"Mister Kingsley!" Even though Naomi spoke softly, her words nonetheless cut through the quiet hush of the late evening with an intensity that shocked Richard out of his distracted daze and forced him to take stock of his surroundings for the first time in what felt like a long while. He blinked owlishly as the small lamp came on to reveal the lithe, petite body of his host's younger sister, silhouetted beneath her sheets in a way he desperately wished he didn't notice. He realized with a sudden dismay that he wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, and his hands moved down to cover his private parts like a character from some bawdy old piece of ribald art.

"Honestly, Mister Kingsley," Naomi huffed, her sparkling blue eyes fixed very firmly on what his fingers completely and utterly failed to conceal. "Did you plan to come in here in the middle of the night and... and take advantage of me, simply on the basis of a few pleasant hours of conversation?" Richard opened his mouth to speak, but the truth was he genuinely didn't know how or why he'd come to be in the willowy blonde's private bedroom; the last he remembered, he was settling into the comfortable bed in the guest quarters on the second floor, grateful for the opportunity to finally put his head down and get some rest after a wearying day of interacting with people far outside his usual social spheres.

He'd obviously been sleepwalking... but from what little he'd heard about somnambulism, it was a lifelong malady, not something developed in the middle of the night in a young lady's bedroom. And even if it was, surely the sudden disappearance of all of his bedclothes wasn't one of the symptoms, was it? "I, I, I... I'm sorry, I must have gotten lost," he stammered, all too aware of the inadequacy of his excuse. ""T-turned around, I mean, in the middle of the night. I, um, I, I only stepped out of my room for a moment--"

Naomi sneered. "And you simply happened to find yourself on the wrong floor, in a young lady's bedroom, completely naked... and, I might add, more than a little tumescent?" Richard felt a furious blush creep across his pale features, almost as much from hearing a member of the upper crust of British society describe his cock as from any awareness he might have had of his own erection. Naomi Harrington-Trace was supposed to be quite sheltered about such matters, but the way she gazed at his stiffening penis almost gave the lie to her indignant tones.

He hushed her rapidly. "I, um, yes, naturally I am aware of the implausibility of such an occurrence, as well as the, the impropriety of the situation," he fumbled out, unable to stop himself from noticing that when Naomi drew the sheet closer around her body it only drew attention to her own lack of any kind of clothing beneath her bedding. "Nonetheless, as absurd as the excuse might seem, it's very much exactly as I said. I'm afraid that between the darkness and the unfamiliar territory, I simply wandered far afield in my confusion. No, um, advantage was intended. I--"

The petite blonde let out a snort of disdain. "That seems like more than merely garden variety confusion," she said, leaning forward slightly and fixing him with a cool, imperious stare. Richard was embarrassed to feel his prick twitching against his fingers as the motion brought Naomi's stiff nipples into direct contact with the sheet. "It seems like you must have been in quite a sincere fog of befuddlement to wind up so lost without even a pair of pajamas to call your own. Tell me, sir, how you managed to find this exact room out of all of them in such a bewildered haze as all that?" Richard desperately wished she would stop fixing him with such an immodest gaze while she spoke. It made him feel strangely vulnerable in a way he couldn't remember experiencing with any other woman.

And yet, it also felt uncommonly familiar. The peculiar emphasis Naomi put on 'bewildered' and 'befuddlement' somehow reminded him of the conversation they had earlier during dinner, when he was seated next to her and the social niceties of the upper classes demanded a certain amount of graceful banter Richard simply hadn't been trained in producing. He let Naomi lead the discussion, interjecting merely a few affirmative murmurs when prompted, and the stare she was giving him now had a distinct similarity to the one she gave him then... if, perhaps, directed a little lower down.

Suddenly aware of the intense and expectant silence between the two of them, Richard tried to make some kind of rejoinder. "I...." Only the single word escaped before he found himself lost in a reverie, recalling all too well the amiable flow of Naomi's words over and around him at dinner until he felt quite passive in his responses. He'd felt a bit confused then, too, the constant burble of conversation unmooring him from his understanding of what she was saying and leaving him adrift in a sea of meaningless speech. Hadn't she called him bewildered then, too? Hadn't she very specifically mentioned a fog of befuddlement?

Richard's cock brushed against his fingers, and he slowly and lethargically realized he'd gone from holding his hands in front of his stiff prick to curling it gently around his shaft as if its weight was simply too much to bear without support. It felt like an iron bar against his palm, and he became acutely aware of the small triumphant smirk Naomi wore on her face as she watched the plump head of his penis pushing out from his fist again and again. "That only seems like a good way to deepen your confusion, Mister Kingsley," she purred, her voice hoarse with some unidentifiable emotion. "Are you quite sure you can find your way back to your room with your mind in such a state?"

