6 comments/ 37782 views/ 34 favorites A Glorious Tease Ch. 01 By: iksanabot Looking back now, I'm not sure how it ever turned so suddenly from casual flirtation to all-encompassing, overpowering lust. Everything had moved so slowly - imperceptibly even - for so long. I guess I can't really identify any exact moment of change in our relationship, but I can start by telling you when I first met her. I was new to the city. I was new to the country, in fact, having just moved to the Netherlands from the United States. I had a three-year contract to work as a research associate on a big artificial intelligence project at the University of Amsterdam. I brought my family with me, my wife, Christie, and our three young children, one of which was a newborn. It was a difficult adjustment, and it wasn't until about two months after we got there that I felt I had the time to myself to start exercising again. I love to exercise. Or at least, I love to stay fit. Three years of being overweight when I was a just entering puberty instilled that need in me. I entered high school as a short, chubby, immature dork. I discovered exercise by my sophomore year and finished high school as captain of the swim team. It was a nice change. Girls finally noticed me. I was still a dork, but now I was a lean, muscular dork and it's amazing what a girl will overlook when confronted with a nice body. I'm 41 years old now, and it's a lot harder to maintain a nice body. I work out every day, and I still can't seem to find the bottom two abs in my six pack. But even so, I've managed to keep my wife interested, which is very important to me, because I'm a lot hornier than other men. And Christie is a lot hornier than other women, truth be told, but with three young kids wearing her out daily, we're on about a slightly-more-than-once-a-week schedule for sex. That's great compared to some couples our age, even couples younger than us, but I'm more like a slightly-more-than-once-a-day kind of guy. So, I masturbate a lot. And I look at other woman a lot. And I masturbate about other women a lot. But I had never been willing to do anything that would break my wedding vows until I met Emma. There are a lot of things you could point to as reasons why a loving husband might cheat on his wife. Some people would say it was a midlife crisis. After all, I did turn 40 only six months after I met Emma, before any of the more blatant flirting began. Some people might say it was the change in environment, that the move to a country foreign to me made me feel alienated and detached from my life before the big change. And related to this, my professional life was much more separate from my family life in this new location: whereas in the USA Christie had known my colleagues, in the Netherlands Christie had met my colleagues only a handful of times, and they were all younger than me and wrapped up in very different lifestyles than the lifestyle of diaper changes and bottles. And on top of all that, before the move I had been living a life of strict discipline stemming from a drug and alcohol abuse problem I had in my early twenties, and thirteen years of abstinence later, after thorough consideration with Christie, we had decided I could relax some of that self-restraint. This newfound freedom reawakened some of the hedonist in me - I had been so fucking good for so fucking long, now I was primed to follow feelings of pleasure wherever they might take me ... So yeah, you could list any number of specific details about the timing and context of it, and say that's why it happened. But at the risk of seeming like a hopeless romantic, I think Emma would have been irresistible to me at any time in my life. She was the reason. I liked her an unreasonable amount even the first time I met her. Emma worked at the gym. She showed me around my first day there, and it was really nice. Emma was local: a Dutch girl. Dutch girls are smoking hot. They are all tall with long legs and short skirts. They're all blondes or redheads, sometimes a mix of the two. I spent my first weeks in Amsterdam just dying to see a Dutch girl naked. I love a blonde pussy. I love a fiery-red pussy. The Dutch women ride along the canals on bicycles wearing those short skirts, and some, wonderful percentage of them either don't care or just outright enjoy letting you see up those skirts as they pedal by. It's a glorious tease. I love a good tease. Which was perfect, because Emma loved a good tease as well. At the time of writing this, I've never seen Emma in a skirt. I'd love to, but I've never even seen her outside of the gym. She always wears those loose, baggy workout pants at the gym. Her ass looks awesome in them: it presses out in all the right places, begging to be held, lifted, pulled back and parted to open her from behind. God, her ass! But as I was saying, I've never seen Emma in the typically Dutch short skirt, and further, Emma's not a blonde or a redhead, and Emma's not very tall either. After all my lust for iconic Dutch women, I fell for someone not at all typical. Emma has really rich, healthy-looking brown hair, with some sun-bleached strands that look too natural to be bottled highlights. I wouldn't call her short at all, just shorter than the average Dutch woman. I'm a bit above average height for an American, a little below average compared to Dutch men (they are so goddamn tall here), and Emma is about half-a-head shorter than me. I love the way she looks. She's slim and very toned, with perky breasts that would fill my cupped hands just perfectly. Her eyes kill me. Light blue-green, though the saturation of either color depends on the light. They look so good staring out of her olive complexion. And she's always staring. It's not a creepy stare, she's always just looking directly at me. She can hold eye-contact for days. I could go on, I'm infatuated with her, but you'll get to know her in good time. And so Emma welcomed me to the gym, asking me if it was my first time there. She started in Dutch, but flipped to English in a flash when I said I didn't understand. I told her I was new to this gym, but that I had been weight-lifting and exercising for many years and that I knew how to use all the equipment safely. Everyone must have a tour their first time there, she insisted, and I wasn't complaining. And this was the first thing that fascinated me about her. I felt a subtle vibe. I felt a mysterious chemistry. I felt attraction from her, but I couldn't put my finger on anything she did or said that signalled attraction. It was all business. She gave me the tour, politely, with warmth, but with no flirtation that I could identify. And still, I felt I was being flirted with. I'm reminded of an interview I once read with the actor Christopher Walken. He said that sometimes during his scenes, in those pauses in his lines, he will intentionally, as a part of his craft, ask in his mind what the other actor thinks of his hair. So for example, he's about to kill Dennis Hopper in True Romance, and he's questioning him first, considering torture, and in a pause as he looks at his victim, he asks, in his head "what do you think of my hair?" I think he called it subtext, I call it fucking fantastic. Emma might be like that. Maybe it was Emma's internal dialogue that I was picking up on, that vibe. Maybe that silent, direct look was her, internally, telling me that she was a raging inferno of sexual passion, and that she might just unleash that blaze on me if the moment took her. I wanted that moment. Fuck, I wanted that moment. Over the course of a year, with me there every morning working out, we developed a relationship somewhere between acquaintances and friends. We had time to chat here and there. She would sit a minute and watch me do deadlifts, asking how my work was going. I'd pause before leaving the gym to ask about her dance class, or to wish her luck on her motorcycle exam. I learned she was a thrill seeker. She was about to get her motorcycle license and had already identified a Ducati monster as her iron horse. She said the lines were feminine, and the sound was wonderful. I thought to myself that the sound of a motorcycle translates directly to how it feels between a woman's legs. I'd love to see her hit the throttle on that thing. Naked, with me holding her from behind... She was also into skydiving and bungee jumping. Not all the time, but any chance she got, really. She loved to travel, and spent three weeks on safari in Africa at the end of that first summer that I was in Amsterdam. She was cool. She was this cool chick who was hot, and open, and friendly, and who I could never quite believe was really flirting with me. Who I could never quite be certain was actually flirting with me. But I couldn't shake the feeling, and I didn't want to. We were flirting. Emma had a boyfriend, but we never really talked about him. One day, about three months after I had started working out at her gym, I told her I was married. It should have been more awkward than it was, because I kind of made a big deal out of it, like it was some sort of confession. Pulling her aside, just before I left, I told her I felt I had to tell her something, and that I was embarrassed. I said that for three months, as we'd been chatting, I had never once mentioned my family, and now I felt silly and kind of guilty, like I was trying to hide something. I kind of pushed the words all out in a row, rehearsed. I told her I was married, and that I just needed her to know it so I wouldn't feel like I was hiding it from her. I wasn't making a pass at her. I was actually just being honest - I did feel silly and guilty that I had never mentioned my wife and kids in three months of conversations. She seemed a little puzzled, and asked me if she had done anything to make me think she was coming on to me. And of course she hadn't. "Only in my fantasies." I said. Happy with my response. She laughed mildly. I said it was all no big deal and that I really felt silly saying something now, but I just needed to say it for my own comfort. I left feeling that maybe things would be a little awkward the next time I saw her. But really, nothing changed that day. ***** Months later, the flirting was real, even if I was still just as unsure as ever where that vibe was coming from. It was friendship flirting, but the vibe was still hot, pulsing sex. And then suddenly I was joking about her sending me a naked picture. It all had progressed so naturally. It was just about a bikini picture when the joke started. We were at the front of the gym where her desk was, and she was showing me a couple of pictures on her Facebook page. There were some from her trip to Africa, and I just wondered aloud if there were any bikini pictures. "There might be a couple, but I'm not showing you those." And suddenly I was excited. "Why not?" She was coy. I could feel it. She wanted to tease me a bit about being married. "You shouldn't be looking at any bikini pictures, and you know it." And suddenly that option was on the table. There was this movie she kept telling me to check out, but after I couldn't find a version with English subtitles, I had given up on it. She joked that it was my homework assignment, and at some point I joked back that if I ever remembered to watch it, I'd write a report and my reward should be getting to look at one of her bikini pictures. It was that innocent, and she laughed it off. And it didn't come up again for a while more, but the next time it did, I was all over it. "Have you watched the movie yet?" she asked. "Are you prepared to send me a picture of yourself in a bikini" I questioned in return. "Ok, Ok, I won't ask again." I could see a little exhilaration this time. I was being more aggressive and she liked it. And of course, one day she asked about the movie again. She had said she wouldn't, but I knew she would, and I was ready, and confident. She knew what my response would be. She wanted my response. So this time I held back just a little. "I know I should, I keep meaning too but I can't find a version with English subtitles." "I'll send you the link." She had found a version with English subtitles. She would need my email address. I had wanted to be able to email her for so long, but it made me nervous. My email was often left open on my computer at home; what if Christie happened to see a playful email from a woman she had never heard of? I wrote down my email address on a piece of paper. There was a lump in my throat as I did. When she sent me the link, I couldn't resist making a big play for the picture. I wanted to see more of her so badly. Her ass looked so good in those baggy pants, and the tight, shirts with low necklines drove me wild, but I wanted to see more of her skin. I wanted to be able to imagine running my tongue along her lower belly, kissing her bare thighs. I wanted to see her skin and I wanted her to want me to see her skin. I wanted her to want me to masturbate about her, and I wanted her to do something that showed that she wanted me to masturbate about her. I wanted her to intentionally, with full understanding, help make my fantasizing about sex with her that much more accurate... more intense. To be just slightly involved in it, by sending me the picture. I replied to her email: Please read the following instructions to avoid spam filters when emailing links to file-sharing websites. This is an automated message. The University of Amsterdam discourages proliferation of pirated files. However, if an email with a link to a file-sharing website also contained a sexy image of the sender, the spam filters will not be able to deny the recipient such an intense pleasure. Therefore please attach a picture of yourself in a very small bikini, lingerie, or possibly wearing a wet t-shirt or reclining in a bubble-bath to ensure that your email passes our filters. Full nudity is also accepted, and strongly encouraged... Failure to comply may result in the intended recipient never seeing that great movie you want him to see. It was bold. Yes, it should have been in Dutch, but I don't speak Dutch and writing it in English made the joke more self-deprecating. But it was so much more than a joke about a bikini picture. It insinuated that I would pleasure myself while looking at the picture, and it asked for more than just a bikini, with emphasis on sexy. It was a large step beyond any flirting we had engaged in before, and I was nervous about both her reaction, and about how far I was willing to go in my flirtation with her. It was blatant. It would make Christie furious if she found out. It was funny, Emma would like that. Could it just be considered funny? I sent it. She replied with a big smiley face, but no picture. That was enough to fill me with giddiness. She hadn't slapped me down. She liked it. It was funny, but it was heavily flirtatious. We were at a new level and she was enjoying being there. The next time I saw her at the gym she told me that she had actually looked through a bunch of her pictures to find one to send. She had been so close, but had held back. But telling me that, it was pretty much as flirtatious as sending a picture. Now she had admitted she wanted to. She admitted she wanted me lusting over a sexy picture of her. And so now it would be that much easier for me to keep asking her for it. And I did. And eventually she asked me what she would get in return. She was wearing her typical baggy workout pants, but with a form-fitting black shirt that had a low neckline so that the tops of her breasts spilled out a bit when she leaned forward. And she was leaning forward now, standing over me as I stretched on the floor. I laughed, turning my face down again to avoid her catching me drooling over her cleavage. I said I was sure she didn't want a dick-pic. And before she answered I went on. "You would get the satisfaction of knowing that you had given me very intense pleasure..." I looked back up at her, trying to match how direct she always was, and dared to say more. "...Intense pleasure while looking at that picture, in private.' I couldn't stop my quirky, half-embarrassed, half-confident, all-horny smile from surfacing, but I think she liked it. "What would you want?" I asked in response to her silence, surprised at myself that I hadn't asked right away. The phone on her desk rang. "Saved by the bell," she said, and walked away. ***** I had been dying to kiss her, to touch her for so long, when she told me her birthday was coming up. "That will be a good excuse to finally kiss you." I said. "You could do that." She said back, immediately. It's no big deal really. The Dutch greet family and close friends with three kisses, on alternate cheeks, and it's about as sexy as a handshake. But it would be a hell of a lot sexier between her and me. We had never touched at that point, ever. Not at all. Ok, maybe a shoulder pat once, I guess, but I think that was it. But if I got a chance to kiss her cheeks, I was going to linger. I would put my hands on her hips. I would inhale her. I would probably get hard, I knew. She was absent for five days straight around her birthday, taking a small vacation. I missed her terribly at my morning gym sessions. After two days, I e-mailed her, just to be in touch. Just to confirm again that I was going to kiss her. I couldn't wait to kiss her: Hi Emma, I hope you have wonderful birthday! x Mike It was nothing. Short and lame. Needy almost, I felt embarrassed about it. But the little x was there to remind her: I was coming for that kiss It was all about how she replied, and it couldn't have been better: Thanks Mike, see you Tuesday! X Emma It took my breath away. A capital X!! She had held down that shift key to give me the big X (or autocorrect had made it capital, but fuck that, it was her intention). She had made it capital. She wanted a big kiss! My head was spinning. