A beautiful woman in a nightgown knocking on the door in the middle of the night

This post was last edited by hm566 on 2021-3-2 at 17:37.

The scorching July heat is unbearable, but thankfully I closed a big deal yesterday. Because of this deal, I couldn't accompany my wife and sister-in-law on their trip to Xinjiang three days ago. They've been gone for three days, and just got back from Kanas Lake on the phone. They'll be

gone for a few more days, so I told them to enjoy themselves. I'm sitting alone on the sofa, drinking beer, watching a TV drama that seems to be the brainchild of a bunch of directors and screenwriters chatting over a hot pot. I wanted to go out, but it's too hot, and we celebrated until dawn yesterday after closing the deal, so I'm too lazy to move. I'm just killing time.

It was past ten o'clock. I took a shower, put on shorts, and waited for my hair to dry so I could go to bed early. Just as I was about to finish my cigarette and go to sleep, the doorbell rang. I wondered who could be coming so late, and why they hadn't called. Maybe it was some guy who was drunk and bothering me. Reluctantly, I got up and opened the door without asking who it was. To my surprise, both I and the person outside were stunned.

Standing in the doorway was a woman in a sheer nightgown. Seeing her flushed face, I remembered helping her pick up some fruit that had spilled from a plastic bag on the stairs once. She was my neighbor across the hall.

Because it was an apartment building, neighbors rarely interacted. My contact with her was limited to that one time when I helped her. We arrived at the same time and went our separate ways. Our conversation consisted of her politely thanking me, and me replying that I was welcome.

After that, we would just nod and smile when we met on the stairs.

Seeing her dressed like that now really surprised me, and we were both a little embarrassed to meet in such revealing clothes. She said urgently, "Excuse me, could I use your phone?" She glanced anxiously at the stairs, worried someone might be coming up.

My mind raced; as I answered, I wondered what might have happened to her—maybe she'd locked herself in. After I invited her in, she quickly came in. The strong scent of shampoo and shower gel she smelled as she passed me told me she'd just showered.

I closed the door and told her where the phone was. As she walked towards it, she would pass the floor lamp I'd left on. I'd turned off the main light in the living room because I was going to bed. The light illuminated her long, slender legs under her sheer skirt, a sight that was quite striking. A surge of heat rose in my stomach, and without thinking, I turned the main light back on.

The room suddenly became bright, which startled her. She said urgently, "Could you turn off the light?" I explained guiltily, "I was afraid you couldn't see clearly," and turned off the light. But in that short time, I had already seen her naked body under her sheer skirt.

Now I'm certain she went out after showering, and it wasn't to see someone off, because no woman dresses like that to see someone off. Dressing like that means she dresses like this at home. So she must have gone out to take out the trash, and the garbage chute in this building is half a floor down, that's for sure.

At that moment, she rapidly pressed the buttons. I prayed in my heart that no one would answer, so I wouldn't be alone tonight. The thought of this made my blood boil, and my shorts couldn't hide my erection. My eyes were fixed on the flashing screen, and every nerve in my body was focused on her.

After a few minutes of anxious muttering to herself, she hung up the phone in disappointment. I could only ask, "What's wrong? Did you lock yourself in?" She moved further into the shadows and said, "I went out to throw out the trash, and the door closed. I've done it before, and it never closed!"

I'd had similar experiences, so I said confidently, "Did you turn on the range hood?" She was surprised, realizing why she was locked out. "Ah, that's it! What should I do?"

"Who did you call?" I asked with concern. "My parents have another key, but no one answers the door. Where could they be so late?" She was anxious and at a loss, her expression becoming very frustrated. "Don't worry, call again later. Sit down for a bit," I comforted her.

She hesitated for a moment and said, "Could I borrow a coat?" I pretended to be clueless and asked, "Are you cold?" I went to the door to get my coat and handed it to her. She seemed more at ease after putting it on, and came over to sit on the sofa. Suddenly, she said, "Could I borrow a set of clothes? I'm going to get my keys."

I chuckled inwardly. At that moment, her urgency had severely impaired her judgment, and she blurted out, "Your parents aren't here, how are you going to get them?" She sighed dejectedly and helplessly.

I started to plan in my mind and decided to try asking her to help me climb over from the balcony. I knew it was impossible, but I wanted to see how she would react. If she only thought of herself and didn't consider my safety at all, I would give up, because it would cause trouble. If she worriedly stopped me, it would show her kindness, and even if it succeeded, there wouldn't be any problems.

Sure enough, I voiced my thoughts. We went to the balcony, and she immediately gave up, saying, "How can we get over here? No, it's too dangerous." I said, "I'll try," and climbed onto the windowsill. She grabbed me nervously, saying, "No, it's too dangerous, come down!" I went back inside the balcony and said, "What should we do then? If it's too dangerous, you can sleep here. I'll make do in the living room."

She looked at me warily, seeing sincerity in my eyes, and said helplessly, "I'll make another call,"

as she went to make the call. I followed her back to the living room, where she sat back down on the sofa, disappointed. I poured her a glass of water.

