Red painted walls surround me as I enter into the room. I see a woman of voluptuous, curvy, and smooth shape under the blanket in a contended sleep. Her knees deep into her chest, just beneath her bosom. Her lips, plump and red. My member grows -- the appetite of the inner beast desires to unleash; however, the human, the conscience that builds abstracts and stores moral, restrains me of doing the regrettable. I watch her slightly distended abdomen slowly rise and fall as if...no, that's absurd...just for a moment my eyes plays tricks as if someone is reaching out for help. I place my hand onto my forehead, in regret of downing the several shots of everclear that a woman -- a rich, powerful, gorgeous 'cougar' blonde and blue eyed bombshell bought me.<br/><br/>I hear the woman's stomach groan. It's a deep bubbly moan. I decide to sit at the foot bed. I feel the satin sheets underneath. The room is cool. The hardwood floor is clean. There's a dresser that stands on the wall adjacent to a walk-in closet. There are pictures that display flowers and butterflies. I look toward the window -- droplets of rainwater fall onto the glass and dwindle down, some, cross and run over one another. I place my hand onto the sheet, an inch or two away from myself -- warm moist -- the nerves in my hand quickly withdraw from the sheets. I rub my index finger and thumb as the substance becomes sticky. A part of me becomes disgusted, while the other amused. A half smile forms on my face.<br/><br/>The slumbering woman turns, her eyes slowly open...