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was in the shower when I had an especially amazing masturbation session about her. It was unusual for me, because my masturbation fantasies are almost always about a girl getting me off: fucking, or a girl using her mouth or her tits or her hands or all of the above on me. But this was about me getting Emma off. And I came so hard. This difference fascinated me. I wanted to share the fantasy with her. ***** When Emma returned to work I got my three Dutch kisses, and they were very nice. And I could tell they were very nice for her too. But they were fast and public. I wanted the big kiss but there was no privacy. I told her so. "I wanted to kiss you on the lips." "But you didn't have the balls?" Harsh, she was teasing me. "I didn't have the privacy." That gave her pause. I went on: "Do you have the balls to follow me into the bathroom?" The bathroom in the gym was unisex, with a common sink area, and then separate stalls for men and woman. We had never been alone in that bathroom before. "No, I'm not brave enough." For the first time since I had known her, she seemed timid. For just that second, she was vulnerable and scared. But as always, direct and honest. She wanted that kiss, but it seemed like it was a dangerous thing to do. I let it go. I tried to finish my work-out with a half hard-on pushing against my thigh. I knew for sure now that I turned this woman on. She was lusting for me even as I was lusting for her. But she was still more measured than me, more reserved, more skittish. She was staying a little more "good" than I was. She had a boyfriend. I was married. This was fun, but it was not something she wanted to engage in with complete abandon. I liked that. I wasn't that much beyond where she was at that point. At that point, the kiss was all I wanted. A Glorious Tease Ch. 01 The kiss was as far as I was willing to go, but that was already farther than I ever imagined I would go outside of my marriage. And the urge to have more of her was growing. I was losing control, and I wanted her to lose it too. I wanted to make her lose control over me, and I felt like I could. I felt like sharing that shower fantasy would do it. I could write it for her. I could write it for her and make her cum, and make her as crazy for me as I was for her. "I thought about getting you a present for your birthday. But, well, you know..." Lame, I was not off to a good start, bringing up the discomfort and inappropriateness of a married man buying a young woman he flirts with a gift. But I kept going. "I had this really incredible fantasy about you the other day. About kissing you for your birthday. I thought about writing it down and giving it to you." We had already covered masturbation in our conversations implicitly, so it wasn't that shocking to her that I spoke of fantasizing about her explicitly now. "Maybe if you had done that, I would have had the courage to follow you into the bathroom." She was so direct and unblinking. Looking right into me. "Maybe I will then, and maybe I'll get that private kiss, eventually." And then I was out the door, embarrassed and feeling guilty. But motivated. Feeling very motivated. I was going to write something so intense for her. It took me four days: I'm usually still thinking about you when I'm in the shower after a workout, and so one of my favorite fantasies is about you slipping into the shower with me. I'm all soapy and hard, and your hands are everywhere and I'm finally seeing you naked, and I'm feeling you against me... I don't let myself get too "into" that fantasy when I'm in the gym shower, of course, because there is no privacy (though the thought of you being just upstairs makes it tempting). But at home I can find the privacy to really, really enjoy imagining you with me. Last Friday morning I was in the shower at my home, thinking about you, but not imagining you in the shower with me. I was thinking about that kiss. That big, capital X you put in your e-mail. It affected me like a promise: "You are going to get a great big, wet kiss from me." it seemed to say. I couldn't resist the idea. I told myself that would be the line, the last line I would cross. One kiss. One electric kiss, quick, but not too quick. Just a tantalizing, brief taste of you, and that would be the memory. That would be the extent of the infidelity and the everlasting wet dream. I was rubbing soap all over my body, and getting big, and just imagining. What would it be like? How would it happen? Obviously I couldn't kiss you on the lips like that in front of the whole gym. A lot of people there know I'm married with kids, and I'm sure a few know that you have a boyfriend. It would be scandalous. But I thought you wanted that kiss, and so how did you want it to happen? I imagined that first it would just be the three Dutch kisses (that was so nice). I imagined stepping back and looking at you after, the desire for more showing on your face, showing on my face. I imagined. The tension from those three little kisses leaves me tongue-tied for a second, and so I just smile at you and go into the bathroom to fill my water bottle. I'm trembling just slightly, the smell of your hair and the feel of your cheek against my lips still with me. A half minute later, you come in. And we're alone. You take just one step into the room, the door closed behind you. We're close, in that small room, but I'm still facing the sink, gripping the edge tightly, trying to contain my lust. I look at you silently, and you look back at me with those eyes. You are so beautiful; you are so sexy. You stand easily, with confidence, looking calm but I can see some of the arousal you are feeling. And you speak first: "You gave me goose bumps with those kisses." (I loved it when you told me I gave you goose bumps). I turn toward you. "Let me feel," I say, and I reach out my right hand and touch your bare arm. The tiny hairs are raised like lightning is about to strike. I have so many reasons not to do anything, but I can't stop myself from moving even closer. Now I'm standing at your right side, very close, and you are suddenly breathing hard, but you don't move away. I'm facing you, from beside you, my chest against your shoulder and my breath touching your upper neck behind your ear. My left hand moves gently to your lower back, and my right hand moves from your arm to your belly. Your heart is beating so hard I can feel it through your skin, but you are still. I know you're conflicted too. I know you want to kiss, you want to turn and melt into me, but for now, you are so torn between passion and commitment that you don't move. You just let me touch you, breathless. And I can't stop. "I want to feel more." I whisper. My voice is low and thick and you feel my words rumble against the side of your face. I smell good, clean, but like a man. My hand moves down your belly and dips under your clothes. You close your eyes. I go right down, and I feel you there. You gasp. My fingers press gently against the opening. You are already so wet. You don't think you've ever gotten so wet, so fast before. I groan, half a growl. I want to be inside you so badly. But I'm married and you are taken and we are in the bathroom and this is your job and anyone could walk in at any second... So I slowly start to pull my hand out. My fingers are slippery and as they retreat they give your clitoris just the lightest, slickest caress. I'm tortured by how much I want to keep my hand there. How much I want to taste you there, but I know that I have to stop now. What we are doing is crazy, I know, and so I continue to take my hand away... But you grab my wrist with both your hands, and you keep me there. We've come this far and now you don't want me to stop. I'm completely overcome by your action. By our mutual passion. We are risking so much for this moment. Some of the people out there in the gym are probably suspicious already: they've seen our body language, they've overheard things. Another member could come and interrupt us at any second, all jealous and indignant. Your boss could come looking for you... But... For just a few seconds longer... You want me there so badly, and neither of us can resist. I let my hand go lower again. You turn your head toward me and our lips meet, finally. Like torrential, hot rain after a drought. It feels so good that we momentarily forget that there is anything else at all. I'm lost in the taste and the feel of your mouth. I want to consume you completely, everywhere. Your tongue presses against mine, and you part your legs a little more, urging me into you. I move in and out slowly, savoring the feel of you. My other hand reaches around your back to your opposite side, moving up your torso to massage your breast. You break our kiss for a moment to breathe deeply. You're almost dizzy with pleasure. My mouth and tongue move to your neck for a moment before returning to your lips. Below, my fingers dance with your clitoris, moving it in slow, easy circles, and then dipping low again to go into you. I'm worshipping you with my hand, exploring in wonder, playing with a purpose: I want you to cum. I'm so hard, feeling you. You still hold my wrist with your left hand, but now your right hand reaches towards me to feel the outline of my cock in my pants. It's straining against the fabric, pushing outward with so much force. You wrap your hand around as much of it as you can, stroking and squeezing lightly, but you can't concentrate enough to get it out of my pants. You don't want anything to be different, right now. You want everything exactly like this. My body so close, my mouth on yours, my cock in your hand, my wrist gripped tight in your other hand, my fingers... my hand... my fingers. You are quickly approaching orgasm. And you would want more, if there was time. You would want us both naked, want me all over your body, want me in your mouth, and deep into your center, but you know there is no time for anything more than this, and this is so intense and perfect. And so you let yourself go, and you start to cum in enormous waves of physical bliss, your mouth still on mine as you moan into me and my hand is soaked and my cock is throbbing through my pants in your hand like it might burst, and you squeeze and you shudder and shake and kiss me so hard as your orgasm just continues on and on and on and on, and I've never been so turned on in my life. And at home, in my shower, with every muscle flexed tight in a spasm of gratification, I explode into the air. Four days of writing and editing and writing and editing to get the story just how I wanted it. I must have read it over twenty times, making small edits here and there. For three nights straight I jerked-off thinking about it. It was hot. She would find it so hot. This was going to make her cum, I knew it would. Could I really send this? This was crossing a line much further on than flirting with a woman who was not my wife: This was seduction. Hell, this was foreplay. I attached it to an e-mail. I put in her address. My mouse cursor hovered over the "send" button. I thought of my wife and kids. This is bad. I moved the cursor to "discard". I thought of my kids trying to understand why their parents were getting divorced. I thought of my wife's pain and anger as she confronted me about some mistake I had made that revealed it all to her. I didn't click the mouse button. I just stayed there over "discard". I knew what the right thing to do was. And I knew that the wrong thing wasn't always irredeemable. I thought of lifting Emma onto my hard cock, sliding into her hot, tight, wet, wet, wet pussy, my lips on her lips... I clicked "send". It was done. She would be coming for me now. ***** Emma's reaction was short, but it spoke volumes. I opened her email: Holy Fuck, Mike! Great writing! I don't know what else to say right now... That was it, but I never heard her swear before, or say Holy-anything, and she had written my name right in the middle of it. She was affected. I got her. I felt a momentary break from the longing. I felt satisfied, happy, ecstatic. I knew I had made her cum. I knew I had made her want me, at least during the reading, like I wanted her. By the next day, I wanted even more. She was flushed when I saw her. Whatever attraction she had felt towards me before, now it was larger, more insistent. And it was turned a thousand fold onto me. Whatever she felt for me just multiplied what I felt for her, practically paralyzing me. I can't even remember my workout session that day. All I remember is my heart beating so hard and loud, and my voice feeling thick and clumsy. I fumbled for words whenever we talked, and she blushed at almost anything I said. I was half-hard the whole time, and I could tell she was wet. I don't remember leaving. Time with her was like being in a hurricane, thundering, powerful, frightening and exciting; time without her was a grey blur of waiting. ***** And then it was that evening, and the stars had aligned. Someone up there wanted me to see something... Christie had gone out with her girlfriends. My kids were all in bed. Emma was alone at her apartment: no boyfriend because she had an early morning. We were, for the first time, chatting over e-mail. I still wanted a picture... At some point that morning Emma told me that, like me, she also enjoyed writing erotic prose. That blew me away. I had worried that my writing would be just a little nerdy to her, but it turned out that not only did she appreciate that form of sexual expression, she engaged in it too. And so we found ourselves in e-mail contact, as we both sat alone in our homes simultaneously working on our respective erotic writing: fantasies we had about each other. She was out there, imagining sex with me and writing it down. I was imagining sex with her and writing it down. And every few minutes we'd fire off a line to one another. And she was hungry for more from my dirty mind: Any chance for a preview of your next story? I was halfway through a second piece, a little racier than the first, but one that started off from where the first had ended. I replied. Sure, if you send me a sexy picture. And finally, one came. She was coming out of the ocean at night, stepping into the light of a beach fire. It was a little blurry - someone had caught her on their phone - but it was the sexiest thing I ever saw in my life. She was half turned away, but with her face oriented to notice the picture being taken, with a half-surprised and indignant look. The other half of the look was all self-aware exhilaration that someone was catching just how sexy she looked at that moment on camera. She was wearing a lacy white thong and bra that were probably see-through when wet, but the lighting didn't allow that detail. But the white bra against the black night showed hard nipples pointing outward. And her wet thong clung to her pelvis in a way that told me she was shaved bare down there. I was so hard. I sent her part of the first paragraph of my newest piece: That moment, in the bathroom, it happened. My cock had never been so full. It almost hurt as you squeezed it through your orgasm, but not enough to make me want you to stop squeezing. I felt like my hard-on would never go down again. I could cum so quickly, I knew, if you pulled me out of my pants and just gave me one or two strokes I would blast out all over the floor, all over your hand and on to your body. But that would make a very difficult predicament considering where we were, and we had already been out of sight for several minutes. And fighting with my own need for release, I had this overwhelming desire to go down on you and taste all that wetness. I wanted to be there with my whole face, my tongue, my lips... bury them into you and suck and lick and swallow and kiss. You were still pressed against me, riding out the last few crests of your orgasm, grinding against my hand, so amazingly wet it was driving me insane. Her reply drove me wild: Oh my God I love it! If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a shower now. And I will be thinking of you as I soap up my breasts, my thighs, and my belly. And then as I rinse, I'm going to move my hand down slowly between my legs... I'm going to let my fingers tease my clit a bit, pretending they're yours, before slipping them inside my wet pussy. Wet for you. Gushing for you. I'm going to cum all over my hand while thinking about you. It was so hot, and I was panting, but she was leaving the chat and so I was also devastated Don't go. Let me see you. I want to see your face right now: turned on. She hadn't left yet. I had e-mailed back just in time. You can't see me. I don't have a webcam... Were we bartering? Send me another picture. Right now, with your phone, send me your face as you look right now. I want to see you hot for me. I want to see you so badly. We were bartering. What will you do for me? I would do anything: Anything. She had something in mind. I want to see you look at me. I want to see you enjoy looking at me. I turned my webcam on and sent a link of where to find me. Send me the picture. She teased. Not yet, enjoy the first one now. Let me SEE. I adjusted my laptop so my whole upper body was in view from my lap to my face. I took off my shirt, and unzipped my pants. I couldn't see her, but she could see me as my cock sprung from my clothes like a wild animal breaking its cage. I was really hard. I resized the picture to fit half my screen, and kept my e-mail open on the other half. I started stroking my dick. I was so turned on, there was no embarrassment at all, just lust. And apparently she approved: You look good. I was flattered, and I stroked a little faster. I was in love with the photo, typing with one hand as I stroked with the other. You look amazing in that photo. I could spend a lifetime licking the skin just above the waistband of that thong. There was no answer for a while, and I got more absorbed in the picture, in touching myself and imagining worshiping that body of hers. I want to see you cum. She was going to. I told her: You will. I imagined her playing with her pussy at her home, watching me. Eyes on my massive erection. Wet noises as she moved her fingers quickly in and out of herself. I'm going to cum too. I'm so wet watching you. I wish I was there, licking your balls. Kissing your thighs, flicking my tongue against the head of your dick, touching your chest. I was so close. My eyes darted back and forth between her writing and her photo. Every time my inbox beeped with a new e-mail I almost came. I was going to cum right there in front of her, and it was going to be huge. I couldn't see her. For all I knew she was watching and laughing with a group of friends, but it didn't matter. She was saying all the right things and showing me all the right things to bring me to a massive orgasm. My inbox beeped again. There was no text, but a picture attachment. I clicked on it. Half my screen