We started chatting. She told me her husband was away on a business trip. Because he was a sales manager, he traveled frequently, and she had no choice but to do so to make ends meet. She then mentioned me, and I told her my wife was on vacation. As we became more familiar, I jokingly said, "It seems we're destined to be together. My wife is on vacation, and your husband is on a business trip. Heaven has arranged for us two lonely people to be alone together."

She conceded shyly, "Don't overthink it, it was an accident. But then again, I don't know what happened today. I usually go to bed early, but I couldn't fall asleep tonight, so I tidied up the room. I didn't expect this to happen. I'm really sorry to bother you so late." "

It's nothing, what can I say, it's fate. When I opened the door, I thought one of my best friends was drunk, but it turned out to be a beautiful woman, and..." I paused, considering her reaction. If she was angry, I'd have no chance; if she wasn't angry, my chances were much better.

Sure enough, she asked, "And what?" A slightly lewd smile appeared on my face. Not wanting to miss this golden opportunity, I said, "Don't be angry." She nodded, and I continued, "And you were dressed so sexily, I couldn't control myself." Hearing this, she naturally looked down at herself, pulled down the front of her draped shirt, and suddenly became embarrassed, saying, "Don't say it, it's so embarrassing." Her face turned red, but she looked at me with her eyes.

"Stop pulling it down, why cover up such a pretty nightgown, especially your body underneath? Let me see again, okay?" I began to arouse her desire. She tensed up and said, "What did you see? No!" I didn't speak, just looked at her with eyes full of passion.

She understood what I meant from my eyes, and stood up demurely, saying, "I'm leaving." I stood up and stopped her, saying, "How can you go out dressed like this?" "I'll call again, they might be back," she said nervously, turning around. I grabbed her arms, and she tried to pull away.

I didn't hold her tightly; she slumped into the sofa. I moved closer, leaning over her, my hands on the armrests, preventing her from escaping. She looked up at me, her eyes showing tension, a fleeting hint of resistance, and said, "What are you doing? Don't do this."

I didn't speak, only looked at her with eyes full of love and desire, inching closer to her. She watched me approach, her eyes fixed on me, her mind racing with thoughts of rejection—give up—rejection—give up. Her eyes told me without reservation that her slender fingers, covered by her clothes, appeared even whiter.

When my head was close enough for me to feel my breath, she turned her head away, simultaneously releasing her grip on her clothes, pushing my shoulders with both hands to stop me from getting closer, saying, "Please don't do this, I'm not a promiscuous woman, please don't."

Her hands were weak and powerless as she pushed me away. Women can be so interesting sometimes; even after giving up resistance, they still make such confessions, wanting a man to acknowledge that she's not acting out of lust, taking the restraint they show when clothed to the extreme, but becoming completely uninhibited once naked.

I didn't continue because she let go of her clothes, revealing her breasts. I looked down closely at the two protrusions under her nightgown and her chest heaving with tense, rapid breathing. Sensing my cessation, she turned to look at me. Seeing my gaze, she let out a soft moan and returned her hands to her chest. I seized the opportunity to kiss her, simultaneously embracing her.

After being kissed on the lips, she immediately turned her head, bending her arms and pressing them against my shoulders again, urgently saying, "No, don't do this, I'm going to scream." I whispered in her ear, "Go ahead and scream. You came to my house dressed like this. What will people think? Even if you accuse me of rape, I'll accept it. It's because I like you."

After saying that, I didn't give her a chance, pulling out one hand and grabbing her full breast.

She writhed, but not violently, her mouth still avoiding my kiss. I pressed my middle finger against the protrusion in the center of her breast, pushing it into her breast and kneading it slowly, gradually increasing the speed. As I rapidly trembled my hand, she let out a sound of utter surrender from her throat: "No!" Her hands went from pushing to gripping my shoulders tightly. Then, because she was huddled in the sofa and struggling to breathe, she had no choice but to tilt her head back and open her throat, letting me force my mouth on it.

I released her breast, reaching my hand under her skirt to caress her smooth buttocks. My other hand slipped under the strap of her skirt and grasped her full, soft breast. My other hand moved to the front, running up her smooth inner thigh. She tensed up and squeezed tightly, saying anxiously, "No, please."

I ignored her weak, half-hearted requests, my fingers persistently landing on her pubic hair-covered mons pubis. I parted the soft flesh of her inner thighs with my middle finger, rubbing her burning labia against the outside of her thin, cicada-wing-like panties. She couldn't help but let out an unbearable moan, her hands weakly grabbing my wrist to stop my movements.

Patiently, through the thin fabric, I searched for the clitoris at the top of the cleft, the clitoris that could subdue her. She knew my intentions, and tried to pull my hand away with increased force. An internal struggle raged within her; lust was urging her to give up and enjoy the new thrill this affair brought, while reason and morality demanded resistance, forbidding her from committing a transgression.

