hot at this hour of the morning. He was soaked with sweat, and needed to shower. His host had given him a key to the back door so as he was headed inside his peripheral vision caught a bit of movement over by the shed.

"Allison?"

She nearly had heart failure. The combination of early morning, the pleasure of her smoke, and the residual nagging of that hot dream she had, left her in a state of distraction that wasn't expecting an intrusion. Her startled response resulted in her reflexively, and not very effectively, hiding her cigarette as she suddenly sat up. Flushed, surprised, and embarrassed, she saw her guest approaching the window of the shed. He looked in, smiling.

"Allison. Sorry for scaring you"

He stood for a moment at the window, then walked into the shed. She laughed softly, trying not to look so much like a teenager caught smoking behind the garage. She explained her little habit and ritual and he in turn assured her that he didn't mean to intrude. But he made no move to leave, standing in his shorts and t-shirt, sweating, breathing hard.

She took another drag from her cigarette, somewhat self-consciously perhaps, as he proceeded to share details about his run, where he got lost and what he saw. She wasn't really fully paying attention. With the shock of his appearance she suddenly became aware of how little she was wearing and how exposed she was feeling. He would have had to be blind not to notice his gorgeous host with her black hair, full breasts and lovely curves and legs sitting under a thin gown right in front of him.

She shifted uneasily in the chair, trying not to be obvious about covering herself up a bit more. His eyes drifted down to her one hand poised in a futile attempt to tug her dressing gown back over her legs, and then to the other hand as she lifted the cigarette to her mouth. She inhaled the next drag, savoring the smoke just a second, before exhaling slowly. He seemed, interestingly, to be watching her every move. Her eyes, her hands, and her gown for sure. She flushed slightly, that teenager-been-caught feeling again, shifting uneasily, but this time in response to her own body stirring.

He kept going on about his run (does he never stop talking about running?) but she was suddenly lost in the moment. He looks good, standing there in his tight running shorts. She watched him closely, as he in turn watched her as she enjoyed her morning smoke. He was not just hanging around to be polite, he was very obviously watching her. Smoking. In nothing but a flimsy gown.

As he continued to watch, she took another slow, easy drag of her cigarette. The smoke didn't seem to bother him, even being a healthy runner and all, and it certainly didn't stop him from going on about all he saw that morning (seriously, does he ever stop talking about running?). She realized at that moment that she could smell him. Not the acrid, awful body odor from exercise. This was a subtle leftover of his cologne from the night before, she was sure she remembered it. And something else, something musky from the exercise. As she pursed her lips over her cigarette once again, their eyes met for a nanosecond before they both looked awkwardly away.

Her gaze drifted down. For 50, he was pretty fit, a runner's physique for sure. His legs were tight and muscular. His butt would be something else, if he would just face the other way. His tight shorts seemed to be having trouble containing his assets. She gazed intently, realizing maybe he was a little aroused, did he have an erec --

"Allison?"

There was dead silence for a few seconds as she realized what had just happened. Her mouth was sort of gaping open, as she lifted her eyes up from his waist, to meet his gaze. She flushed, realizing she had been caught staring at him. And worse, something in her brain said he had actually stopped talking quite a few seconds ago. She nervously babbled an apology about having lost her train of thought. Averting her eyes, she took the last drag of her cigarette and stubbed it out while he continued to watch.

"Coffee!" she offered.

She laughed nervously. He laughed nervously. She jumped up from the chair and again somewhat too self-consciously adjusted her dressing gown. Her legs wobbled a bit and she felt light headed. Probably the cigarette, she thought, that's what happens with only one or two a day.

----

The rest of her day was a bit of a blur. She kept returning to the exchange with her guest in the shed, telling herself it was nothing. She was just startled, and overtired. He wasn't aroused, his shorts were just tight, all runners have tight shorts. Ridiculous. She scolded herself for reading more into it than there was.

She ordered chinese takeout that night while her guest happily paid for the beer. The whole evening seemed awkward though. Again, she dismissed it, she was making things up.

----

Holy shit. He had no idea what had happened in the shed. But she was so sexy, her black hair, her gorgeous body, smoking like that, and in a flimsy gown he could practically see through. Did she notice that he got hard? No, she didn't, he was sure of it. But she was so flustered, blushing. Ridiculous. "I'm 50, not 15". He scolded himself for reading more into it than there was.

His host ordered chinese takeout that night while he happily paid for the beer. The whole evening seemed awkward though. Again, he dismissed it, he was making things up.

----

Another hot, humid, early morning. She wandered to the camp chair and settled down for her morning smoke. Each time she did this, the singular naughty joy she was experiencing made her body shiver. She lit her cigarette and sucked her cheeks in hard, to better appreciate that first rush of pleasure. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, her body's need having been sated.

