Lisbeth had invited me to stay with her and her husband while my apartment was undergoing renovation. She and I had worked together for several years and I had been to several of her family barbeques during that time. Her husband and I got along great and I counted him among my casual friends. But Lisbeth and I saw each other daily and though we were colleagues we had become remarkably close friends. So close that I had a daily fantasy of fucking her. I had lost count about how many times I had done so and I was careful to never cross the line in revealing those fantasies to her.
This fantasy-life of mine was problematic when Lisbeth invited me to stay at her place. I admit to being torn. I live alone, except for my ancient dog who I had to put in a kennel for the week during renovations. Sharing space had never been comfortable for me. Worse, being around Lisbeth during casual nights at her home was going to be challenging. I didn’t know if I could avoid trying to see her naked or watch her fuck her husband while I stayed there. Worse, I didn’t know if I could resist trying to fuck her myself while there. It was all too tempting and seeing her both at work and her home might cause an embarrassing sexual rendezvous attempt that I would later regret. I needed to stay away. I knew better than to stay with her. But when I couldn’t find a place to stay within my price range, I had no choice but to stay with Lisbeth and her husband. I would try to stay away from her. I would have to work hard not to let her husband see me ogling over the perfect curves of her body, the perfect thickness of her lips or the heart-stopping color of blue shone in her eyes.
“Oh my god, it will be so much fun!” Lisbeth squealed when I finally agreed to stay with her for the week. I just smiled fighting the urge to wrap her in my arms and press my mouth against hers. And why today, of all days, did she have to wear that damn white mini-dress; the one with the orange flowers on it that cut perfectly along her breasts and sat flawlessly on her hips? I diverted my eyes and said, “Yes, it will be so much fun,” with my teeth biting my lower lip. I wondered if this would be the most impossible week of my life.
Three nights had gone by and I had managed to keep some distance between myself and Lisbeth while at her home. I worried that she thought I was an alcoholic because I decided to go to a nearby tavern every night after supper to get crocked and pass out in bed so I wouldn’t want to see her, need to see her. On the fourth night, however, my luck ran out. When I stumbled into the house, I noticed Lisbeth’s panties laying in the hallway leading to her bedroom. My bedroom was in the basement and I had dutifully gone straight there every night that week, except this time. This time her panties lit up like a beacon, like a siren drawing me to my doom. I quietly walked toward the hallway where her panties lay crumpled on the floor. At the end of the hall, I could see a blue light flickering through a slit in the bedroom doorway. I hesitated. I listened. The rain of a shower was all I could hear. I eased my way on the carpeting toward the bedroom. My heart thumped in my chest and a voice in my head screamed for me to turn around and go downstairs! I had to look through. The voyeur in me had to see if I could catch the briefest of moments where Lisbeth was naked or, even better, getting laid by her husband. Along the edge of the wall, I crept.
Through the tiniest of cracks in the door, I saw Lisbeth’s husband sleeping under a sheet on the bed. The blue light flickered from the television. The shower was on in the bathroom, so I presumed that Lisbeth was cleaning up after fucking her husband while I was gone. My cock twitched. I wondered if I could sneak in for a glimpse of her perfect body. As I put my hand on the door handle, the shower went silent. I froze where I stood. I was certain my labored breathing would alert them to my presence. But he never moved in the bed and I started to back away. That’s when I saw the shadow on the wall. Lisbeth’s body was lit from behind and cast a shadow on the wall on the opposite side of the bedroom. I tried to see any sign of her curves. But all I could tell was that she was standing there, and she was drying her hair with her towel. I waited.
I heard her light footsteps on the carpet walking towards the bed. As though that moment had happened only for me, Lisbeth appeared. Naked, Lisbeth plopped down on the bed allowing my drunk eyes a full scan in the blue television light of her body. My cock sprang hard in my pants and I stopped myself from flinging the door wide open and sprinting to her bedside. Lisbeth sat up and leaned over her husband as though she was determining if he was asleep. Satisfied, she leaned back against her pillows, bent her knees, spread her thighs, and began rubbing her pussy. I don’t know how she didn’t hear me moan. I mean I’m certain it was audible. But she never stopped. Her athletically cut legs spread wide and I could see her heavy breasts slightly splayed towards each of her sides. Lisbeth’s beautiful eyes were closed, and I wondered what was going on in her mind. Who was she imagining? Was it possible she was fantasizing about fucking me in the basement? Or maybe she was fantasizing about me tonguing her pussy? Or, more likely, she was reliving whatever moment she and her husband had had before I got home from the bar. Within moments Lisbeth was biting her lip and quietly convulsing. She glanced quickly at her husband then closed her eyes to finish her climax. I impulsively held my cock through my pants. While she moved under her sheets after cumming, I quietly made my way to my bedroom in the basement where I promptly masturbated to the image of Lisbeth coming.
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J Maples Erotica 