Rebecca 1st Night Visit

You look up to see Rebecca, standing before you in her nightgown. Man, she looks bomb there in the moonlight.

"Sir," she whispers discreetly. "May I lay with thee for a moment."

"Sure thing," you say, nodding your head. Carefully and very quietly, Rebecca lays herself down next to you, her full figure help filling out the rest of your small floor mattress. You can hear Florence and Abernathy snoring peacefully. For awhile, Rebecca doesn't say anything, just breathing next to you, with her back facing you. "What up, Mrs. B?" you finally ask.

"Well, it's just, with Simon still away, I felt I needed to rest with thee. Me and Simon have been together for a long time. He's always slept by my side."

"Yeah, I'm still sorry about that. Still, he looked like he was going to slap you."

"Simon has his troubles."

"Does he hit you often?" you ask. Rebecca doesn't immediately answer.

"Yes."

"Ah shit. Look Mrs. B, you're a hella nice person, and you don't need some jerk like that smacking you around."

"Simon? But he is my husband, and so I must be his wife."

"Nah, you don't have to if you don't want to while he's sitting on the benches."

Rebecca turns to face you, her stare intense and speckled with anger. "You're saying I should be unfaithful?"

"Hell yeah."

"I-no, I can't. And I can't believe you would suggest such a thing. You're very bold, for someone only a few years older than my daughters. The nerve of you." But she doesn't look away from you or get up. Instead, she leans into you and carefully kisses you, just a quick peck.

But then she pecks you again.

And again.

And then finally, her kiss becomes heavy, leaning into you and you into her. Her kiss quickly becomes hot and heavy, and she becomes surprised when you begin swirling tongues. Maybe hot frenching ain't a thing here. It seems new to her, but she lets out a pleasant little moan as she gets the hang of it. You reach up to grasp one of her titties, but this causes her to stop. She backs away from you, a look of lust but also worry upon her face. Just as quietly as she had come to lay down next to you, Rebecca Miller stands up and returns to her bed. Seems like the worry beat the lust.

Ah well, there's always tomorrow.