filled up with a close-up picture of a very wet, shaved pussy. There was wetness dripping out of it. It was a pussy in the middle of being masturbated. Her lips were open and blushing, slick and inviting. Her clit was engorged. It was clutching, sucking, begging for contact. As soon as I realized what I was seeing I starting to cum uncontrollably. I wasn't ready. The first stream of ejaculate landed in a wet line across my chest and stomach. She was seeing this, rubbing herself off. Two more spurts splashed upward across my body and then several more gushes overflowed out to drip down my fingers as my hand continued to pump up and down. I shook violently, grunting and groaning like I was enduring medieval torture. But it was bliss. And she was watching. Another email came that was clearly one-handed and careless: i cum too nowwwwwwwwwww... wwwwwwwwwwwwww... wwwwwwwwwwwww I just kept stroking my cock, my orgasm refusing to die, my cum lubricating the whole thing, keeping it feeling just divine. My eyes rolled back in my head, it was too good. It was several long minutes before I regained my composure. I e-mailed her again in gratitude. That was amazing. That was so hot, I came so hard. You are out-of-this-world sexy. I sat there for over ten minute before I got a reply. The last picture wasn't me. It was just something I found on the internet. I was hurt. I was dumbfounded. Of course it was her. It had to be her. It was her pussy, she sent me. Why did she suddenly want to take it away? Oh come on! It was you. I know it was yours. Why are you playing now? No answer. I waited over an hour. It was after midnight when I accepted that no response was coming. She had taken it back. Why? Second thoughts? Guilt? Why? It was so amazing, why did she want to take it back? And this was just the first experience with Emma. It only got more confusing, and it only got more complicated, and it only got hotter. Holy fuck did it ever get hotter. A Glorious Tease Ch. 02 EDIT: 28-November-2014 I changed just a few lines/parts of this story - nothing major. Still working on chapter 3... Preamble: Chapter one of this story is only two pages (slightly less than two, actually). In it, you get the background and build-up to the current situation, and two erotic scenes as well, all of which builds up to the climaxes in this chapter and in future chapters. I strongly suggest you read chapter one first, but if you're in a rush to get to your own climax, and two pages that don't align perfectly with your favorite story tags is just too much, then I'll give you a brief summary: My name is Mike and I work at a University in Amsterdam. I'm completely infatuated with a young woman named Emma who works at the University sports center as a fitness trainer and weight room manager. I'm American, average height with a muscular build, brown hair and brown eyes. Emma is Dutch, but speaks perfect English, and does not look like a typical Dutch woman. Rather than being tall, blonde and pale, Emma is about a half a head shorter than me, has brown hair with blonde highlights, and a tan, olive complexion. Her eyes are very light blue-green. They're gorgeous. Both Emma and I are very fit. Emma is slim and toned, with perky breasts that are probably about a B-cup (Emma once told me she thinks it's lame when women wear bras that pad their breasts: she's content with hers exactly as they are). And Emma's ass is sensational. I've been with a lot of women, and I have never loved an ass as much as I love Emma's ass. At the time of writing this, I've actually cupped that incredible ass. It's making me hard right now just thinking of it again. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Emma has a boyfriend, and I'm married with three young children. My wife's name is Christie. Emma and I were acquaintances/friends for a long time before, very suddenly, our relationship exploded into an intense and explicit flirtation. I wrote out a fantasy that I had about her, and sent it to her as a gift. She loved it, which started me falling in love with her. At the end of chapter 1 we were both alone at our homes (Christie was out with friends, and my kids were in bed) and we were chatting over e-mail. In return for a sexy picture, Emma convinced me to let her watch me masturbate over the webcam while staying hidden herself. When I was getting close to orgasm, she sent a second photo, naked, close-up between her legs. It made me cum immediately. She came watching me, but then when we were through she said the second picture wasn't of her, and cut off contact. I guess it was the guilt, or maybe it was some streak of cruelty, but it left me hurt and confused and frustrated, and still lusting for her more intensely than I had ever lusted for anyone in my life before her. Chapter 2 It was three days before I saw Emma again. She hadn't responded to any of my e-mails. I called it "radio silence." Like policemen or soldiers, asserting radio silence to keep the channels clear and to avoid giving away their position. Emma's radio silence seemed like that: she didn't want to give herself away. It felt cold, but I knew that it didn't necessarily indicate a lack of passion for me. She was not very forthcoming even in person. For all I knew, she could be silently checking her e-mail every hour for something from me. She could be thinking of me, wanting me, re-reading my fantasy and masturbating again and again to the thought of me with my hands on her, my fingers inside her. She just wasn't e-mailing me. I arrived at the gym the following Tuesday morning (Emma didn't work on Monday mornings) with my emotions in turmoil, but that turmoil calmed the moment I saw her: at that first smile. I saw the smallest acknowledgement in her eyes that yes, she had not responded to me and she had tried to take back what happened with our chat session the previous Friday, but I also saw the happiness and excitement she felt at seeing me. She was as in to me as ever: the radio silence was not cold. I decided to let her bring it up, and just offered a casual greeting. "Hi Emma, nice to see you. How was your weekend?" She told me about her weekend, and didn't mention Friday night. She had her motorcycle course on Saturday morning and told me about a close call when she had to hit the throttle hard on an exit ramp to beat a truck to the outside lane of the highway She asked about my weekend, and I said it started very well, but then it kind of turned to shit. She smiled, but didn't say anything else, and so I left it alone and went to begin my work out. When I lift weights, I usually rest about two minutes between every set of repetitions, depending on the exercise. I spend that two minutes changing the weight, drinking or filling my water bottle, and just looking around. My eyes typically end up on Emma. It's nice to look at her, but it's also my way of trying to call her over to me. I always want to be talking to her, so I'm always trying to make eye contact, trying to will her to me. Sometimes it works. The gym wasn't that busy, and Emma made her way over to me in response to my pained smile. I was doing shoulder presses at the rack, and she sat down on one of the crossbars in front of me. "So your weekend turned to shit?" I already wished I had approached it differently. I wished I could have been cooler, more aloof and distant. Uncaring. But I cared. "Why'd you say it wasn't yours? Why'd you cut me off?" I sounded like such an asshole, to myself. Why was I asking? I knew the answer to my question: I was fucking married, and she had a boyfriend. It was obvious. I had no grounds for misunderstanding, but I still felt like I didn't understand. "It wasn't mine. I just wanted to send you something to tease you. I know it's mean, but I really like getting you all worked up and frustrated." Her eyes flicked down to my shorts, for a second, a guilty search for visual evidence that my cock was in there, reacting to her. "Yes, you're very good at that, and I love it. And I hate it. But mostly I love it." She started with a big smile, but it faltered and turned sad as she resolved to say something she knew she had to say. "I don't want to feel this way, I can't control it. I love my boyfriend. You are married. You drive me crazy because I would never do anything like this, but I'm doing it, and it makes me so wet. But I don't want to do it. I don't want to do this. We went too far, and I don't want to let it happen again." It was the most Emma had ever said to me in one breath. Internally, I called bullshit when she said the last picture wasn't her again, but I decided to let it go - there were more important issues she was raising. And I knew how she felt. I didn't want this either. Or did I? I was struggling too, trying to figure out what I could do and why I was letting myself do anything at all. The level of flirting was way over the line, and if Christie found out about the chat I would be facing divorce right now... But we hadn't actually touched, sexually. Just three Dutch kisses. Just a hand on each hip. That was it. And though I wanted so much more, I was, at that moment, not prepared to do much more. It was hard to explain myself to her without it feeling like an attempt at manipulation. "I know, Emma. I know I should feel guilty, but I don't. I mean, we haven't really done anything that bad yet. It's just a bit of fun. It's naughty fun, and we could get in big trouble, but it's still just a bit of fun. I'm a very sexual person. It's part of my identity, and it always has been, and yet I feel like it's been... choked, or stunted in marriage. This thing with us is exhilarating and empowering - I feel free and... just... more like me." Emma wanted to be convince, but she didn't want it to be easy. "It's so unfair. One minute I don't care and I just want to climb all over you, and then the next minute I feel terrible. I can't make up my mind. I can't just decide not to want you." Under different circumstances, I would have been so pleased to hear Emma talk about wanting me. But this felt like a break up. I was weak with desire, weak with the need not to lose this. My words lost some of their strength. "I just keep thinking that this is so fun, and... you only get one life. I'm not religious. I don't think we're being that bad at all as long as we keep the risk of hurting other people as low as we can... As long as we don't cross any of the really important lines. And for you... I mean... You're not even married..." I trailed off, feeling manipulative and I didn't want to manipulate. But I was being honest, I really didn't think Emma had much to feel guilty about At 26 years old, Emma was at that time in her life where she was thinking of settling with someone for a future together. Her body was telling her to explore her options. She had two attractive males competing for her affection. And of course, he was winning, because he was available and I was not. But maybe it was close, and so she had to investigate a little. It seemed only natural to me. But then, what was my excuse? I had never even come close to cheating on my wife before. If you asked any of my wife's friends or family members about me, they would tell you that I was the most amazing, loving, and supportive husband, and that Christie and I had the strongest, happiest marriage of anyone they know. And right up until the moment I asked Emma for a sexy picture, they would have been 100 percent right. Right up until then. But I still think I'm a good person. I'm just a little bit bad too. But I couldn't convince Emma to be comfortable being a little bit bad. She felt my attempt at manipulation and came back with force. "But what are the important lines? It doesn't matter, every line we cross will make it harder not to cross the next one. We have to stop this." I knew she was right. She was wise where I was being foolish. Her words were slapping me, gently but firmly, and they just kept coming. "I was going to be mean to you today. I was going to say something harsh and end it beyond a doubt but I can't do it like that. You make me crazy. I want you so badly, but I want to stop this. I'm not strong enough to stop on my own, I need your help. Please help me to stop this." What could I say? Now she was a woman in need, and a woman I felt so strongly about. I couldn't do anything but help her. I had to agree. "Ok, ok. I'll try to stop too. But I don't think I'm any stronger than you. Much weaker, in fact, because I've done more than you, and the things I've done I've done with more reasons not to. But ok. I don't want you to feel guilty. I don't want you to ever feel bad about anything that happened between us." I was so disappointed, but determined to do the right thing, if not on the power of my own considerations, then on the power of mine and hers added together. ***** We managed to go two days without talking about sex. I was being so good. We were both being good, keeping our conversations so superficial and bland. I think we discussed the weather about four times in those two days. It was extraordinarily difficult and painful, to have so much I wanted to say and so much I wanted to hear and so much I wanted to do, and to deny it all. When the topic of writing came up, it could have been innocent. I write for my work at the University. I also write scripts for online erotic video games (a new hobby - just a few so far, see my profile for details), and I had confessed my hobby to Emma when we first discussed our mutual interest in erotic writing. I didn't have to go immediately to the second fantasy that I had written over the previous weekend, but I couldn't keep a lid on it, it came out. "I finished that second fantasy." And Emma couldn't help but pursue the conversation: she was as hooked on my writing as I was on her. "Do you want me to read it?" I was nervous about the second fantasy. It had elements that made it seem a riskier piece than the first. "I want to... but... it's not as... standard as the first one. I mean, the first one wasn't really anything out of the ordinary, in terms of the actual sex act, but this next one... it's a little kinkier and I'm scared you won't like it. I mean, I really think you'll love it, but I'm scared that you won't." The more uncertain I seemed about it, the more curious she was. But she hadn't asked me for it. She had asked if I wanted her to read it, but not asked to see it. "I'm curious." That may have been as close to outright asking as she was going to get. But I wanted a definite action. "Do you want me to send it to you?" She knew she hadn't asked yet. She actually paused. She deliberated. If I had sent it without asking, she could have still chosen not to read it, or chosen to read it, but with slightly less responsibility. She knew asking was a bigger step, and it was only three days ago that we had agreed to stop this. But it was just a piece of writing... Finally she nodded. "Yes, send it to me." It didn't necessarily mean that we were flirting again. There was no other provocative talk that day. No compliments from me on how great she looked, no poses from her that gave me a peek at her cleavage or at her bare midsection as she raised her arms and her shirt rose a little with them. The actual, direct flirtation could still be over. Maybe it was still over. That evening, before I cleaned up the dinner dishes and while Christie was upstairs putting the kids to bed, I re-read and edited the piece one more time. I swallowed hard, and then sent it. I had worked so hard on it and was trying to do so much with it, but it could completely fail. ***** That moment, in the bathroom, it happened. My cock had never been so full. It almost hurt as you squeezed it through your orgasm, but not enough to make me want you to stop squeezing. I felt like my hard-on would never go down again. I could cum so quickly, I knew, if you pulled me out of my pants and just gave me one or two strokes I would blast out all over the floor, all over your hand and on to your body. But that would make a very difficult predicament considering where we were, and we had already been out of sight for several minutes. And fighting with my own need for release, I had this overwhelming desire to go down on you and taste all that wetness. I wanted to be there with my whole face, my tongue, my lips, bury them into you and suck and lick and swallow and kiss. You were still pressed against me, riding out the last few crests of your orgasm, grinding against my hand, so amazingly wet it was driving me insane. Your kisses became more relaxed, breaking into many smaller connections, tender but still lustful. You turned into me, and put both hands around me, one under my arm and up to my back, and the other at my lower back, moving up and then down low, squeezing my pelvis into you as I reluctantly pulled my hand from your pants, and then less reluctantly wrapped my arms around you too, at your waist. We held each other tight for a second, lightly kissing, but my kisses were still so hungry, my cock throbbing hard against your belly. Time kept rumbling forward. We have to stop now. We have to leave the bathroom. We're going to get caught. I shift my weight and you loosen the embrace and look up at me. I tilt my head toward the door, starting to suggest who should leave first, but you cut me off. "I want you to cum in my mouth." And that almost sends me over the edge right there. If we get caught here, it will be you who gets into the most trouble, and yet you won't let anything keep you from what you want. There is only us. You don't care about anything else at all right now, and I don't either. Your words, and the full realization that you will stop at nothing to return the pleasure I gave you, it builds my orgasm right back up to the breaking point. You step back and reached down to rub my cock through my pants again. But I'm barely managing to keep control as it is. I don't want to cum before I get to feel your mouth, so I tilt my hips back, pulling away slightly. I give you a look, and your face, for a second all surprised and confused at my withdrawal turns sly and amused and very, very aroused as you understand. "Is it that easy?" You reach out for my shaft again, and I intercept your hand, holding it gently. "No, I want to be in your mouth, please, take me in your mouth." You keep smiling, delighted. You fully intend to put your mouth on me, but now you are suddenly filled with a