There is a strange buzzing sound in her ears. She knows she is still asleep, but there is something tugging at her senses. Whatever it is, it annoys her. She was having a very erotic dream. It's not very often that she experiences anything this erotic, where her husband is concerned it might as well be never.
The buzzing noise continues to invade her dreams. It's not a consistent sound, it's more intermittent. For some reason she feels it's important. She slowly starts to wake up and look around.
That's odd
, she thinks,
why am I downstairs in the living room?
The tv is on but the volume is low, which means that it can't be causing the buzzing sound she heard. Then she hears it again, but it's not a buzzing sound this time, although it
is
still irritating.
"Honey? Are you still down there?" Her husband calls from upstairs.
An image of her riding her step-son's hard cock flashes through her mind. She lifts the afghan and sees her naked body underneath it.
That was no dream!
She screams in her mind.
The previous evening's activities race through her mind almost faster than she can comprehend them. As she hears the thumping of her husband coming down the stairs she tries to force her half-asleep body to leap off the couch and grab her robe, but barely manages to crawl across the floor instead. Grabbing her robe and spinning it around her body as she stands up, she hears her husband walk up behind her.
"Why are you downstairs? Did you sleep downstairs?" She can hear the notes of confusion and worry in his voice.
Turning around to face him slowly she affects a half-asleep smile, which isn't far from the truth of how she feels, and says, "I must have dozed off on the couch with Alan. Sorry honey."
His look of perplexion slowly fades to calm with a slight hint of irritation and finally dismissal.
"Ok. I guess I am going to fix some breakfast. Do you want anything?" He inquires.
"No, I think I may take a shower to wake up, my brain feels all foggy." Her heart is racing because now she is afraid of her husband noticing the 'sex smell' which she can feel covering her entire body. All she can think about is getting it off so she is not discovered. But, she also needs to remove her panties and Alan's boxers, which she is standing on, without her husband seeing those too.
How the hell did I wind up in this predicament?
she wonders. Then she remembers the glass of wine she chugged. That's it, the damn wine, she drank it too fast and it messed with her head and made her do all those things last night that she wouldn't have done in her right mind. Deep down she hears how pathetic that really sounds and how flimsy of an excuse that really is, but at this point, it's all she's got to keep from going crazy at this moment.
Her husband walks away to the kitchen and she glances down to her still asleep step-son. She smirks as she feels a twinge of pride at having worn him out so thoroughly. She glances over her shoulder to make sure her husband isn't returning, then she reaches down to her feet, grabs her panties in one hand and his boxers in the other. Quickly she pushes his boxers under the afghan, then heads up the stairs to her bedroom and then to her shower before any more disasters can occur.
With the hot water running the steam fogs up the glass enclosure and the mirror. She lets the robe fall to the floor and steps into the shower. Immediately the water heats up her skin and wraps around her in a warm, wet embrace. She stands there letting the water run over the many curves of her naked body, feeling the rivulets snake back and forth, enjoying the soothing sensation. The tenseness of her shoulders fades as she relaxes.
The events of last night keep playing through her addled mind. She can't believe the things they did. Obviously, the wine was the major factor in affecting her decision-making skills. Consoling herself she hopes that Alan believes it was all just a dream as she first thought.
She begins soaping her body to clean her skin of any remnants of the prior evening's events. As she feels the foam creep over her curves and down between certain crevasses she suddenly remembers the feel of Alan's hands on her body. She unconsciously runs her fingers lightly over those same parts of her body that he touched to reenact the sensations that were accompanied with his touch.
Pleasure blossoms through her body like a flower opening up to the morning sun. A slight ache in her middle alarms her to what she is feeling and why. She chides herself at reinvigorating her desires for Alan, as well as proving the wine had little to do with what happened.
Rinsing off she finishes her shower and then shuts off the water. The steamy warmth keeps her from feeling any chill in the air as she dries off with a towel. She runs her fingers over her arms to feel the fresh softness of her clean skin, while looking down at her naked body. She sighs at all the little imperfections that seem to stand out to her view and remind her how old she is.
Opening the bathroom door to her bedroom, she glances to be sure her bedroom door to the hallway is closed before proceeding. She walks around to the walk-in closet, which is basically a small room but much bigger than a regular closet. It has a full-length set of mirrors so she can see her body from every angle.
Staring at her body she sees the slight wrinkling of skin around her knees and the way her muscles seem to hang just a tad more loosely than they used to. Her skin isn't flabby and saggy like some old woman's, but it isn't as tight and toned as it used to be a few years ago. Her arms show the same signs of aging. The skin isn't as smooth and supple as it used to be either.
Looking at her breasts, she knows they are still impressive in size, but they seem to droop a little more, as if they have begun to lose their perkiness and now sway ponderously as gravity pulls on them a little more every year. Her nipples still poke out straight forward, but they aren't upturned slightly as they should be, or used to be.
Turning around and twisting she looks at her ass. It has a nice roundness to it, but again to her eyes there is a slight lessening of its tightness. Maybe even the curvature is becoming more flat, she's not sure. She knows it isn't how it used to be, she used to brag about being able to bounce a quarter off of it.
Looking directly into her eyes she asks herself why she even thought Alan would be physically attracted to her. She summarizes all her body's imperfections as signs to confirm that she is getting old. Nobody wants an old woman, not even her husband it seems.
She puts on some clean underwear, baggy shorts and a short-sleeved top. Pulling her long hair back into a tail she uses a stretchy band to tie it off. Nodding and shrugging at her appearance she decides that today she will just be casual and comfy. No frills, no excitement, just plain old Danielle.
