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I awoke to complete darkness. So very dark, in fact, that I felt the need to find something, anything visible in the room just to let me know my eyes were still working. I rolled over and searched the void to find the glow of my cell phone charging in its dock, washing a green haze on the wall behind my dresser. The steady whisper of the window fan across the room was the only sound. I fumbled to find my watch on the nightstand — 3:10 — then sank back into the pillow and lay facing the ceiling for several minutes staring into the nothingness. My eyelids grew heavier and I was slowly drifting back towards sleep, when suddenly I heard her voice.
Her name was Julie, and she was an old friend of my ex-wife. Probably in her mid-thirties by now, and as I had learned just hours earlier, fairly recently divorced, Julie is about five and a half feet tall with a slender build. I never considered her to be a knock-out, but then she never seemed to concern herself with makeup and all of the beauty secrets that most knock-outs hide behind. In a word, I would call Julie cute. With warm brown eyes, and straight, sandy-blonde hair, she always seemed very natural in appearance and comfortable in her own skin. Her soft demeanor, slight physique, and bashful tendencies always made her seem more like a teenager than an adult, and I tended to think of her as attractive in an innocent, girlish sort of way. We never really hung out together as couples, but each time I saw her with my wife she seemed really sweet.
I honestly couldn’t remember her name when she arrived, suitcase in hand on my doorstep, late that prior afternoon. It had been more than three years since I last saw her, and it took me a minute to make the connection. Her hair was pulled into short pigtails at the time, making her identity a little less obvious to me. Her attire was also a far cry from Julie’s traditional skinny jeans and tree-hugging save-the-planet embossed shirts. The girl at my door was wearing (rather short) salmon-pink shorts, a plain tan-colored cotton tee, and white flip-flops. After a friendly “hey there, stranger” she moved forward and gave me a knowing hug and then asked if Diane was at home. Hearing her mention of Diane’s name jarred my memory — ah yes, Julie. I welcomed her inside and then broke the news of our marriage, telling her of Diane’s move out of state. Julie was clearly upset to learn of our divorce, but said she understood completely.
After our rather uncomfortable introduction, Julie told me she was in town to interview for a job, and had hoped to surprise Diane, and perhaps spend the night reliving some of the old days. She mentioned her embarrassment in learning that we were no longer together, especially considering that her own separation had finalized only months earlier. Julie was also uncomfortable with her obvious expectation of an overnight stay. She repeatedly apologized for the intrusion and after picking up her suitcase said something about finding a hotel room. But I was more than willing to help her out, and insisted that she was welcomed to use the guest room for the night. She finally relented, and for the first time in several months I had an overnight guest in the house.
I ordered out for pizza, and we sat in the den watching the ballgame with the sound turned down. Julie explained how she had gradually fallen out of touch with Diane after she left town years ago to follow her husband’s career. She also told me of the nearby position for which she was hoping to be hired, emphasizing the irony of Diane moving away just as she might be coming back.
Julie and I spent the rest of the evening getting caught up while finishing off a cheap bottle of wine a friend had recently given me for a birthday present. Noting that we suddenly seemed to be in the same boat, we spoke knowingly about life, love, divorce, and the unenviable challenge of starting over.
I hadn’t really talked so openly (or at such length) with a woman for a long time, and I have to admit, it felt good. Most of my conversations with Diane during the last years of our marriage were brief and uncaring. But Julie was remarkably easy to talk to, and I couldn’t help being drawn to her simple feminine charm. Although I had known about Julie for many years, I never really knew her, and suddenly I was enthralled. She wasn’t the shy, unassuming kid that I remembered. She seemed totally at ease in our conversation. Julie was engaging, interesting, and open – even when the subject of sex came around, and somehow it kept coming around.
We talked at length about being single again, and Julie mentioned the “empty bed syndrome” she had experienced since her separation. She joked about how she “probably forgot how, it had been so long”. I just laughed, and said I understood completely (boy, did I). Later, she casually joked that she and Diane had done “some really wild things together” years ago, but when pressed for details she refused to give me anything more. She asked if Diane ever mentioned how they had often shared secrets of our marriages, mobilbahis güvenilir mi even about our sex lives. I told her I was definitely surprised to hear of it, and that she suddenly seemed to have me at a disadvantage. She smiled broadly, and then with a seductive wink proclaimed that she had “learned a lot about me”. But again she refused to go into details.
