Some six months had passed since I had enjoyed a one-time episode with Greta, my wife's sister. I had pretty much figured it was just that, a one-time episode. Traveling on business, however, I found myself going nearby the home that Greta shared with her husband. I grabbed my cell phone and called their house right after I exited the freeway. I wanted to be polite enough to give a little advance notice, but I didn't want to give too much time because I knew that Greta would only fuss about fixing herself up. She never liked anyone to see her unless she was at her best. I figured that her obsession with that dated back to her days as a model.
Greta answered on the third ring. I told her that I was in town and thought I'd drop by. She said it would be fine, but her husband was away on another business trip. That was okay. He was a bit of a braggart, and often uninformed about what he was saying. By the time I pulled into her drive, Greta was still on the phone, so I knew that she hadn't had time to change out of her pajamas.
Greta often joked about how hard her job was. She got out of bed and brushed her teeth. She had one cup of coffee with toast and then went to the bathroom. Then with a second cup of coffee, she climbed the stairs to her office, still in her pajamas, where she answered the phone and conducted her business on the computer.
By the time I rang the bell, Greta had barely got down the stairs. She peeked around the door as if shy and making sure I was the only one there. It always surprised me how she pretended to be shy. I knew that in Germany, she and Anna, my wife, had often visited the beach in the north of Germany where almost everyone, including them, was fully nude.
When Greta closed the door, I could see her fully. Her blonde hair was about shoulder length and hung loosely, brushed but not styled. It was a glamor-sleepy look. Her pajamas were a baby blue, a color that went well with her green eyes, blonde hair, and light skin. The fabric was a soft, thin fleece, and it hung loosely. Her pajamas were tied with a drawstring, and her top fell loosely across her breasts. I knew immediately that she had no bra underneath. Although now into her late 30's, her breasts were still firm in appearance, and her nipples showed easily through the thin fabric.
"Would you like some coffee?" Greta asked.
I accepted her offer, and she turned to walk to the kitchen. I was sure that she knew that the pajamas clung to her buttocks in a most dramatic fashion. I could every curve of her hips. I could see where her rounded butt cheeks came together, and the fabric draped into the crack as she walked. Each step revealed the movements of her still firm ass, the result of continuing her exercise regimen. If she was wearing panties, it was obvious that they were thongs. I thought of her tight, round buns beneath that thin fleece. I felt an erection begin.
As she walked, I remembered our one encounter some time back. It had never been mentioned by either of us, although I knew that she remembered it, in spite of the drinks she had that night. The reason I remembered was because of how she acted the next morning.
Having already built up a full steam of lust, I sat down in the kitchen. Greta did not get me a cup of coffee. She brought a cup to the table and set it down. When she returned with the carafe, she leaned over to pour it. Two thoughts raced immediately through my mind. I thought that this must be how she served passengers when she was a flight attendant. Then it dawned on me that the pajama top seemed to be buttoned a little less than it was when she answered the door. As she slowly poured my coffee, her pajama top fell forward revealing her right breast all the way down to the nipple. I didn't even try to appear that I wasn't looking.
Greta stopped pouring but held her position with the carafe still in her hand. "Have you had enough," she asked with a smile on her face? I looked at her eyes, so bright and full of life. I looked at her smile. Her lips were a little thin but were very pretty when she smiled and showed a hint of her perfect white teeth.
I looked back down to her still exposed breast and replied, "No, I don't think so. I think this is just going to get me started." Her smile got a little wider, and slowly Greta rose up and replaced the carafe. She came over to the table and picked up her coffee. Instead of sitting in one of the chairs, she totally surprised me by coming over and straddling my legs. She sat down facing me and pulled her cup to her lips, sipping daintily. Her beautiful breasts were inches from my eyes.
I reached for my cup with my left hand and passed it to my right. As I sipped the coffee, the back of my hand brushed her left breast. I leaned forward enough to adjust the contact so that I was rubbing precisely against the nipple.
"One thing I have learned about you is that you really know how to get the most out of a cup of coffee," she joked. And she was right. I enjoyed coffee, but I was mixing my enjoyment of coffee with some sexual tease and a little bit of contact. I didn't know which was hotter, my coffee, the woman in my lap, or me.
I passed my cup to my left hand and replaced it on the table. Then I put both arms around Greta and said, "you serve a great cup of coffee."
"Do you think it's as good as that blue drink you got me tipsy with over at your house a few months back," she asked smiling. She put her cup down and put her arms around my neck. Then she leaned forward and put her chin on top of my head,, leaving my face squarely between her breasts.