second overwhelming desire to see me cum just like that: too soon. You want to see me lose control despite the promise of so much more. You feel so powerful and sexy. You give me a huge smile and slowly move to a crouch in front of me, pulling my pants down as you do. My cock springs free and bounces slightly as it pops back to a rigid, vertical position. You take a nice, long, close-up look. I'm circumcised; the skin around the head is taught. It's not as well-trimmed as most young men keep theirs, but it's a nice-looking cock, a nice size. You're mouth waters just slightly, and you want to kiss and lick and suck it, but the teasing is such a turn on. You rub your hands back up the outsides of my thighs, gazing at my cock, feeling the muscles in my legs all tight. You grab my ass, wanting to pull me forward into you, but... the tease. The tease is filling you up with such heat. You lick your lips and look up at me. My face is open and wanting. I wince in pleasure at your beautiful, sexy smile and the way you are showing off your tongue. You love seeing all that want for you in my face. Without breaking eye contact, you take your right hand from my ass and trail the fingers lightly down the front of my thigh. And still holding my eyes, you slip your hand into your pants and start to play a little. I moan out some unintelligible words. I'm shaking my head slightly. You're just too impossibly hot. I'm going to fucking cum just standing here, watching you rub your pussy in anticipation of sucking me off. It's driving me crazy. You touch yourself, and feel all that wetness now, marvelling at how much you gushed just a few moments before. And you marvel that you know you could do it again already. You slip your fingers inside yourself, and slowly move your mouth forward toward my aching, aching, aching cock. I can hardly breathe as I watch you move forward so slowly, so sexy. Every millisecond is a year. The dam is bursting. I've never, ever, held an insistent orgasm off for so long. It's taking all my will. I want to feel you first. I want to feel you there. But it strains in empty air. You enjoy my struggle, you savor it. Will I go off before you get there? Before you even touch it? The thought occurs to you that if I did it would probably spray into your hair and against your face, but at this moment, despite the dirty connotations that kind of ending has, you know it would be your victory, and you would revel in it. In fact, rubbing your clit now, getting faster already, you think it might make you cum again. Ten centimeters away, you let your tongue stretch forward out of your mouth, reaching just a little towards the head of my penis. You look up at me again, and I look back at you with adulation, showing you all my passionate need. I'm at your mercy. Wanting more than I've ever wanted before. The exertion of keeping still and holding it all in is making me close my eyes tight for seconds at a time, my mouth is open and panting, my fists are clenched. I don't trust my hands to be on you now, because I would never force a woman forward, so I just wait in agony, dying to feel your hot mouth engulf me and then I'll let go with sweet, earth-shattering release. A Glorious Tease Ch. 02 You keep your eyes locked on mine, leaning into me just a millimeter at a time. And you know now for sure: you want me to cum before you even touch it. Your clit is loving your absent-minded movements. You're going to cum when I cum. It could be a mess, but you could get cleaned up enough in here, and you just don't care about anything else. You want it to happen. You'd feel so naughty all day, talking to people with some little mark on your shirt or somewhere, reminding you of breaking me. Reminding you of how you climaxed so powerfully while you broke me. You are gushing wet and your fingers feel so good and you know you're definitely going to cum again, and it's going to be very big again. Your grip my hip with your left hand, holding yourself steady as you rise slightly so that your tongue is level with the end of me, still three centimeters away, and you pause. I can feel your breath, the tip of your tongue is so close. You're rubbing your clit faster now, giving me every chance to cum before you touch me. Imagining what it would look like. The head is pointing almost straight up. You imagine seeing the first big movement along the shaft and an enormous, white hot geyser erupting upward. You imagine feeling it touch your hair. A hot splash against your cheek and lips, the taste of it on your tongue, and a slow drip off your chin to land softly on your breast and thigh below. It thrills you. Just that first burst, and then you will cover me with your mouth, giving me that hot wetness, feeling the rest of me flood into your mouth. You want to see that gratitude, that ecstasy on my face. You will own me. You are so close to cumming again, panting hard. You are one centimeter away, tempted to touch me just ever so lightly on the underside of the head with your tongue, but no, not yet. You can see me losing the battle with my body. One little push from you and I'll be over the edge, and you want your words to do it. You smile as you start to cum again. "Let go for me. Cum for me. Cum into my mouth. I want you on my tongue... I'm cumming again now... Cum... With... Me..." And I groan so hard. And the door handle moves. We both know instantly and react with the speed of athletes. Your hand comes out of your pants and you let yourself fall back to sit on the floor. I grab the door to the stall and fall into the girl's toilet area, pants still around my ankles. The exit opens outward into the gym, so that we're already exposed to the people in the near vicinity if they happen to look this way. I pull the door to the toilet closed behind me with my foot under the handle. Just before I'm out of sight, I see you reach for your shoe like you are sitting to tie the laces. There is a second of tense silence, and then I hear a man's voice in the doorway. I had practically slammed the door closed, he must have heard that. He says something in Dutch, and I can tell it's a question. You say something back, and even in another language I can hear the sex in your voice. I can hear that you are holding down a second monumental explosion. I know that man out there can hear it too. Who is it? There are several really good-looking guys in the gym this morning. A couple that I've seen you look at... That guy, whoever he is, he's out there looking down at you, and you are flushed and breathing hard and still shaking a little. And you're so wet, and he's standing there right in front of you just like I was moments before. I can't see you, and I can't understand the language. I pull up my pants, careful as they pass my swollen dick, still so hard, painfully hard, with one long drip of my stifled release running down its length. My eyes roll back in my head. It's impossibly unfair. But even in my angst I can feel that the adrenalin rush of almost getting caught has started to work at bringing down my erection. I hear more Dutch. There is a quiet shuffle, and I guess that you have moved to your feet. There are more words from both you and the mystery man, nothing I can interpret. And then there is silence. I'm waiting to hear some doors open and close again so that I know I can come out of the toilet, but I don't hear anything. I wonder if you are still both in there. But then why are you so quiet now? A minute passes and I still don't hear the door. What is happening? My dick has finally softened to a manageable size as I start to feel jealous and angry, testosterone redirected from a frustrated orgasm. I tell myself that there is no way that you have just suddenly moved on to someone else right now. Are you so horny from what we've done so far that any man will do? I know it couldn't be, and so I wait for my dick to go all the way down, more minutes. Finally, I open the door, feeling that if you have lost all inhibitions and are now fooling around with someone else out there, at least I could join in and finally feel you on me. An image of you bent low at the waist to take me in your mouth with someone else thrusting into you from behind flashes through my mind and makes my dick jump again, but the room is empty. Of course it is. I must be insane. I shake my head, "too much internet porn," I say to myself, and turn on the sink to wash my face and hands. Out in the main room, I can feel a lot of eyes on me, and the ones that are not on me are on you, sitting behind your desk. And you still look on the verge. You look up at me with a non-stop blush. You smile and start to say something, but then nothing really comes out and you look back to some papers on your desk, clearing your throat. People are watching us. I wonder if I should leave and give this a day to blow over. But I doubt anyone is going to forget what they think might have happened in there. Besides, I've only been at the gym 15 minutes by now: A hello, three kisses, a minute at the sink and then a five-minute orgasm for you. My torture lasted another couple of minutes and then I stood in the woman's toilet for five more. I'm not going to leave the gym after 15 minutes. I've got my whole workout to do. And besides, looking at you, squirming slightly in your chair, still so obviously close to another massive orgasm, I know this isn't over yet. **** This piece was more than just a fantasy. It had intention. I was writing about her teasing me, and leaving me frustrated and pent up, but the story itself was me teasing her. I wanted to make her want the orgasm on her face and then not give it. I wanted to make her pant in disbelief when she thought I might turn it into a threesome, and then take that away too. But it could have just made her feel embarrassed for me. And that would have been the worst. ***** I wasn't online when she responded, and it was late when I did get to check my e-mail again. She had responded about 30 minutes after I had sent it. Oh my God Mike I love it! I wanted that to end so differently! You told me you weren't sure about writing some of your dirtier ideas, but I love it. Don't hold back. Don't ever hold back. I love your dirty mind. XXX Emma ***** I lied awake all night, so excited by her reaction to my second piece of writing. She loved it. And I couldn't help but fall the rest of the way in love with her in return. I wanted her so badly. I wanted to touch her so badly. ***** The gym was crowded the next morning when I got there, and Emma wasn't at her desk. From the corner of my eye I saw her look to the door as I came in. She was watching another girl do sit-ups and she was holding a clipboard and pen: someone had booked a training appointment with her. And on top of that, one of my colleagues was there and two other people I knew, trapping me into conversations and making me feel very watched. I never got the chance to say more than five words to Emma that morning. All I could do was look. She looked amazing. And every time we made eye contact the mutual lust was magnetic, pulling at us, but there was too much in the way. I left the gym feeling powerless and bullied by the universe. I was distracted and irritable at work. I had to do something. I was so in love and so infatuated and so blocked. I had to connect with Emma. I emailed her. That was so hard, not being able to talk with you today. Not being able to be alone together. I would have done anything today. I would have crossed any line today. This morning I cut my fingernails in case I would get the chance to touch you. I shaved my face in case I would get the chance to taste you. I didn't jerk-off last night in case I would get the chance to cum with you. I wanted you so badly today. XXX Mike Uncharacteristically, Emma responded almost immediately. I thought I was the only one overthinking it. I shaved my legs and between extra carefully this morning. I wore my best lingerie. I was frustrated too. I wanted to drag you into the bathroom with me, but I felt like there were so many eyes on us. I guess it wasn't meant to be. It was delightful and cruel. Did that last line mean she was bowing to the will of the universe? Was it still over? And lingerie? That killed me. I love lingerie. It drove me nuts thinking that Emma was wearing lingerie under her gym clothes. I forgot all about my work and emailed her back. Lingerie? LINGERIE!! You're killing me! I have to know. Was it the same set from the night swimming picture? She came right back. No, it's a black set. It's my favorite. I look really good in it. I was banging my head against my computer screen, creating a noticeable commotion, and some of my colleagues we're looking toward my desk. I knew she was smiling at my email address printed on her screen, sitting at her workstation all that distance away. I have absolutely no doubt that you look fantastic in it. I have to see it. Can you send me a picture? Take a selfie in the bathroom or something. Please, I need to see that, I'm dying here. I was begging, and I hated to beg, but I was desperate and so utterly aroused, frustrated. She didn't come back with anything immediately, and I had to work at a different site in the afternoon. I had to leave my computer. ***** The longing for Emma was spilling over into everything I did. Every woman I saw was provoking a sexual response from me. I couldn't think straight. And now I was working closely with another woman. I was collecting data from a human subject at the hospital. We used human data as a framework for trying to program artificial intelligence. I was partnered with this psychologist who specialized in functional magnetic resonance imaging: basically a big machine that you put a person inside of, and it records their brain activity. The psychologist was a very attractive young woman named Janna (pronounced Yah-Nah). Janna and I had worked together several times before. Janna and I had flirted before. I was sitting there with Janna, in the control room while a volunteer research subject was in the next room, lying in the FMRI machine performing some task, and there was nothing to do but watch the data come in and chat. And Janna was hot and flirtatious. She was blonde and had a large chest, which she showed off as much as she could. I was so horny. "How much longer are they going to be in there?" I just wanted to get out of there and go see if Emma had emailed me. ""Twenty-four minutes." Janna had a stronger accent than Emma. Her large chest was quite impressive on such a slim body. She was all giggles and lip-licking. I was pent up and irritable, and so, so horny. I needed to DO something. And suddenly, some of my need just slipped out. "That's about enough time for a little make-out session." I surprised myself even more than I surprised Janna. Excitement flew onto her face with an enormous smile and a hearty laugh. I tried to backtrack. "Sorry, bad joke, I'm terrible." Janna knew I was married. She let me call it a joke, but she knew it had been a very bold flirtation. We continued chatting and I tried to distract myself by explaining some of the more boring details of my part on our project. But the excitement never left her face, and as I was talking, she stood up, and went and closed the door to the control room. I stumbled with what I was saying for a few seconds, and she watched me with amusement, with direct affirmation that there was only one way to interpret what her closing the door meant. And there was so much excitement on her face. And I was so fucking, crazy horny I felt like I was going to die. But I was dying for contact with Emma. That was what got my into this situation, and it was also what got me out of it. Because Janna was not Emma. I didn't want anything to happen with Janna, I wanted Emma. I resumed talking and shut down the sex vibe. I didn't make eye-contact. I withdrew. I gave all the signals that I was not going to let anything happen, and Janna, disappointed but understanding, let it go. Maybe she just wanted to see if I would really do something. She never seemed mad at me after, though I've only seen her a couple of times since then. I think she wanted more, and maybe she even felt that more was inevitable, now that I had said what I said. But there was no way. Only Emma would satisfy me. Only Emma. ***** I had to work late and when I got home my kids were already in bed, and Christie was reading in the living room. We talked for a bit, but all I wanted to do was check my email. When Christie stretched and gave a yawn, I practically bolted for my home office, calling a goodnight over my shoulder. And there was an email from Emma. It had been sent just after 9 pm, and now it was almost 11. So she hadn't emailed me back that afternoon. She hadn't taken a selfie at work. I was a little disappointed, but when I opened the e-mail and saw that there was an attachment, my disappointment turned to pure ecstasy. I delayed opening it until I heard Christie in the bathroom upstairs. My dick was already hard. I pulled it out and gave it a squeeze. I grabbed a tissue. Already stroking slowly. I clicked on the attachment. There was black lingerie, laid out on a bed, but nothing else. No Emma. I laughed in spite of myself. The lingerie was lacy and included a garter belt and stockings. Fuck it, I jerked off looking at her lingerie. ***** Emma gave me a big, mischievous smile the next morning when I arrived. I smiled back, but when we talked, we were both cautious. Three days ago I had only wanted a kiss. Two days ago we were determined to do nothing. And yesterday I was determined to have everything. We were balancing on the rail of a rollercoaster track, and trying not to look down. We had only a few sentences for each other when I first arrived, and then I went to begin my work out. I tried to call her over with my eyes but she wasn't coming. Eventually I ran out of water and had to pass her desk on the way to the bathroom. She smiled at me, and I stopped to chat. There was nobody close enough to hear. "So you liked the second fantasy?" She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms with a big smile. "Yes." Nothing more. She was resisting. "When you say that you wanted it to end differently, which ending did you want?" It occurred to me that I could ruin the story a little bit if I asked too much about her reaction to it, but I wanted to know so badly if my tease had really worked. She