The sheet gradually began to lower, exposing first Naomi's shoulder and then her collarbone as she directed more and more of her attention to Richard's stroking hand. "I think that perhaps what you really need is some rest, Mister Kingsley," she cooed, her sultry tones making Richard's cock leak from the tip like a broken faucet. "Perhaps if you simply took a few moments to lie down and let those heavy eyes close, all that fog of befuddlement might clear after a time and leave you once again your own master." She slid over, exposing a patch of mattress that beckoned enticingly to his exhausted brain. "You don't need to worry, I won't take advantage."

It didn't entirely escape his attention that they'd gone from discussing him taking advantage of her to assuring she wouldn't take advantage of him, but Richard couldn't really think about the subtle shift in the balance of power that implied. He simply felt relaxed and comfortable as he stumbled across the room with a sleepwalker's gait and flopped onto his back on the bed, luxuriating in the softness of the mattress the same way he had when he'd fallen asleep only a short while ago. And like that sleep, this one felt as though a tiny part of him was still awake and aware and awaiting... instructions? Yes. Definitely awaiting instructions now.

"You're so tired now, Mister Kingsley, aren't you?" Naomi asked, her voice positively dripping with saccharine sympathy. "Here, let me help you rest those weary muscles so you can relax, relax, relax." She pushed his hand away from his cock, and it was a sign of how utterly exhausted he was that his arm simply fell onto the mattress with a loose thud despite his desperate desire to keep stroking himself. It came as something of a shock when Naomi's delicate and slender fingers replaced his own, but by then his every effort to make sense of the situation fell away into a--a fog of befuddlement, his stupefied mind supplied--and he soon gave up and allowed himself to enjoy the pleasure she provided.

"You're such a good boy, Mister Kingsley," Naomi praised, her hand moving faster and faster on his stiff prick until his balls practically ached with the desire for release. "I can always tell when I'm talking to a sweet, tractable darling such as yourself--it's something in your eyes, the way they glaze over and leave you so open to my suggestions. I knew as soon as I planted the notion of coming up to my room tonight that you wouldn't be able to resist the idea, and of course as close as we sat it wasn't difficult for me to spot that you'd make it worth my while." Richard felt her straddle his hips, then, using her stroking fingers to guide him into warm wetness that made him strain upwards in animal lust, but his brain was by then far too lost to arousal to deny himself what she offered.

"And if you're happy to be my good boy, and I--nnnh! I'm happy to ride your big thick cock, then... ohhh... then w-why shouldn't we take advantage of the situation?" Richard could think of any number of reasons why he shouldn't fuck the sister of an old friend and former commanding officer... but he wasn't. His brain had simply stopped, lost in numb and drowsy blankness that allowed his prick to do all of the thinking for him right now, and any question of consequences was left to irrelevance as he plowed Naomi's wet cunt with the rutting instinct of a wild beast. He'd have spent in her already if something in the base of his mind wasn't enticing him to hold out a little longer and then a little longer still until his new lover was entirely sated.

Assuming she could be. It wasn't long before even Richard's stultified intellect grew to recognize the tiny hitch of breath and squeak of quiet rapture that greeted each of Naomi's orgasms, but of course his distracted brain had little skill for counting and he legitimately had no clue how many times he made her cum. But soon her orgasms melted into one another, and she clutched at his shoulders with an urgency and a wild, furious desire that almost mocked her earlier coolness. Richard couldn't see her, not with his eyelids so tightly stuck together the way they were, but he had no trouble picturing the lusty expression on her face as she rode his cock to one climax after another.

But eventually, even the most desperate of lusts had to extinguish themselves, and Naomi rolled off of Richard to lie shaking and gasping on the bed next to him for several long moments while his prick twitched and spasmed uselessly in the cool evening air. He could think of nothing but release, no matter how hard he tried, and for a moment Richard's dazed and muzzy mind wondered if he wasn't about to simply spurt his seed into the air like a fountain out of sheer arousal despite not feeling so much as a single caress against his sensitive skin. She'd simply worked him up too much to unwind his tension now without some kind of release, even if it had to come from the whisper of the breeze on his cock. It almost felt unfair.

But then he felt Naomi's hand reach over, trembling like the last leaf of autumn, and tug on his shaft again and again until all the pent-up desire he felt unleashed itself in a torrent of spunk all over his chest and belly. It drizzled down onto the elegant blonde's fingers, coating them liberally with his seed, and a part of him was relieved--the last thing he could afford to do right now would be to get his benefactor's sister pregnant. The scandal would ruin them both... even if Richard had to admit that another, more primal aspect of his character ached to fill her womb up with every last drop of the jizz he'd built up over the course of their sex.

But with his need released, he was even more vulnerable to her mesmerizing whispers, and soon Richard found himself dressing once again in the pajamas he'd forgotten he doffed the second he slipped into Naomi's bedroom. He returned to his own quarters, the encounter slipping further and further from his mind with every step, until by the time he settled onto his own mattress he'd completely wiped it from his memory. He fell into a deep, untroubled sleep... and if he realized his unconscious self had already made plans to 'accidentally' meet with Naomi again tomorrow, that thought was soon erased by slumber.

THE END