The surging passion within her told her to give up resisting. Dressed like this, coming to a house with only one man so late at night—even if she accused him of rape, how many people would believe her? She should give up resisting and experience a passion she had never felt before. Besides, her sex life with her husband had become mundane after the initial passion of their marriage. Because of his work, their sex life felt like a routine, and she had to suppress her desires. Giving up would bring her satisfaction, and this one time wouldn't affect her family.

As desire gradually took over her body, her resistance weakened, and I could sense the change in her mind. I quickened my teasing movements, trying to pull her completely out of her rationality and into the sea of desire. I increased the pressure on her already hardened nipples. The pain stimulated her subconscious desire to be conquered, and she weakly said, "Gently, it hurts." I relaxed and switched to gentle caresses. My fingers had already parted her modesty, and using the constantly flowing, slippery fluid, I easily found her swollen clitoris.

The rapid teasing of my fingers made her limp. I knew it was time, and then I suddenly picked her up. The sudden weightlessness made her tense up and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I held her tightly in the bedroom.

I placed her on the bed and, without giving her time to react, removed her skirt and panties. Then I stopped and looked at her with loving eyes, my hand on her full, soft breasts, making no move. Surprised and confused, she opened her eyes, which had been tightly closed in embarrassment. When she saw my gaze, she hurriedly turned her head away and closed her eyes again in a flustered and ashamed manner.

I whispered in her ear, full of affection and seduction, "Open your eyes and look at me." She shook her head. I grasped the tip of her breast with my fingers, slowly increasing the pressure. She sensed my persistence and said, "No,"

but still opened her eyes and looked at me. As I slowly approached her tense, panting lips, she suddenly wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her lips to mine, kissing me tightly. Her tongue licked her lips, searching for mine. I met her tongue, and we intertwined.

I knew she had completely given up resisting, so I began to caress her beautiful skin intensely. I reached between her legs, and she wisely parted them. I inserted my fingers into her wet and slippery vulva, pressed my thumb against her clitoris, and while digging into her hot vulva, I vigorously rubbed her clitoris. She couldn't help but let out joyful moans in her throat.

I slowly moved away from her body and between her legs. She knew I was looking at her already aroused and parted labia, and she covered her genitals with her hands in shame. I pulled her hands away, and she couldn't help but say, "Don't look."

I used my hands to gently separate her pubic hair, which was wet and sticky with her bodily fluids, and gently parted her two small labia. She looked up at me in confusion and said, "What are you doing?"

I smiled wickedly and kissed her. She exclaimed in surprise, "Oh!" I knew she had never had this experience before, and her words after the exclamation confirmed my judgment. She said, "No, it's dirty." I looked up and said, "How could it be? This is a sign that I like you." After saying that, I took her clitoris into my mouth and licked it with my hot tongue. She trembled all over from the stimulation and kept making various uncontrollable moans.

Soon her body stiffened, her hands gripping my head, her hips responding to my licking, emitting suppressed cries of pleasure from her primal instincts. I knew she had climaxed. To make her remember it, I gently bit her clitoris, prolonging her orgasm. "Ah, I'm going to die, ah!"

After she calmed down a bit, I climbed on top of her, holding her head in my hands, and asked, "Was it good?" She no longer avoided my gaze, looking at me with an incredulous yet infatuated look, nodding, then turning her head away in shame, her hands pressing her smooth breasts against our chests.

I reached out and guided my already erect penis, sliding it between her labia, and softly said, "Can I go inside? Are you willing to give yourself to me?" She turned her head, looking at me with eyes full of spring tide and love, nodding and gently lifting her hips, signaling her acceptance. As I entered her, she lost all restraint. She wrapped her arms around me, moaning softly, showering my face with kisses, her legs entwined around mine, responding instinctively to my thrusts.

Twenty minutes later, after a climax of utter exhaustion, she clung to me, refusing to let me off, tears streaming down her face. Reason returned to her, and I gently wiped away her tears, asking softly, "Was it good?"

She softly murmured, "Mmm."

We remained like that for a long time before she pushed me away, got up, and went to the bathroom. Watching her beautiful back, the swaying of her hips as she walked, my groin throbbed again. I didn't follow. I lit a cigarette, watching the bathroom doorway, waiting for her to emerge from the shower.

She hadn't come out for a long time, so I got up a little worried and went into the bathroom. I saw her sitting on the edge of the bathtub, her hands clutching her full breasts as I entered, one hand covering her crotch, looking at me with tear-reddened eyes, a look of grievance and sorrow. I couldn't help but feel sorry for her and went over to hug her, saying, "Don't be like this, be careful not to catch a cold." I took a bath towel and wrapped it around her shoulders, then helped her out of the tub.

After getting into bed, she didn't say anything. When I hugged her, she obediently snuggled into my arms.

After a long while, she gently pushed me away and said, "How can I face my husband in the future?" I hugged her even tighter, "You'll still be a good wife when you go back tomorrow. This is a blessing from our past lives. You don't need to blame yourself. Someone as outstanding as you is gone. I look forward to our meeting when you return her clothes."

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A beautiful woman in a nightgown knocking on the door in the middle of the night

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