Julie seemed to be totally enjoying herself, bouncing giddily on the sofa as she provoked me with innuendo, only to repeatedly stop short of any particulars. I found her playful teasing and girlish mannerisms adorable.
Julie became surprisingly relaxed and rather suggestive in her conversation as the wine disappeared. She pulled the bands from her pigtails, freeing her hair. As we talked she repeatedly twisted the short locks playfully around a finger, an apparent habit of comfort, or perhaps nervousness. Surprisingly, I found it to be a bit of a turn on, and I consciously wondered if she suspected as much. At one point in the exchange the steady dialog stalled into one of those uncomfortable pauses where no one says anything. We each made eye contact, and neither of us shied away. We just smiled that knowing smile at each other, and almost simultaneously drew another sip of our wine.
I could definitely feel an attraction between us, but I readily chalked it up to wishful thinking on my part – surely influenced by the combination of her wine consumption and my all-too-obvious loneliness. After all, I reminded myself, she didn’t come here to visit me.
Julie seemed to have a sort of accidental sexiness to her, as though maybe she didn’t think herself so. Somewhat flat-chested, and except for her long legs and tight bottom, she did not possess a magazine cover sexiness. And yet I found her wildly enticing. But in the moment of the conversation, despite my wine-enhanced seduction, I just couldn’t believe this darling “friend of the family”, so to speak, was seriously prompting any moves from me. And considering that I am probably at least a dozen years her senior, she seemed really young.
I simply played the role of charming host to the best of my ability, remaining attentive and listening with interest as she spoke mainly about herself. Not wanting to take advantage of the situation, I tried to converse gentlemanly, avoiding the obvious opportunities for come-on lines or sexual advances. I guess we’re all a little more respectful and deliberate with people we know than with total strangers.
Now I have to admit, I definitely would have fucked Julie right there on my sofa if the opportunity clearly presented itself. In fact, I spent a good portion of our conversation trying to hide my “hardened” interest, especially later in the evening as Julie’s inhibitions retreated. At least twice Julie clearly caught me looking at her legs. She sat lengthwise at one end of the sofa and was repeatedly shifting her position – first drawing her knees up into a hug, then sitting Indian-style for a while, and finally extending her legs out across the cushions. She really did have nice legs — tanned and toned — and I longed to run my hands over her silky smooth skin. I found myself having to consciously focus my attention on the conversation, working to hold eye contact as much as possible. She didn’t help the situation either. At one point she actually rubbed her thighs while complaining that her new morning workout had left her with some soreness. I was more than just a little distracted, and I think she knew it.
Julie ended the evening, announcing that she needed to “hit the hay” in order to be fresh for her interview in the morning. She stood from the sofa with a yawn, and then walked over to the loveseat where I sat, offering a hug while thanking me for being so hospitable. Fully aware that my persistent hard-on would be very obvious through my lounge pants, I was nonetheless obliged to stand in order to return her hug. She completed the embrace without any indication of noticing, and then continued to the guest room. The sweet, powdery scent of her perfume lingered in the room as I stayed to watch the nightly news broadcast, embarrassed at my uncontrollable adolescent excitement, but also wondering if I had blown an opportunity for love.
Her sound was muffled at first, almost a gentle sigh. But as I lay there listening through the constant whisper of my bedroom fan, I began to hear the unmistakable sound of Julie’s soft voice. And for the next several minutes my curiosity stirred to life. I held motionless, trying to pinpoint my hearing, reaching my senses through the stillness of the room. Another sound, like a sudden short exhale of breath, or a pant, was soon followed by a long moan “hmmmmm”.
At first I suspected that Julie was probably talking to someone on her cell phone. But I thought it odd to be calling someone at 3am, and I couldn’t resist the temptation to eavesdrop. Preparing to do a little reconnaissance, I rolled out of bed.