"Good morning"

Heart failure. Again. What the fuck? Her guest was standing at the window of the shed. She was again in just her dressing gown, completely naked underneath. If she had expected to see him a second time, she would have worn something more substantial, for sure.

As she recovered her senses from the scare, she looked at him, a bit puzzled: "You, uh, aren't sweating".

Seems he hadn't gone for his run yet, he had just stopped by to say hi. He proceeded to walk into the shed and lean against the wall, watching her intently. He appeared to not be in any rush, had nowhere to go. He wore his running clothes and his tight shorts, so he definitely planned to be out later. But right now, he just silently stood in front of her.

With the rather distinct feeling of being watched, she brought the cigarette to her mouth again. Slow, languid, purposeful. She inhaled slowly, then exhaled, very aware of his eyes on her. She looked up at him and smiled. Thinking of nothing to say, she remained silent. His gaze held, uncomfortably, as she raised her fingers to her lips again and pulled deep, holding the cigarette smoke in her mouth for a couple of seconds longer, before exhaling long, slow, and easy.

Her mind was racing, trying to decode was going on. Something sensual was happening; this steady and relaxed curiosity about how she was smoking her cigarette was not normal. He seemed enticed by this, and it was showing in his body language, how his eyes moved, how he adjusted his stance, how his expression changed. His shorts were a little too tight to hide just how much he was enjoying it. She was certain he was developing a hard-on, and even more certain that it didn't really matter to him that she could see it so plainly.

The aggregate of all this tension, this watching, this silence was turning her on and stirring up her own body and mind. An older man looking at her as a sensual woman for whatever reason, was tantalizing. The fact she was bloody naked under her gown was probably helping the sensuality of the moment. Every shift of her hands, even accidentally, moved her gown across her nipples, and at every crossing and uncrossing of her legs the gown slid a little to expose more bare skin. She was pretty sure she felt some moisture between her legs. He heart was beating quicker, her senses on full alert.

The slow, casual smoke continued. He was talking about something again, the weather maybe, but his patient, calm eyes held on her. Occasionally he drifted down to take in her shapely form under the gown, but they returned each time to the activity of her smoking her cigarette. She was aware suddenly that her nipples were very erect, and sticking right through the thin gown fabric. There was nothing she could do about it, no motion to distract. He was clearly enjoying the scene - a lovely woman having a sexy smoke, in a thin gown, leaving little to the imagination of what was underneath.

The moment, the attention being lavished on her, was having an effect on more than just her senses, it was motivating her to play a little. She started making her actions more purposeful, more languid, more... fluid. She showed off, taking a drag, and snapping the smoke back, before exhaling it out. His pupils dilated, his breathing changed, he adjusted his position as he stood. She was putting on a show and he was enjoying it, that much seemed clear.

The reality was that it had been some time since she had a hard cock at her disposal. Watching him, watch her, was reminding her of the pleasure of having a man with a purpose. She caught herself, like the day before, staring at his crotch, imagining what was underneath. Imagining that hard cock in her hand, her mouth, her pussy, her ass. It was all a bit intoxicating, all the thoughts rushing at her at once.

Yet part of her remained skeptical that this was even happening. He was just a guest, not some Tinder hook up; a grown man, a professional, with a life beyond this visit. Maybe she was completely misunderstanding his interest, maybe this was all a mistake. If so, the size of his cock under the shorts was misleading her, and his eyes, and his lips, and... her heartbeat. Jesus Christ, she thought.

As she stubbed out her cigarette, she tried to replicate the casual announcement of the previous day "haha coffee!". It didn't work. Her mouth was dry, and the sound out of her vocal cords stopped short of finishing the second syllable.

"I haven't run yet, remember?"

Of course. She babbled something in return, and awkwardly got out of her camp chair. Her gown slid open, and she was pretty sure she flashed her boobs to him. Great. More awkward, on top of the already WTF awkward of her smoking in front of him. They stood in front of each other like two teenagers trying not to look weird. She invited him to have coffee when his run was over. He said he would love it. The only thing missing from the stilted formality was a fucking handshake. Clearly some chemistry had been ignited, and two people were trying to figure it out.

********

She spent the day in a daze. Today there was no question something sexual had happened between them. She was not really sure what to do. This isn't like the stories in magazines or the plots for porn movies where people just "hook up". They were normal adults, with kids, jobs, and lives. Acting like teens in heat was not quite what she expected when she agreed to have him visit.

Dinner was awkward, like high school geeks trying to act like they could socialize. The kids did all the talking, the adults just picked at their food. She was a little wet, just being in the same room as him. She barely slept a wink that night.

*********

She was turning him on beyond words. Her body, her sensuality, and her sexuality, just sitting there naked in a gown and smoking a cigarette put him over the edge. He wasn't sure, at all, what to do next. He was almost convinced she was feeling like he was, yet he scolded himself for acting like a teenager.

