I sat up and felt something push frimly against my crotch. Removing the comforter I noticed my dick saying good morning, standing straight up. "Why," ... wondered, trying to recall any sexy dream that might have just occured. A faint wisp of brown hair, and a nicesmell. Not a smell of flowers, nor lavander, but a smell that every man does, and if not should,enjoy. The smell of lightly conditioned hair, a dap of perfume, and a hint of lust. I am not some creepy pervert who dreams about. We walked past the stairway to the upper floors and into a big kitchen with a large round oak table in the middle. Marci got up and gave me a big hug and introduced me to George's wife, Sarah. Marci was a small woman with long blond hair. She was a painter and had developed a good reputation, with shows in Philadelphia and New York. "I'm glad you decided to come, Peter," Marci said. "We don't get to see enough of you." "I'm not much of a keeper-upper with people," I said. "You know me. I live a. More

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