With both hands extended in front of me, clad mobilbahis only in my underwear, I made my way through the darkness to find my bedroom door and then silently turned the knob. The hinges, however, betrayed me as they released a low pitched squeak as I opened the door just far enough to get through. Seeing nothing but the glow of the nightlight from the bathroom at the other end of the hallway, I continued toward the guest room. I was surprised to find the door to Julie’s room opened, and from my position, carefully peering past the doorjamb, the room appeared completely dark.
Again, I heard another pant clearly coming from inside the room.
For an instant I worried that something might be wrong with Julie. But as quickly as the thought was formed it was dismissed when she suddenly mumbled a few sounds followed by a faint giggle, and then spoke in a soft childlike voice. “I’m not letting you” was all I could clearly hear. Standing at the doorway a smile painted across my face as I realized she must be talking in her sleep. I remained in the darkness holding my breath, and carefully listening for more.
For several minutes I stood there in the hallway cocking my head, desperately trying to hear the chopped words and syllables. At one point I could hear a slight tousling of the bed as her whispers continued. I tried to make sense of what I could hear, hoping to piece together what she was dreaming about. But I simply could not hear clearly enough. After several minutes, my crazy curiosity finally got the best of me, and as creepy as it seemed even then, I decided to make my way closer to the bed where Julie lay dreaming.
I knelt down and slowly began inching my way through the doorway. Creeping across the carpet in a low crawl with my hands outstretched, I was careful not to bump the bed or disturb her sleep in any way. I finally located the corner post, and adjusting my position I quietly maneuvered into a kneeling position beside the bed. Without a noise, without even so much as a floorboard squeak, I had made it in without detection.
I held my position beside the bed perfectly still for a minute or so, barely breathing. I then lightly rested my hand on the extreme edge of the mattress, feeling for any gentle movement. I knew she was close because I could faintly detect the warmth of her body. It felt like Julie might be covered by the bed sheet, but I couldn’t be sure. She let out another sound, a sort of grunting gasp. At about the same time I began to detect a very gentle, but noticeable, rhythmic tugging of the sheet, and I instantly recognized that she was probably doing more than just dreaming.
A flood of excitement spread through me as I remained perfectly still, open-mouthed in astonishment, staring wide-eyed into the pitch blackness. I clearly remember thinking how perverted my being in her room seemed at the time, but I was simply unable to withdraw. The moment was unbelievably thrilling.
My senses were focused razor-sharp on Julie’s movements, painting the picture in my mind that my eyes could not see. I could tell from the sound of her mumblings that she was lying on her back, and I desperately wanted to touch her. But again, that word “pervert” screamed out in my head, and I held my position.
I was close enough to hear her breathing. The sound was irregular, almost a desperate panting one minute, and then heavy sighs and low moaning the next. I could feel the gentle tremors of the bed as she occasionally squirmed and adjusted her position. My heart was pounding as I became the blind voyeur, immersed in the sounds and movements of this young woman, presumably masturbating in her sleep, only inches from my position. But as Julie’s movements increased, so did my fear of being discovered. The situation was just too risky and yes, too depraved, even for a lonely divorced schmuck like me. I needed to leave the room, or more likely just crawl back into the hallway to jerk off. And then… I felt her hand drop upon mine!
My heart jumped into my throat, and I held my breath in terror, unable to move. I didn’t quite know what to do. I was convinced at any second she would awaken and begin screaming at the top of her lungs. She would freak out, waking the neighborhood as she ran screaming from my house. She would probably call my ex-wife in disgust, ruining whatever honorable reputation I had left. Suddenly I would be a sex offender. Unable to pull away, I was sure I was done for. But then something even more shocking happened.
Julie gave my hand a little squeeze and then released it softly and pulled away. I was frozen in shock.
Heart pounding, and tingling with nervous excitement, I finally exhaled as the questions began racing through my head. Was she awake? Was she encouraging me? Did she intentionally leave the door open for me? I was initially paralyzed with astonishment, not knowing whether to crawl away, or jump into the bed beside her. I still had no idea if she was really awake, but after a brief pause I had a determined “what-the-hell” moment, and mobilbahis giriş decided to test what I had suddenly concluded — Julie wanted sex.