Dinner was awkward, like high school geeks trying to act like they could socialize. The kids did all the talking, the adults just picked at their food. He was a little hard, just being in the same room as her. He barely slept a wink that night.

********

Another early trip out to the shed. She wandered to the camp chair and settled down for her morning smoke. Today, however, there was something different. There was another camp chair facing hers. She didn't own another camp chair.

Confusion.

Then her guest walked into the shed, said good morning, and sat down in front of her. At first she thought he was dressed for a run, but on closer inspection something was different. Loose shirt, loose shorts, and an entirely different look in his eyes.

His gaze met hers for a few silent seconds. Her heart raced. But she knew exactly what he was there for. She reached down for a cigarette. Her hand trembled imperceptibly as she lifted the long white cylinder to her mouth, pursed her lips, and lit it. She drew in a lovely breath of luscious smoke, held it, and exhaled.

He sat in the chair opposite her, and watched patiently as she smoked. She proceeded slowly, agonizingly so, relishing the experience of being lavished such attention. As she enjoyed her cigarette, she relaxed, as the deep breathing, the satiation of her habit, and the rush of oxygen in her body took hold.

As she took her third, slow, sensual drag, she watched wide-eyed as he inched his shorts down to expose the head of his hard cock. Her breath caught in her mouth at the sight, interrupting her exhale. She looked him in the eyes and saw only lust. She had no plans to object.

The game was afoot.

She was wearing the same flimsy robe as the previous two mornings, but unlike earlier attempts to keep covering herself up, she let the slippery fabric slide away this time. Her breasts, luscious 36D, remained partially covered but the fabric slipping down gave a remarkable view of her astounding curves. The legs, those gorgeous legs, became more exposed as the fabric gave way. And. She. Didn't. Fucking. Care.

She stared straight at him, now most definitely turned on, and took another drag of her cigarette. She snapped the smoke into her mouth, then slowly, lazily let it out through pursed lips. He watched the whole scene, as he slid the seam of his shorts down further to give a broader view of his solid member. She stared at his hard cock, and made it clear she was enjoying her show, as much as he was enjoying his.

She wet her lips absently, heart pounding so loud she thought it could wake the neighbors. She took another drag on her cigarette and let the smoke ease out gently as she preoccupied herself with watching her suitor. Her free hand had drifted down as she parted her legs slightly, sliding aside the fabric from her gown so that she could explore her arousal. As she continued her smoking show, her fingers separated her wet pussy lips, exposing herself to him in return.

He had pulled his shorts down to fully expose his cock and balls now. Fully erect, with dobs of precum showing, he lightly stroked his member as he stared straight at her. Not exclusively at her luscious breasts, nor her exposed and glistening pussy. At her eyes. He was staring straight into her eyes and transferring his lust directly to her. She was lost in her own mind, trying to remember to smoke, so turned on that she could barely think straight.

As she finished the last drag and stubbed it out beside her camp chair, her robe gave way again, totally exposing her left nipple. She looked at him in silence, blowing the last of the smoke over her head.

"Have another" he said.

"No" she replied. She had a counter offer: "Fuck me"

He gawked at her for a beat. Reading his mind, she said "stay in the shed, no one should be able to see us". He didn't need to be asked twice. He got up out of the chair, leaned over and kissed her, hard. His tongue explored hers while his hands explored her lovely breasts. While he stood, bending over, kissing her and squeezing her tits, she pulled down his shorts fully, allowing him to step out.

He knelt in front of her and latched his mouth onto her left nipple, sucking hard while his fingers squeezed the luscious flesh, his left hand pleasuring the other side. Her nipples stood fully erect, one being sucked, one being twisted. He concentrated on this tease for what seemed like forever, switching boobs from time to time, as she squirmed under the attention. Occasionally he leaned up and kissed her mouth, her neck and her shoulder.

Her body was electric. His persistent mouth and fingers on her tits were teasing her over the edge. Her clit was engorged and her pussy drenched, but she had no relief from him as he was entirely focused on the rest of her. She spread her legs as best she could, still sitting in the camp chair, trying to encourage him. Dipping two fingers in her sopping pussy, she dabbed her wetness on his cheek.

That was all the encouragement he needed. She sat closer to the edge of the chair while he moved his mouth down to her pussy and started lapping up her juices. Gentle brushes of his tongue from the bottom of her soaked pussy to the top. Around her clit, and then back down again. He tongue-fucked her, entering her warm wetness until his mouth and lips were almost entirely inside her, his nose brushing against her pubic hair and her clit. As she gasped, he persisted his tongue action a little longer. He circled her clit, he sucked her clit in his mouth, he sucked her pussy into his mouth. His attack on all of her senses, his insistence on switching his delivery before she could start to truly enjoy it was driving her batshit crazy with desire.