didn't answer, though she looked thoughtful, like she wanted to answer but couldn't find a response she was happy with. I tried to make it easier for her. "I mean, of the three endings that could have happened, which would you have wanted to read the most: In your mouth, before you touched me, or the threesome?" I was cheapening it by talking about it, but I was desperate to know. I had worked so hard for the reaction, and though I knew she had loved it, I wanted the specifics. "The first two." It wasn't much, but she said it. I was a steel rod. I was sitting on the edge of her desk, mostly facing her with my towel in my lap, hiding it. Always hiding it. I was too aroused. I felt vulgar. I felt savage, wanting more and more details, as though talking about it explicitly could lessen the aching want to do it. "Really? Did it make you wet, the thought of my cum in your mouth, and on your face?" She got really quiet, almost a whisper. "Yes." "I got carried away. It was like I was jerking off with my own words. "Are you wet now, thinking about it? Imagining me stroking my cock right up against your tongue?" She interrupted me with an awkward, gasping laugh, and a raised hand. "Stop. Stop it. You're being too aggressive. I feel like you're pushing me." But I was out of control. "Come into the bathroom with me right now. I want to lick you right now. I want to eat your pussy until you cum so hard and fill my mouth and cover my face and I'll drink you up..." She was blushing and panting and her eyes were shut tight with her face turned downward. I thought she was giving in. "Come now. Come let me lick you until you cum." But the harder you pushed Emma, the easier it was for her to say no. "You should leave now." I was crushed. "Don't look so disappointed. It's not... I'm not... I still really like you. But go. It's not going to happen, not like this. Go." I had the feeling that I was going to cry. I never cry. I left. I was only about a third of the way through my work out, but I left. Crushed and ashamed. Horny beyond words. It was the worst time that I had ever spent with Emma. But Emma didn't want me to feel quite so bad: that night, there was an email from her. I was so wet when you left. I'm always so wet when you leave. To answer your question, yes, I do like it. I like it sometimes when a guy cums on my face. And I like it when a guy cums in my mouth, and I do swallow it. But I'm not like some bullshit cumslut character in a gangbang porno. If I'm in the right mood and it's the right guy it turns me on. You're never going to get anywhere with me if you push too hard like that. But at the same time, it made me so hot and wet the way you lost control. The things you said... I went into the bathroom after you left. I went into the stall and locked the door. I wanted to feel how wet you made me. I slipped my hand down into my panties. I was soaked. I leaned back against the wall and rubbed back and forth across my clitoris. I dipped my fingers inside my pussy, imagining they were yours. I imagined you licking me. I imagined you coming up and kissing my tits, kissing my neck, biting my ear. I wanted your cock so bad. I wanted to feel your big hard cock inside me. No more of the teasing, no more of the foreplay. Just you, out of control pounding your cock into me hard and fast. I came imagining you inside me. I gushed. I squirted. I can't believe how much you turn me on. And you've done it all without even touching me. If this is how good it is now, how would it be, to be together? XXX Emma. I read it over repeatedly, masturbating vigorously - too vigorously because I wanted to cum before it started to feel old, and I tore the skin a bit. The symbolism was not lost on me. What I was doing was so self-destructive, I was at war with myself, and I had the battle scars to prove it. But these weren't the first. I've got a lot of battle scars. But these were pretty deep. I came on the fourth reading, just when she did., spontaneously pulling the tissue away from the end of my dick as I came, letting my semen spill out all over my stomach, as though she was there with me, and there was no reason to be tidy. A Glorious Tease Ch. 02 God Emma, that was so hot. I just came all over myself! XXX Mike. No response. I went to bed. ***** I didn't know where to start the next day. My head was spinning. I only knew I didn't want to push, but I wanted more interaction. I wanted everything sexy. I approached Emma's desk and the gym was mostly empty. I wanted to say something - anything - provocative. Normally when I work out I wear the same t-shirt and underwear that I wore the day before, and then put on all fresh clothes after my shower. But on this day, I went to my office first, wearing my fresh clothes, and then hit the gym mid-morning. This change in routine caused me to forget to put an extra t-shirt and pair of underwear into my bag, so I had to go bare-balled under my shorts. I don't think that kind of thing usually works to turn a woman on, at least not like it turns a man on when a woman wearing a skirt tells him she's not wearing panties (practically a fetish for me). But playfully, I told Emma anyway, and was surprised that it did seem to have an effect. "I feel silly telling you, but it's just an honest accident: I'm not wearing underwear under these shorts." I pulled up my shirt so that she could see the thin fabric clinging to the base of my dick, resting against the length hanging below. She tried not to react, but she did. A sharp intake of breath. Her eyes rested on the outline of my cock for the entire length of time that I showed it to her. Her lips were wet. When I dropped my shirt she looked back up at me like she was meeting a challenge. Sometimes our flirting was like that. Like a contest, between us. She reacted to me turning her on by wanting to turn me on even more. We were always both trying to be the one to affect the other the most, and she was always winning. But the few times that I had the upper hand were transcendental. They never lasted long. "I'm wearing another set of lingerie today." Emma pulled the side of her pants down just enough to expose a thin, bright turquoise waistband. A similar blue-green to her eyes, but darker and brighter, almost fluorescent. I started to grow. I had possessed the upper hand for exactly 9 seconds. Another gym-goer interrupted us to ask Emma something in Dutch. I retreated to the back of the gym, with my towel held in front of my swelling penis. And Emma wasn't through with me yet. The atmosphere was electric. Every glance between us was a flirtation, a display. She was finding reasons to bend over every time I looked at her, either giving me a view of her cleavage, or an arched-back look at her ass. I'd seemingly innocently raise my t-shirt to wipe sweat from my face, letting her see my abdominal muscles and the treasure trail of wispy hair leading down below my belly-button. She raised the ante when, as she walked past me in the crowded gym, she slipped her shirt up without pretending to have any innocent reason to do it. And she had lowered her pants in advance, letting them rest below the line of her panties, showing me the skin under the thin straps on either side of the silk that covered her pussy. Every flash, we dared to show a little more. The next time I raised my shirt for her, I was standing directly in front of her, at her desk so that she was sitting and my torso has at eye-level for her. This time I pulled my shorts downward, like she had, but on me this action showed a thin tangle of soft, curly, dark pubic hair, and the base of my cock, partially erect and large from all our teasing, and very visible in my shorts. It was so risky, anyone could be looking. Emma fell forward slightly, steadying herself with her hands on the surface of her desk. I was incredibly flattered that I could do this to her. She shook her head at me, and the crushing end to yesterday's interaction came back to me, and I was momentarily unsure if I was pushing too hard again. I avoided eye-contact, and moved to the machine behind her desk to finish my work out with some abdominal exercises. A low wall divides Emma's workspace from the equipment behind her. We would often chat when I was on one of those machines because we were so close, but just as I got settled there, she left and went into the bathroom. Maybe I had pushed too hard. She was gone a while but gave me a small smile that filled me with relief, but then she ignored me for a moment, focused on some work on her computer. I was doing lateral twists on the abdominal machine, passively looking at the back of her head and at her computer screen. She looked back at me and then from side to side. She looked away again before I could engage her in conversation. And then her screen filled up with an image of her taking a selfie in the bathroom. Her pants were down around her knees, so that the tiny turquoise panties were fully exposed. Her shirt was pulled up and so was the matching turquoise bra. Her arm was pressed across her bare breasts, holding the bra and shirt upward off her breasts and covering a line across her bare nipples. Below her arm the bottom of her breasts swelled with alluring volume. The silk, turquoise panties were a bright flash of color against her exposed skin. A darker color toward the bottom told me they were wet. And then it was gone, and she turned back to look at me, giggling almost too loudly when she saw my face. I must have looked pretty funny with my jaw resting against my chest. "Jesus Emma, you almost gave me a heart attack." She stood from her chair and came and leaned on the wall, looking over it and down at my groin. The wall was just over waist high, and it stretched behind her desk at angles so that when standing close to it, nothing below your stomach was visible to anyone in the gym unless they were standing right beside you. My dick was growing quickly. It was still pointing downward, trapped in the leg of my shorts, but rising outward, fighting hard. I lifted my shirt again, to give her a better view, and then reached my hand down into my shorts to untangle it and let it point upward. I wanted to pull it right out, but when sparks flew between Emma and I, it drew a lot of attention, and already I could feel eyes trying to see just exactly what was happening there at the wall. "Will you send me that picture?" I couldn't believe that picture even existed. I wanted to cum while looking at that picture. "No, that's not a picture I want floating around the internet. I took it just for you, now. But I'm deleting it." I was desperate. "No don't, not yet. Let me see it again. Let me memorize it." Emma was such a tease. She smiled. "You want to memorize it? Why, so you can stroke yourself thinking about it, later?" "God yes." Emma leaned close over the wall to me. I thought she was going to kiss me. I'm sure that several people in the gym had thought that was going to happen as well. There were so many people trying to look like they weren't watching us. "Do it now. I want you to masturbate for me, here. I want you to cum for me right here." Had she lost her mind? "What do you mean? I can't do that right here!" She had a plan. "I mean here at the gym, in the bathroom. Like I did yesterday after you left. Go in there right now and do it." I was embarrassed. People could see my arousal. If I disappeared into the bathroom for too long now, I'm sure at least someone would have an idea about what I was doing. "I want to, but it seems so obvious." But Emma would not be denied. "If you do, I'll give you another look at my lingerie. But I want proof that you came for me. Don't clean yourself up all the way. Leave something to show me." It was so twisted, and I loved it. I'd seen Emma turned on before, but at that moment she was a woman possessed. If our flirtation was a contest, she didn't just want to win, she wanted to destroy me. I wanted to be destroyed. I went into the bathroom. I imagined Emma in there the day before. There were two private stalls coming off the co-ed sink area, one for girls and one for boys, but really any person could use either. I chose the girl's stall. I wanted to be where Emma had been. I was already close. It wouldn't take long. I tried to remember every detail of the picture. I imagined her arm coming down a bit, so that her breasts would still be pressing upward but her hard nipples would show. What would her nipples look like? I imagined licking them, sucking them into my mouth. I imagined her fingers working in and out of her pussy right here, just hours before. I imagined those turquoise panties pulled to the side, exposing her, all soaked and slippery. I imagined the feel of all that slick wetness against the head of my penis as I pressed and held it to her opening. I imagined her voice in my ear telling me to fuck her, fuck her, push in hard. I imagined holding one of her legs high, trapping it with my elbow, hand along the underside of her thigh opening her wide, and the other hand on her ass, holding her panties to the side, holding her up, her other leg around my hips, her juices flooding over my balls as I thrust in and pressed as deep as possible. I started to cum, standing up, my whole body tight. My stomach flexed so strongly it hurt. I crunched forward and groaned loudly as all the built-up passion shot out of me in thick, oozing spurts. I caught most of it in a wad of tissue, but some hit the wall and the floor, and there was plenty coating my hand. I cleaned up using more tissue, protecting my one hand that held the evidence. And even that hand I had to clean up a bit, But I left two fingers to show, curling them to try and keep the cum from dripping off. I opened the door out to the sink area, and there was a woman waiting to use the stall. She was about twenty, tall and slim with long blonde hair. Very Dutch. She was surprised to see a man come out. I tried to hide my fingers. I wondered if she heard me groan. I wondered if she could smell that tell-tale ocean-like scent. She had seen me around the gym often enough that she knew I spoke English. "You are not supposed to use that stall, it's for girls." I played ignorant. "Oh, I didn't realize, I can't read the signs." Actually, the Dutch words for "women" and "men" were about the first Dutch words I learned when I got to Holland. She knew it was an excuse and pushed past me into the stall. I put my left hand on the door that lead back out to the gym, wondering how I would show Emma my evidence in the busy room. But then the door to the men's stall opened, and Emma tiptoed into the sink room with me, a finger against her lips to signal silence. She had been right next to me while I masturbated. She whispered, knowing there was a girl in the other stall. "Let me see." She looked very excited. I held up my fingers. There was a line of partially clear, partially white, thick fluid running across the two fingers, and several separate droplets. As I held them up, a tiny drip slowly gathered at the base of one finger, elongated, pulled away, and dropped to the floor. We both gave a small, quiet giggle. Emma's hand dipped into her pants. It was unbelievable. I was stupefied. There was a girl in the stall right beside us, and anyone could come in at any time. This was real, not one of my written fantasies... Emma was touching herself right in front of me. Emma was hell bent on my destruction. I had moved her very strongly with my second piece of writing, and now she wanted to make sure that she was turning it all back onto me. She wanted to do something that would keep me awake for the rest of my life. Something provocative, erotic, just a little perverted... She took my wrist with her other hand and brought my fingers to her mouth. Her tongue came out, wet and hungry. She let the tip of her tongue touch a droplet clinging to the end of one finger, then licked upward and pulled away, leaving a tiny transparent string connecting her mouth to my finger. And then another lick, further down my fingers, gathering a little more substance. I was transfixed. I had orgasmed only moments before, but I was already growing again. Another slow lick and then she sucked my fingers into her mouth. I knew it was all for me. It was a show. It was the killing blow in our little contest. But her fingers were moving fast in her pants. We were both losing. We were both winning. She sucked hard on my fingers. There was a droplet of my cum shining on her lower lip. Her tongue pressed and swirled against my fingers inside her mouth. It felt so good. It looked so good. I was completely erect again and I wanted to be in there so badly. And then she slowly guided my fingers back out of her mouth, giving one last kiss to the tips before letting them go. We were out of time. She pulled her hand out of her pants, and then reached into her pocket. I was still standing wide-eyed and stunned, staring at her incredible mouth. Breathing hard as I watched the last remaining bit of white trail from her lip to her chin. The toilet in the woman's stall flushed and Emma quickly brought her hand out of her pocket, using her other hand to pull the waistband of my shorts outward, opening them wide and exposing my renewed erection. I saw a flash of turquoise as she reached in and squeezed her panties around my dick, stroking me once with the silk, and then leaving them there. Her hand came out and she let the waistband of my shorts snap closed. She had taken her panties off in the stall next to mine while I was masturbating. I could feel how wet they were against my dick. She was showing me the lingerie again. That was the deal. And then she was pushing me out the door of the bathroom as the lock came unlatched on the women's stall. I was hard. My fingers weren't entirely clean. I had a pair of wet panties stuck down the front of my shorts, and suddenly I was standing out in the open in the middle of the gym with a shocked, horny look on my face. She meant for me to leave. I had wanted to warn her about the evidence still showing on her face, but I didn't get a chance. There was a mirror in there. A flash through my mind of her licking her lower lip right in front of that other woman in there knocked the wind out of me, making me suck air. I pulled my towel off my shoulders and held it in front of my dick. As always seemed to be the case now, I left the gym hiding my arousal, but unable to hide from my arousal. I