I gently ran my hand over the bed sheet and slowly inched it forward. I moved at a snail’s pace, lightly tracing my extended fingers across the covering top sheet towards Julie’s position. I could again detect the rhythmic pull of the sheet, and the pace of her movements seemed to increase as I moved closer. I was careful not to clumsily bump into her hand, and with cautious positioning I touched my finger with the weight of a feather at Julie’s hip. I then gently lowered my entire hand, one at finger a time, to completely rest along her side. I could hear her exhale deeply.
In the quiet darkness of the night I could feel the subtle movements of Julie’s warm body and the irregular flutter of the bed sheet covering her. My mind easily completed the rest of the erotic vision. I wanted her.
From my starting position at Julie’s side I followed the waistband of her panties, slowly inching my fingers inward. Almost immediately I could feel a lifting of the taut band, and I instantly realized that underneath the covering bed sheet Julie’s hand was inside the front of her panties. I paused and allowed my fingertips to feel the band pulling against the actions of her hand. I was so close to her movements. The blind sensation was incredibly sexy, and it was all I could do to hold this position. I was wildly tempted to re-enter my hand under the sheet and dive in. But somehow I resisted. The mesmerizing trance of her unexpected show held me back, forcing me to wait and follow along. My cock was throbbing as I leaned into the side of the bed.
I pushed a fingertip into the sheet and hooked into her gaping waistband and began to tug in a downward direction, hoping to lower her panties along with the sheet. Immediately she gasped, and with a “no” began to roll onto her side away from me. I quickly pulled back.
Again her actions had confused me, and I sat quietly and waited, weighing out my next move.
It felt like forever, and the anxious tension was almost unbearable. I was also extremely aroused. I reached down to adjust myself, feeling the incredible firmness of my erection stabbing uncomfortably into my underwear. I also detected a sizeable wet spot of pre-cum soaking through at the peak of my rigid tent. I tugged at my balls, and pushed my thumb along the side of my shaft, moving it into a better position. For a moment I thought of climbing into the bed beside Julie, spooning up against her backside, pressing my throbbing manhood against her tight little ass. Instead, I decided to follow her lead.
My patience was finally rewarded as the sound of Julie’s voice returned. “Are you there?” She emitted a quick flutter of a giggle, followed by that silly childlike voice again. This time I was hearing her words very plainly. “Touch it, silly”, she said, and then another giggle. “Mmmmm… yesss…”
I needed no further coaxing.
I reached under the sheet to find her position, and again my fingers found Julie’s warm body. She was now rolled almost completely onto her front, slowly moving her body in a restless movement, grinding down into the mattress.
I placed my hand on the backside of her panties, feeling the tight warm curve of her ass. Very carefully, I pried the index finger of my hand into the leg opening of her panties where they stretched firmly across her ass cheek. Her panties were pulled up tightly into her bottom, leaving a good portion of Julie’s ass exposed. Her gentle grinding continued as I followed the edge of the material around the soft flesh of her ass towards her crotch. She began to arch her back, drawing her bottom slightly upwards as if welcoming my touch. I could feel the tight bunching slowly releasing from her ass as I gently pulled the leg opening wider. I paused briefly to gain better access for my hand. Using one finger to hold open the damp crotch of her panties, I slowly extended another to carefully reach in.
My touch instantly found Julie’s pouting sex. I gasped when I felt the incredible wet heat of her cunt. She was absolutely soaked — more so than I had felt with any woman. Careful not to enter too quickly, I gently traced my finger all around the edges of her swelled entrance. Julie moaned softly as I stroked along her petals, slowly increasing the pressure of my touch while coaxing apart the soft folds of skin guarding her treasure. She was completely smooth to the touch, no hair whatsoever. I gently began working my reach further into her opening, every so often entering barely deep enough to gather more of her juices, lathering my finger thoroughly. I continued to spread the slippery moisture along the length of her pussy and beyond. Julie opened her legs further by extending the position of a knee, and I suddenly became aware that her hand was in contact with her mound. Her pussy seemed to rhythmically pull forward and release following the movements of her hand. Our fingers touched as I reached forward to find the swollen nub of her attention. She yielded at my contact, and then lightly brushed her fingers over mine as I explored her clit. It was an incredibly erotic sensation. The absence of light seemed to amplify my sense of touch, and judging from her heavy breathing, Julie felt it too.
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