We’d owned our B&B for several years and loved running it, getting to meet new people and sharing the many things to see and do in our area. There were fringe benefits too, of course, working from and at home, plus we’d occasionally hit it off well enough with a guest, or perhaps a couple, that it became more than a guest-host relationship, and we discovered new friends.
Of course, it also meant getting up very early to have coffee and breakfast together so that our guests could get on with their busy days. As a result, I rarely got to take advantage of Richard’s very dependable morning wood, something we’d always enjoyed. On this particular occasion, we had two couples booked, filling two of our available three guest rooms.
The third was occupied by a non-paying guest, Jack, an old friend of ours who had flown in late the previous evening and would be visiting us for a few days. He’d called from his car when he was close and we’d stayed up, quietly welcoming him and getting him settled, careful to avoid waking the other guests.
Richard had left the next morning to run to the farmer’s market in search of fresh eggs, seasonal fruit, and other local treats, also planning a stop at Miss Margaret’s for some special fresh muffins she provides to us. My job was to set the table, make coffee and fresh-squeezed OJ, and have the bacon and sausages ready to prepare. It was also my job to make sure Jack got up in time to “help out," as he’d offered. The others were on their own for morning wake-up but knew that breakfast was only available between seven and nine.
I was still in only my tiny panties and a crop top I’d put on when I got up, so I needed to wake him and go put something on – pants or shorts, at least – before any of the other guests appeared. I knocked lightly on Jack’s door at six-thirty, not wanting to wake our other guests so early. “Jack? Are you awake… Jack?” Getting no response, I knocked again. “Jack?”
Still no answer, so I quietly opened the door and crept in, closing it behind me. When I turned, in the dim light from the shuttered window I could see Jack sprawled on the bed, still breathing deeply, sound asleep, the sheet tangled around his legs. He slept in only his boxer shorts, but his cock had escaped and stood out, thick and virile… Clearly, Richard was not the only one in the house that suffered morning wood!
Smiling, I crept closer. His erection was gorgeous, swollen, and veiny, and as I watched, it moved, straining and swelling, throbbing with his heartbeat. My illicit voyeurism was affecting me as you might expect, the heat and little flutters and sparks of arousal in my lower tummy accompanying the tightening and stiffening of my always eager nipples, which thrust out against the soft fabric of my top.