was smitten. I was spellbound. I was powerless. Emma was everything to me now. A Glorious Tease Ch. 03 Preamble: I strongly suggest you read the first two chapters first, but here is a summary. My name is Mike and I work at a University in Amsterdam. I'm completely infatuated with a young woman named Emma who works at the University sports center as a fitness trainer and weight room manager. I'm American, average height with a muscular build, brown hair and brown eyes. Emma is Dutch, but speaks perfect English, and does not look like a typical Dutch woman. Rather than being tall, blonde and pale, Emma is about a half a head shorter than me, has brown hair with blonde highlights, and a tan, olive complexion. Her eyes are very light blue-green. They're gorgeous. Both Emma and I are very fit. Emma is slim and toned, with perky breasts that are probably about a B-cup (Emma once told me she thinks it's lame when women wear bras that pad their breasts: she's content with hers exactly as they are). And Emma's ass is sensational. I've been with a lot of women, and I have never loved an ass as much as I love Emma's ass. Emma has a boyfriend, and I'm married with three young children. My wife's name is Christie. Emma and I were acquaintances/friends for a long time before, very suddenly, our relationship exploded into an intense and explicit flirtation. I wrote out a fantasy that I had about her, and sent it to her as a gift. She loved it, which started me falling in love with her. At the end of chapter 1 we were both alone at our homes (Christie was out with friends, and my kids were in bed) and we were chatting over email. In return for a sexy picture, Emma convinced me to let her watch me masturbate over the webcam while staying hidden herself. When I was getting close to orgasm, she sent a second photo, naked, close-up between her legs. It made me cum immediately. She came watching me, but then when we were through she said the second picture wasn't of her, and cut off contact, feeling too guilty about what we were doing. In the second chapter, Emma and I caved in to our lust again and had another encounter. She teasingly told me that she had masturbated about me in the bathroom after I left the gym one day, and then, in return for a look at her lingerie, she convinced me to go into the same bathroom and jerk myself off thinking about her. She told me to keep a little bit of cum on my fingers so that I could prove to her that I had really done it. When I finished and came out of the stall, she was there in the bathroom, and she sucked my fingers into her mouth, tasting my orgasm. Then she quickly stuffed her wet panties into my shorts, and pushed me out of the bathroom. Two excerpts from the final moments of Chapter 2: I was hard. My fingers weren't entirely clean. I had a pair of wet panties stuck down the front of my shorts, and suddenly I was standing out in the open in the middle of the gym with a shocked, horny look on my face. I pulled my towel off my shoulders and held it in front of my dick. As always seemed to be the case now, I left the gym hiding my arousal, but unable to hide from my arousal. I was smitten. I was spellbound. I was powerless. Emma was everything to me now. ***** Chapter 3 Our first real kiss was cataclysmic. I can't actually connect it to a specific place in time between the events I've already described. The emotions associated with that moment are like massive gravity, a singularity that warps space and time. I was leaving the gym, and Emma came around from behind her desk and said she would walk me out on her way to the equipment room. She had a small cart of equipment she was pulling behind her, and I don't think I fully realized what was about to happen. And then we were alone in the hallway and she was leaning her back against the door of the equipment room, facing me, with one hand on the handle, keys in her other hand. She was just looking at me. And I realized I could kiss her. My heart was beating so loud in my ears I wouldn't have been able to hear her if she had said anything, but she didn't. I swallowed slowly, and spoke. "One kiss. Just one kiss." I was scared, nervous, hot and hard. She just kept looking at me, and turned to unlock the door. I said it again. "Just one kiss. That's all." I didn't really know if I was asking for that kiss, or asking for that kiss to be all that happened. I knew that I didn't want us to try and live out the bathroom scene I had written for her. I didn't want anything that happened between us in real life to feel scripted. And then the door was open and she was backing into the room, and the hallway was still empty, and I felt faint and powerless as I stepped into the room with her, begging for just the one kiss. And the air turned thick as honey as I reached for her, and she turned her lips to me and I kissed her and it was perfect. Wet, and passionate, hard and sensual. Our mouths opened, our hands explored one another, our tongues touched. And all this feeling welled up inside me and we both, very suddenly, broke the kiss, gasping. And then she pushed on me, speaking breathlessly but trying to sound forceful. "Now get out of here." And I left. And I felt that I must have been pale as I walked to the men's change room. Thankfully the room was empty and I sat down on the bench, collapsing forward to put my face in my hands. I don't think I've ever felt such a potent mix of emotions before, and I couldn't tell you what was hitting me hardest. There was the desire and arousal from what we had just done. There was so much guilt, because that was really the first no-gray-area, completely-unambiguous, physical instance of me cheating on Christie, and I really never thought I would ever do that. There was fear, coming from two sources. And the fear of getting caught was not nearly as strong as the fear of not being able to resist doing more with Emma. *** Eventually, troubled as I was, I told one of my friends about Emma. I didn't give him all the details, but I did say that we had kissed, and that I wanted more, but was hoping I had the strength not to let it go any further. He's a really great guy, my friend, and full of virtue. He didn't think that I was behaving very well, but he tried not to judge me, only to steer me back to the good side of the line. He was pretty firm when he said that he would definitely never, ever cheat. I've said that before. And believed it. Now, I'm pretty sure that it's bullshit. There are no definites, no absolutes when it comes to love and sex. There's a circumstance for everyone. There is an undeniable moment for everyone. Everyone has a threshold for a reward that is too great to turn down. The best you can do is to set your threshold high. My friend was in a relatable situation, because he was dating one girl, but had strong feelings for another one of our friends, a girl named Eve. I asked my friend if he would cheat if Eve tried to seduce him. He hesitated, but said no. I asked him what if it were Eve and Eve's hottest friend and they wanted to have a threesome with him, no strings attached and everyone would swear to secrecy. No, he wouldn't. (Bullshit). I asked him, what if it were Eve, and THREE of her hottest friends, and he hadn't had sex in a month, and they were all 2000 miles from home. No. (Does anyone out there believe him?) I asked him if the answer would still be no if the girls offered to pay him 3 million dollars for the pleasure. "Well, now we're just getting ridiculous," he said. Yeah, that's when it got ridiculous... Maybe he couldn't admit it, or maybe I am incapable of believing that any person could be infallibly committed to one person. But my point is clear, even if I might be wrong: Everyone has their breaking point, even if it's ridiculously high. Emma was my breaking point. The chemistry was just that strong. And so I had kissed her. And I had shared erotic writing with her. And I had masturbated for her. And that incredibly erotic encounter that we had; that intimate exhibitionism... When she brought my fingers to her lips it made it seem inevitable that one day we would end up naked in a hotel room together. But actually, we never would. *** Thoughts about that morning in the bathroom interrupted my work over and over the rest of the day. I would ask myself, in disbelief, did that really happen? I was so hooked. I couldn't do anything except think of Emma. I wasn't going to see her again for four days: The weekend, the Monday that she didn't work, and then the Tuesday when I would normally see her was not going to happen because I had meetings most of the day, starting early. I would be busy until midafternoon, but by then it would be too late to see Emma at the gym, because her shift finished midafternoon. Could I see her after her shift? I didn't know how to approach it. I just... wanted to see her sooner rather than later. But even that scared me. I realized that I wanted to date her. I wanted to date her! I wanted to bring her flowers. I wanted to cook her dinner. I wanted to see her home, look at her pictures, have her explain her mementos and memories to me. What had begun as just wanting to be locked in a luxurious hotel room with her for seven days and seven nights had become wanting to be her boyfriend. No... Wanting to go through the process of becoming her boyfriend, from start to finish, relishing every moment along the way. My torment took on a new dimension; the physical, frustrated lust was joined with even more emotional turmoil, bouncing wildly between joy and distress. We had something so amazingly wonderful and exciting and invigorating. But we couldn't have it. We couldn't keep it. I couldn't date her. I couldn't date her. I couldn't date her. ... But couldn't I, at least, just hang out with her a little more? A little fooling around at the gym was one thing, but seeing her outside of the gym seemed like a much larger violation than anything we had done so far, even though she had sucked my fingers into her mouth that morning. Even though she had briefly squeezed her wet panties around my cock just a few hours earlier... It didn't make sense, but it did. Because seeing her outside of the gym was moving forward. It was developing the relationship. I couldn't have this relationship. I couldn't have it, and I couldn't accept that I couldn't have it. ... Just a walk. Nowhere private, just a walk. I could just walk her from work to the train, and nothing too sexy could happen because it would all be very public, but at least I could see her. At least I could see her, sooner. And I could see her in her street clothes - I could know how she liked to dress. I could know that basic thing about her that I didn't already know because I only ever saw her in her uniform. I managed to beat myself in the internal debate. The eternal debate. I e-mailed her. Hi Emma, I have to work Tuesday morning and most of the day, so I'm not going to see you again until Wednesday. But I was thinking I could probably find 30 minutes for a break around the same time that you finish work on Tuesday, and I'd like to come meet you and walk you to the station. It would be nice to be able to talk for a while without the whole gym watching us. Do you want to? xx Mike I was dreading radio silence. I knew it was likely, but maybe not - she had taken things so far that morning, would she really back off now? 20 minutes, and nothing. An hour passed. Three hours and her shift was ending in ten minutes. This was agony - I knew I might be checking my e-mail every 20 minutes for the next four days. But she wasn't quite that cruel, it turned out, just indecisive. Hi Mike, I don't know. I want to, but then I don't want to. I don't know what happened today. I'm not sure what I should do. Let me think about it. I will e-mail you on Tuesday before the end of my shift and let you know, ok? X Emma At least there was a capital X. It hurt that she could wait. It hurt that she was indecisive about waiting until Wednesday, and it hurt that she didn't write back to ask me to come pick her up that very day. Was our attraction really that unbalanced? I was risking a happy marriage to spend time with her, and she wasn't quite sure if she wanted to see me. But I knew she was hot for me. The difference wasn't in the chemistry, it was in the morality. She couldn't feel like a good person and do this at the same time, whereas I could. Maybe I was just better at fooling myself. ***** Tuesday came and I got nothing big done at work. I'd do something small, then check my e-mail. Do another, check my e-mail. Watch my email for 20 minutes, then go to lunch. Come back and check, my e-mail. Wait and then check it again. Wait. I'm not a patient man. but when she e-mailed, it was all worth it. Hi Mike, Ok, I'm leaving in 20 minutes, come and meet me and you can walk me to the station. My train leaves in an hour. Emma No kiss, but that didn't bother me. It's a 10 minute walk from my office to the gym. I got there 10 minutes early. I waited on a bench just down the road from the gym, not wanting to be too obviously waiting for her to any familiar people that might go by. When she rounded the corner and gave me her best smile, I almost passed out. She looked so fucking amazingly great, it stopped my heart. She had on this gorgeous royal blue dress that made her eyes flash. The material was high-quality, tight but not overly form-fitting (if that could exist), with straps thick enough to hide her bra, and a hemline about midway down her thighs, billowing out slightly with her movement, but too heavy to rise all the way in a breeze. It was sexy and beautiful, but just a little conservative. It didn't say "fuck me." Or, it did, but it didn't say "fuck me" first. It said " admire me, love me, and if I decide to let you, fuck me like a champion." I realized that she was dressed to kill. She had only e-mailed me twenty minutes ago, but she had known that morning when she had packed her work bag that she was going to meet up with me. We hugged, but no kiss. I don't know if I can really explain why there was no kiss. I was absolutely in love with her, and I knew that she was quite infatuated with me (she's not the kind who calls it love so easily). We had touched so intimately. She had taken my fingers in her mouth, she had tasted me, but now tasting my lips was a step too far. And yet, it didn't seem so crazy at the time. We were still trying NOT to do anything. It was not so illogical that after failing once or twice we might still try to keep ourselves from failing again. And besides that, the little bit of will to resist it made it all the more fun and exciting. We walked and talked. I wanted to hold her hand but I didn't. I wanted to stop her and take that kiss, but I didn't. And I wasn't dying, because at that same time as I wanted to get physical, I was just enjoying her company. We stopped in a sunny park and sat down on the grass. I could see so much of her legs. The talk got flirty and very sexual, because nobody could hear us but our public location would keep us behaving, at least to some degree. We had questions about each other, about each other's sexual experiences and our sexual tastes. Flirty questions. Flirty stories. There was one question that she started to ask but then changed her mind - embarrassment or guilt, I'm not sure which was the reason. We were talking about our respective erotic fiction, the sex stories we were writing about each other. She wanted to know some details that would help her write my climax. But she stopped herself, blushing slightly. Earlier, she had told me about her threesome experience (girl, girl, guy) with quite a bit of enthusiasm, but suddenly now, she got shy. I really, really wanted to know what question she felt she couldn't ask. I wouldn't leave the issue alone until finally she gave in. "Imagine we were having sex and you were about to orgasm, and I said to cum on me anywhere: wherever you wanted. Where would you want to cum?" Oh fuck! I pictured my cum on her everywhere. She waited for me to answer. We looked at each other. Her look was so direct, despite being embarrassed to ask just moments before. I touched her high on her cheek, lightly and then moved to let the backs of my fingers brush across her lips. She stayed almost perfectly still, breathing lightly, but quickly. She had a small, shy, excited smile on her face and she let her lips part but didn't kiss my fingers as they passed, she just let the slight friction pull her lower lip downward a bit - sexy as hell - as I traced a path low to the other side of her mouth. I ran my fingers down her neck, watching the goosebumps form, leaving a hot, white line of lust in both our imaginations. I drew my fingertips down from her neck towards her cleavage, until it was too ticklish and close so that she giggled and winced and I pulled my hand away. I looked down at her legs. Her incredible, soft, tanned, firm, exposed legs. The way she was sitting with her legs stretched out in front of her, leaning back on her hands, the hem of her skirt barely covered her panties. I touched her calf, a tickled her upward to the outside of her knee. "If I could cum on you anywhere I would cum inside you. And I'd cum in your mouth. And I'd cum on your lips, and on your whole, beautiful, sexy face. I'd want to cum on your breasts, and on your belly. And I would want to see my cum on your legs, your thighs, and higher" I brought my finger lightly upward from her knee to the middle of her thigh and paused. Emma's mouth was open and her eyes were slightly out of focus as she looked at me. She spoke and her voice broke a little. "You could go a little higher." I let all four fingertips touch her now, painting a splash up high on her inner thigh, where it might land if it dripped from her lower lip, or from her nipple. And then I drew another line, going higher still. And she sat up forward to take her weight off her arms, and her hands came to her legs and I thought she was stopping me, but instead she gave me a teasing smile and raised her skirt just enough so I could see a triangle of lacy, panties - turquoise, again, she knew how great that color looked on her. I could see the line of her shaved slit through the mesh in the lace. I let my hand go all the way up, letting my whole hand grip her inner thigh for the first time as I as I squeezed and massaged with the side of my hand firmly against her pussy. I pressed into the dampness for a moment before she finally stopped me, grabbing my wrist with one hand, holding it still. "Ok, that's enough, stop now." She was trembling. "I would cum all over your pussy. All over your panties as you wore them. All over your gorgeous dress." She made a tsking sound, and firmly pulled my wrist into her, pressing her covered clit against my hand for one more second, and then moving my wrist back downward and fixing the position of her skirt. "You are such a dirty, naughty, twisted man," she said, her voice still shaking but a lusty smile on her face. "It makes me so hot..." I was so hard. I moved my hand back downward, still reveling in the feel of her thigh in my hand; imagining her willingly - wanting to be - covered in my sex. The vision we had created lighted up my mind like a meteor shower. She looked at me and I leaned in to kiss her but she turned at the last second, showing a flash of guilt, a flash of her own torment. I kissed her bare neck and she moaned. A Glorious Tease Ch. 03 "We should go now. I'm going to miss my train." I wanted release right there so badly. I wanted her to reach into my pants and rub me off, feel me burst in her fingers. I wanted her to unzip my fly, pull me out and go down on me right there in that public field, or to lie back and let me rip off those panties and plunge into her. A man laughed from the back of one of the buildings that bordered the park and I looked over to see three guys smoking together, far away, but close enough to glance our way as they talked. It was a reminder that I should feel more strongly about not wanting to be seen. It occurred to me that Christie's friend works at a building on the same street. Suddenly self-conscious, we stood up and gathered her things. I couldn't stand up straight at first and she giggled about my hard-on. I rearranged things a bit, and we set off to the station. We were both kind of quiet the rest of the way there. Both so horny and distracted, both wondering, what was next, between us? At the station, there was a pause and a hard, longing look into each other's eyes, but no kiss good-bye. I watched her walk away in that dress. Even now, I wish I could see her in that dress again. I closed my eyes. I turned, and then turned again to watch her disappear in the crowd around the train station. I took a step away, then stopped. I shook my head. I missed her already. I was still so hot and pent up from our flirting in the park. My whole midsection hurt, throbbing, making me want to double over in the pain of frustrated, frustrated, frustrated lust. Emma's train from Amsterdam to her home was about an hour and half, I knew. That hour and a half was more time that I could spend with her. I started walking toward the station. *** I was worried that Emma might send me away if she saw me at the station. I bought my ticket and went to the track cautiously, slowly, watching for her and trying to blend into the crowd. It wasn't hard to spot her in that dress. She shined for me as though the material were iridescent. There were hardly any people on the platform where her train came in, so I stayed well back and watched from down the stairs to see what car she entered. Once she was on, I approached quickly to enter the same car as she did, but at the opposite end. I carefully looked through the window in the door that leads to the seats, to see where she sat down. She was standing at the opposite end, looking at her options. Mid-afternoon her train is mostly empty: there were about five occupied places and the rest were free. She turned and left the car. Had she seen me? No. there was just something she didn't like about the car. Was she looking for privacy? My breath caught in my throat and my heart started beating really fast as I thought about what that could mean. I pushed through the door, entering the car and following her to the next, quietly. When I got to the next car, I couldn't see her. Peering in the window, I could see a three guys sitting together talking loudly at the end closest to me, and no other seats seemed to be taken... Except for a wisp of hair appearing over a window-side seat back, facing away from me at the other end of the car. Trying not to look like I was stalking anybody, I very quietly walked into the car and down the aisle, past the three loud guys, and sat down silently in a seat four rows behind her. The train hadn't started moving yet. I saw her hair move upwards and at the last second realized she was rising up to look back down the aisle of the train. She was checking her privacy. I ducked down so she wouldn't see me. The train started moving and I waited a few minutes to give her time to thoroughly scan all the seats, determining mine was empty as I stayed low and hidden. Finally, I rose up to look over the seat backs again. The three guys at the other end of the car were laughing boisterously, but even over that noise I could hear her heavy breathing, and a low sigh. I couldn't believe it! My cock jumped to full erection, painfully straining against my shorts. She was really doing it! She was masturbating on a public train! She wasn't even alone! She knew she wasn't alone, that there were three dudes just 10 meters away (as well as me, just three meters away, but she didn't know that part). Was she just that fearless, that much of a thrill-seeker that the possibility of getting caught didn't dissuade her? Or was the aroused state I left her in just too much to ignore, forcing her to touch herself in such a risky situation because she was too overcome to care? I squeezed my cock through my shorts. Could I do it too? Would she stop if she knew I was there? I didn't want to scare or startle her. I wanted to keep her in that mood. I heard her gasp faintly, her breath coming in pants. I shifted in my seat with exaggerated movements to make some noise, and added a fake yawn to try and sound harmless. Then I stood up and loudly started moving to the front of the train, towards her seat, as though I was heading to the bathroom. She didn't turn around to see who it was; probably too focused on hiding her activity and make herself presentable. I had given her just enough warning. When I got to her seat, she was looking out the window rigidly. Her legs were crossed tightly, her dress pulled as low over her thighs as she could get it, and her scarf (the Dutch wear scarves even in the summertime) was trailing across her legs between her clenched fists, covering even more. She would be hoping this anonymous passerby would either leave the car, or settle somewhere far enough away that she could get back to what she was doing. Every aspect of her body language said "go away". I knew that would change when she realized it was me. I sat down and she stiffened even further, refusing at first to turn and look at this stranger, and then angrily turning to get up and find another seat. And that's when she saw it was me. "Mike!" She was stunned, and confused for a second, unable to say anything more, still partly raised from her seat as though to leave. That gave me a little room behind her back to move my left arm around her and pull her toward me. My other hand went to her leg, sliding from her knee right up her leg under her skirt to grip her ass. Her lips opened. I raised my left hand up her back to her neck, until my fingers entered her hair, and pulled her face to mine, kissing her with all the hunger that had been built up that afternoon and all the days and months before. She kissed me back. Her lips were soft and moist and her tongue came out immediately to touch mine. Her one hand was still on the seat where she had been pushing herself up, but her other came to my face, feeling my unshaven jaw, tensing her fingers as though she could pull my face deeper into hers. She broke the kiss and looked into my eyes with happy disbelief. I thought she would say something like "you're crazy," or "I can't believe you're here." I think she thought she would say something too, but all her arousal had rushed back to the surface since the initial shock of me sitting down had scared it out of her, and she just dove back into me, sucking my lips into her mouth, and throwing her leg over my lap to straddle me. Now she had both hands on my face, kissing me so passionately. My one hand was on her hip and the other was on her ass under her skirt, cupping the lower swell. Her hands went to my shoulders and back, kneading, massaging, feeling me. I broke the kiss and went to her neck, licking and sucking as I moved lower, and bringing one hand in front of her to pull the straps of her dress and bra down off her shoulder. Her nipple came into view and I suck it into my mouth. Emma moaned and grabbed my hair tilting my head back to look up at her. The lust on her face was the most open expression I had ever seen from her. And then suddenly she stiffened, ducked her head, and the barest hint of noise escaped her lips. "Shhhhh." I stayed still, looking at her, breathing deep, my cock swollen to bursting in my pants, her exposed breast pressing against the palm of one hand and her incredible ass cupped in the other. She rose slightly again and looked over the seat backs toward the other end of the train and then bent her head down, burying her face in my neck. The three guys back there had stopped talking. She silently rolled off of me to her own seat, straightening her dress, covering her breast. She was blushing, but I could see that her lips were still shiny and I was dying to taste them again. "They saw me", she whispered. Straddling my lap, she had been raised high enough above the seats to be visibly in that position to the guys at the back of the car. A heartbeat went by. Then another. We looked at each other, unsure what to do, what would happen. One of the guys said something, and another responded. There was more laughter, and their conversation began again. I don't know what they were saying, but Emma was satisfied that they were not interested in us, and she visibly relaxed, shaking her head. "You make me so crazy." I kissed her again. She took my bottom lip into her mouth and bit it gently, then opened her mouth again and swirled her tongue around mine. But then broke it off again, suddenly, exasperated with me, or with herself. "What are you doing here? We can't do this here!" She seemed vulnerable and powerful all at once, ecstatic and horrified that I was on that train with her, that I could not keep away. Her tone was reproachful, but she had kissed me, and I wasn't backing off now. I ignored her first question, and whispered. "If you can do what you were just doing right here, then we can do a lot right here." The red in her cheeks got even deeper, but she said nothing. I went on. "I know you were masturbating. Tell me what you were imagining." I put my hand on my cock through my pants, enhancing the outline of my erection. She stared for longer than she wanted to, and then answered with as much of a resistant tone as she could muster. "I wasn't imagining your cum all over me, if that's what you're hoping. That's your perverted fantasy, not mine." I knew it wasn't hers. I wanted to know hers, to be hers. "So then what?" "I was imagining you taking me, there in the park. Putting your hands on me, pushing me down and pulling my panties down roughly - desperately. I was imagining the feeling of you... of your... pressing against me..." She stopped, refusing to go on, or unable to. But I was unable to stop. My whisper was hoarse with animal arousal, a growl, a threat. "Show me. Let me see you touch yourself. You've seen me, I want to see you. We can see each other." I put my hand on the zipper of my shorts, slowly drawing it downward. My cock pressed out into the extra room this created still contained within my boxer briefs. She didn't say anything, but she watched me, and then she looked past me to the aisle, listening for a second to the obnoxious young men at the other end of the train. Then she moved her hands to the hem of her dress. The decision to do it, having now been made, freed her from uncertainty, and the exhibitionist in her came out to play. She pulled the hem of her skirt up so slowly. When the barest hint of a triangle of panties appeared, she stopped, and moved one hand to cover the triangle and to rub up and down a bit. Her voice was confident. "Take it out then." I unbuckled my belt and undid the button on my pants, then reached into my boxer briefs to pull out my dick. I pushed my shorts and boxers down a bit to let my cock stand unencumbered. I slowly stroked it, lightly, up and down the full length as she watched me, and I stared at her exposed thighs and her hand moving over her crotch. She raised her dress up a little more, exposing the upper edge of her panties, and then lowered her hand inside, rubbing her clit lovingly, slowly, but building up speed very quickly. I was transfixed. A gasping moan escaped her lips again. She had already been so close when I interrupted her it seemed like she was about to climax. And then suddenly she slowed right down, delaying it. She gritted her teeth with the effort, she pulled her hand out of her panties and reached over with silky wet fingers to grip my bare cock and squeeze it. Her other hand moved to her hip, one finger going under the thin lacy waistband, pulling it downward to show a tan line, teasingly running her finger back and forth to move the fabric down and up, and slightly away from her body exposing skin in all the sexiest places. She gripped the head of my cock and rubbed slippery fingers along the underside, in slow, soft circles. It was so sensuous, so potent, I lost control and groaned loudly. She cast a quick, nervous look from my cock to my face, eyebrows raised in both mirth and concern as she listened to make sure we hadn't attracted attention. Silence from the other end of the train. We waited, holding our breath. And then a low, quiet voice, and a response. Emma leaned into me, close to my ear, raising a shiver from me as her whisper tickled my neck. "If you can't control yourself, I'm not going to play with you." She was really enjoying herself, now, having more fun with the situation. Her own arousal was already so close to the edge, but in that mood, it was so much fun to focus on driving me crazy. She bit my ear and then turned her head to look downward. Emma's hand had never left my cock, and she started stroking it, bending down into my lap to look at it closely, to kiss the end, giggling when it twitched. She didn't take me into her mouth. Instead she brought her other hand into the action, so that as she stroked with one hand, the other reached into my fly to gently play with my testicles. All the while she was just admiring it, memorizing this cock she had tried to imagine so many times before. She kissed the wispy line of hair on my lower belly, and then murmured up at me. "Do you want me to suck you off?" That is such a coy question, coming from anyone. But coming from Emma, that day, it killed me. "Oh God, please, please, yes." She sat up straight again, playing, teasing. Her hands came to the hem of her dress again and she pulled it up, and put one hand into her panties again. Not playing so much, this time, more showing off. "What will you do for me?" "Oh God, I'll do anything! I'll do anything for you, Emma. I want to go down on you right here and lick and suck and fuck you until you have the most intense orgasm of your life! Oh God, Emma, please do it. Take me in your mouth." I said it too loud again. Emma looked around, mouth open in look of mischievous joy. Out the window, a train went by going the other way. In the flash of faces, I wondered if anyone saw my cock out. "How can I know you won't get too noisy?" She had me so hooked. "I'll cut out my tongue." She laughed at my joke. "But I really like your tongue." Her hands felt incredible on my dick. She kissed my lips again, and we twirled our tongues around each other some more. I loved her tongue. And then the train started slowing down, and Emma looked out the window. We were coming up to a station - not Emma's, just one of the many stops the train would make. Emma laughed wickedly. "Oh no, I guess I can't do it! More people could be coming on now..." I was in agony. "We could find another car." She kept playing "But I'm so comfortable here..." She was such a tease, but I knew she was as desperate to get somewhere with me that day as I was. I didn't put my cock away, risking the indecency. I held my dick and leaned in close to Emma as she watched my hand move slowly up and down the shaft. I kissed her neck lightly and started whispering lusty prayers into her ear. "I want to feel you so badly. I'm so hard for you. I'm dying to make you cum. I want to explode inside you. I want to fuck you forever." I reached over to her, turning in my seat to squeeze my hand behind her back and hug her toward me. My other hand went to her far leg, and she raised her knee, turning as well so that I could grip her thigh. Her hand came to my dick again. We pulled at each other The urge was overpowering to both of us now. We needed to be closer. Nobody got onto our car. As we pulled away from the station, the guys at the other end of the car broke into another large round of laughter and their conversation got even louder and more enthusiastic. This seemed to embolden Emma, and she threw her leg over me, this time keeping her head low and hidden as she straddled me and kissed me hard on the lips. I could feel hot, drenched lace against my bare cock. She started rubbing herself back and forth on me, I squeezed her ass and raised my other hand to grab the straps of her dress and bra, pulling them down again to expose one breast. With the straps still entwined in my fingers I pinched her rock hard nipple lightly between my thumb and index finger, twisting slightly. She broke the kiss again to groan, and I took the chance to kiss the top of her breast, and then playfully licked her exposed nipple, then kissed it, then licked it again, and then sucked it hard into my mouth, moving my tongue in circles around it. I wanted to get to her pussy, and I knew she wanted me to as well. I let the hand on her ass move forward on her, trying to get further underneath. She was enjoying the feeling of grinding against my exposed cock, but she rose up on her knees to let my hand move under her toward her center. I let my fingertips stay under the edge of her panties following the line until I reached her wet, warm, silky, soft opening, and my fingers sunk inside. She was so tight it shocked me, and I almost came in my pants just recognizing what that, hot, gushing slit might feel like squeezing my dick so tightly. I pushed in two fingers, massaging the outer lips from the inside because the angle wasn't right to get them deep. We could fuck like this, I knew. I knew I could pull her panties to the side right there and let her rub that satiny slick pussy back and forth on me a few times, and then just let it slip into her. I would be inside her perfectly. I knew she would let me. I knew she wouldn't stop me because we were just in too deep by then. Nothing could stop us. My dick was aching. We were in perfect position. There was this moment of expectation. What was next? Was she waiting for me to do it? Waiting to be able to sit down hard onto me, taking my penis deep inside her, to bite her lip and push her face into my neck and scream silently through an orgasm as I flooded her pussy with my own? Could we really do it right here? There were three obnoxious hooligans sharing the car with us! I struggled. I could make love to her. I never wanted to make love to someone as much as I wanted to make love to Emma at that moment. I loved her. If I did it, I was lost. I would never be able to escape that love, that infatuation, not even to save my marriage. Not even to preserve my family. There was something deeper inside me, that was stronger than the me that rules my actions day to day. Maybe that part of me said "no", maybe it just said "not now," but that part of me stopped me from entering Emma. But it couldn't stop me from being determined to make Emma cum. I moved her off me to sit on the other seat. I heard a noise of disappointment. It almost sounded like "oh you asshole." Maybe that was the only chance she would ever give me, or maybe it had never been a chance at all. But her lips stayed locked to mine as I reached into her panties from the front and got my full hand on her crotch. The train started to slow down again, coming to another station. I didn't take my hand out of her panties. She opened her legs wider and I started to move my fingers back and forth across her clit, dipping inside her every few seconds. It was so slick. A Glorious Tease Ch. 03 Her one hand that was closest to me moved into my lap and she slowly started to stroke my naked penis again. And then she stopped, squeezed hard, and whispered. "That feels soooooo good. But the station is coming, just stop for a minute." I kissed her again and she kissed back, passionately, but broke it again quickly. She said something in Dutch, which I'm sure was something like, "oh my God." Her hand came off my dick and she grabbed the hemline of her dress with both hands and pulled it down over my hand, over her legs. She had pinned my wrist slightly with the pressure of her arms holding her dress down, but not enough to fully stop me from working her clit, and she continued to moan softly and squirm as I did. As we pulled into the station the first faces appeared floating past outside the window. Emma gasped again and pulled my hand away from her pussy. I let her. "I was just about to cum," she whispered, and kissed me hungrily. "I want you to." "Just wait. We have to see if more people get on this car. Just wait." The train stopped. There weren't many faces out on the platform. She was looking out the window, and I put my hand up her skirt again. Her back arched as I rub across her clit again. She was so soaked that I felt I could be aggressive, and I rubbed it fast and hard. She moaned louder this time and turned her head to face forward, ignoring the window for a minute and rolling her eyes back before closing them. "Miiiiiiiiiiiiike!" Too loudly again. She grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand out of her panties. There was this incredibly sexy mix of anger, humor, affection and lust on her face. Her eyes were wide now as she tried to look stern and whispered again. "Stop it now, ok? Those guys heard us." The guys at the back of the train were silent again. The train was stopped, and there were no faces outside our car. I stood up and looked back through the car. It was empty. "They didn't hear us, they're gone." Emma kneeled on the seat backwards to look over as well. Her ass stuck out, and the back of the dress was resting on it a bit, preventing it from falling down the way it was supposed to. The lower half of her incredible butt was exposed, along with a thin turquoise line stretched tightly across her ass and pussy. It was a vision. Agreeing that we were alone, Emma smiled and looked back to me, still facing backward, leaning against the seatback. I brought my hand up to her ass and snuck my hand into her panties so that the side of my hand rested in the crevice of her ass, and massaged her slit up and down, spreading her juices from her lips to her clit, to her ass and back. Emma arched her back and moved her hips up and down with my movements, urging me into her. Finally I put my two fingers inside her and starting to work them in and out with a slow rhythm. Emma closed her eyes and laid her forehead on the seat back, continuing to kneel, thrusting her ass back against my hand as I finger-fucked her. The train started moving out of the station. Out of the corner of my eye through the window, I saw the backs of people walking away from the train as my fingers glided in and out of Emma. The train picked up speed, and Emma was making more noise now that we were alone. Sighs and groans, my name, swear words, and things in Dutch. There was no reason to stop me now, and she was letting her orgasm build with complete abandon. Her breasts were pressing against the seat back as she bucked back and forth against my fingers. I wanted more of her. I stopped. "Oh, what, oh, Mike, don't stop. I'm going to cum." "Sit back down on the seat, I want to eat you." I said. It would only work if the car was empty, but it was. I knelt down half in the aisle and half in front of the seat, and she sat down and spread her legs. Her dress was up around her waist. I pulled down both straps to expose her breast, and kissed her lips one more time before going lower. I kissed both breasts, and then moved my face right in front of her pussy, and pulled her panties away and to the side, fully exposing her sopping-wet, blushing vagina. It was the same vagina from the picture she had sent. I knew it. I ran my thumb over her clit again and she shivered. I kissed her clit. Then I lowered my face to give her whole slit a long slow lick from the bottom to the top. She tasted incredible: that sweet taste of a woman so turned on she can't think straight. I licked her again. I thrust my tongue as deep inside her as I could, moving it around to gather as much of her nectar as I could, pushing my face hard into her, drinking her. I kissed her pussy lips, sucking them into my mouth. And then returned to her clitoris, taking it into my mouth as well, and sucking hard as I flicked my tongue across it, back and forth, fast and hard, before flattening my tongue to press the roughest part of it against her clit, and massage it in slow circles. Emma put her hands in my hair and held my face into her, now making so much noise that it filled up the car. I brought my hand from her thighs up to her breasts, cupping them, and squeezing the nipples. Though I had never been with her before, I knew she was close. I brought my right hand down again, and as I licked her clit, I slid two fingers in her pussy pushing them deep and wiggling the ends to tickle the front wall of her vagina. It didn't take long after that, but the train was slowing down for the next station when she exploded. "Oh Mike, oh Mike, I'm cumming, I'm cummingggGGGGGGGGGGGG!" It was a loud squirting orgasm, and I kept working her pussy through it all, though I thought she was going to pull my hair out at one point. As it subsided I started to lick her thighs instead of her clitoris, and then pulled my fingers away to lick her slit again, taking as much of her as I could get before the train stopped. We both sat up, and as I moved to take the window seat, she gave me a strongly affectionate, tight hug with a forceful kiss on my neck before whispering. "God that was amazing!" The car door in front of us opened and two older people shuffle in. I zipped my pants up over my raging hard-on just in time, and covered my open belt with the lower edge of my t-shirt. I kept my face averted down and toward the window. My face was shiny with Emma's orgasm, and my cock was too hard for me to stand up and find a bathroom. Emma gave me her scarf, and I used it to wipe my face. Then she kissed me again, and put her hand on my thigh. The new people settled just a couple of rows behind us and were engaged in conversation. I buckled my belt quietly, dying, absolutely dying that there was no opportunity for me to get any release. But Emma cuddled into me so happily that I could live with it. And then, all of a sudden there was the sound of three obnoxious young men laughing. Emma's facial expression turned from one of complete, satisfied elation to horror in an instant as she realized at the same time as me that we had never been alone. We both looked back over our seats again and there they were, the three obnoxious pricks had never left, they had hidden from us, and listened, or maybe even spied on us the whole time. They waved at us laughing even more loudly, and then started clapping. Emma let out a strangled sound and brought her scarf up to her face, hiding herself in shame. The older couple looked back and forth between us and the guys, confused at first but putting it together eventually. The train was still stopped, and Emma rushed out of her seat, pulling her bag with her. I followed. *** It was a very small station with just one platform and one track. Trains didn't stop here frequently. Emma was ahead of me, and as the platform emptied down the stairs to the street, and the train left, she turned, blushing and giggling at the same time. I smiled as I caught up to her, and she punched me in the shoulder. "You asshole, I can't believe you did that to me." I flinched in surprise, but then she kissed me. She was too satisfied and happy to be embarrassed for long. I kissed her back, and then she broke it off, biting my lip viciously. My cock was still hard, and she still looked amazing. There was a hint of real anger in her eyes, but it was more like a vengeful determination, and it was joined with warmth and tenderness, and desire. She took my hand and led me down the platform, looking up at the surveillance camera and then scanning the area. We walked toward the end until she pulled me into a corner between the route map and an automated ticket machine. And then she turned, kissing me again, and her hands went to my belt, unbuckling it. "What you just did to me on that train... it's going to make me want you forever. Now I want to get even with you." She got my pants undone, and squatted down in front of me, taking my pants with her. My cock popped back upward, rock hard. But we were so public. "Woh, are you serious? Someone could come up here at any second!" Emma was watching my cock throb as though it were dancing for her. Her hands were on either side of my thighs. She let her tongue touch just underneath the tip, making it jump a little. She smiled, somehow still managing to look angry. "That didn't stop you on the train." She sucked the end of my dick into her mouth and all of a sudden I couldn't say anything. I fell backward a little to lean my shoulders against the route map. Emma brought one hand to the base of my cock and started pumping it in short strokes and she sucked the rest of me in and out of her mouth. I could feel her tongue swirling around me as she sucked. It felt amazing. "Jesus Emma." She paused for a second. "I've wanted to do this for so long now, so badly." She stood up for a second and grabbed my hand, bringing it under her dress to her pussy. She was so soaked it was dripping down her inner thighs. Her orgasm just a few minutes before had not slowed anything down. She kissed me as I felt her sopping, slippery crotch. "I am so wet to suck you. I'm so wet to be your fantasy. I'm going make you cum so hard, and so much, and I'm going to let it get all over me. You said you would cum all over my face and my breasts and my dress? So do it. I want to see your face when you do it." I was speechless. She squatted back down and started to take my cock deep into her mouth, deeper than most girls can go on me. With one hand she started to fondle my balls, and the other hand went to her own pussy, where she started to rub herself. She sucked savagely for a while and then came off me again. My cock in her hand was slick with her hot spit. She rubbed me against her cheeks and lips as she spoke to me. "I'm going to cum again, from sucking your dick. You are so fucking hot, you asshole. I don't care about anything else except making you cum right now." She looked into my eyes and saw that same overpowering lust that I had seen in her eyes on the train. And I saw the real desire in her eyes, the aggressive desire to give me the most intense sexual experience of my life. The cruel desire to make sure that in my long life, I would never have better... She kept eye contact as she opened her mouth to show me her tongue licking back and forth across the underside of the head of my dick, and pumped long fast strokes on the shaft with her free hand, the other hand still working between her own legs. The platform was still empty, but more people, or a train could arrive any second. "I'm not going to stop if someone comes, you know, I'm serious. I don't care who sees, I don't care if a whole crowd of guys come and watch. I'm not stopping until you cum for me, all over me." Her dirty talk and her tongue and her eye contact were all driving me wild. My orgasm was building up more strongly than I ever remember it, far past the heights at which I would normally have already let it all go, and still climbing. My eyes rolled back in my head and a low moan started that just kept getting louder and more desperate. And she just kept pumping and licking and sucking and speaking. "I'm so horny again. I'm going to cum again. Are you ready for me to cum with your cock in my mouth? And I erupted into her. Her mouth was open and the first hot spurt flooded over her tongue. My eyes winced closed as I felt her engulf me, sucking me deep to take the second blast against the back of her mouth. I forced my eyes open to see her pucker her lips and kiss the end of my penis as the third wave came, coating her lips and dripping around my shaft to her chin. Her fingers were pressing hard into her own clit. Still pumping with her hand, she moved the head of my dick to rub it against her cheek and another warm, liquidy, white line shot out across her cheek to her neck, immediately dripping downward into the crevasse of her breasts. She smiled as a drip came off her chin to hit her dress right over top of her nipple, and kept pumping my cock. Primal noises were ripping out of me, torn right off of my soul; taken by her; given to her. And then she was losing it too, as her second climax hit her, fueled by her perfect execution of my orgasm, of my fantasy, of me. I had never cum so much in my life. The force of her own orgasm made her drop her head for a second so that the underside of my cock rubbed against her forehead, and I shot another load into her hair. She was moaning powerfully, bucking her hips against her hand but still stroking my cock, almost spastically. Her body shook, but she looked back up at me, and smiled wantonly at the helpless ecstasy on my face as I watched my cum drip from her lips, splashing against her bare thighs and the front of her dress.. She sucked my cock into her mouth again, moving it in and out deeply as my orgasm transitioned to slow seeping releases and my noises grew softer. Her shaking slowed down, subsiding to gentle arching in her back with each crest as she reveled in the feel of my now gentling bursting, pulsing cock in her mouth, and the look of complete surrender and reverence on my face. The waves of pleasure, now less intense but still wonderful, continued to wash over both of us. My cum was all over Emma. In her hair, on her cheek, dripping down her neck, oozing out the sides of her mouth, dripping from her chin, pooled in her cleavage, splattered down the front of her dress and running down the inside of her thighs. There was so much it could have been from three men, but it was all from me. It was all from Emma. When she was sure I was completely done, she let my softening cock fall from her mouth, took her fingers from her pussy and stood up, looking down at her dress and body. She was a glorious sight. She looked back up, and laughed at the awe in my face. She smiled provocatively, tilting her head with her hands on her hips to strike a coy pose. "You made such a mess! Are you proud of yourself?" My cock jumped again. I could barely speak, but I had to tell her. "That was the greatest orgasm of my life, no contest. That was the most I have ever cum, by far. That was... that was... fucking legendary... that was..." I trailed off. We stood facing each other in silent, giddy satisfaction. She wiped a drip of cum from her eyebrow with her finger, absentmindedly at first, but then with a giggle as she looked at it, then back at me, shaking her head in disbelief at what we had done. She started wiping off her face with her scarf. I reached for her and hugged her to me, and she hugged me back, resting her one clean cheek against my shoulder with her face turned away from me. I couldn't care less about getting a little messy as well, at that moment. We held each other tight, holding on to the bliss that was already giving way to the shadows of our significant others; the guilt, the remorse, and the pain of wanting more than one person and not being able to give yourself to both. We held each other longer than two people in our state should, in such a public place, and then let each other go. "Emma, I love you. You kill me. You just fucking destroyed me there." Her hands dropped to her sides and she looked deep into my eyes for a second, then down at her scarf. She smiled. "I know." We looked at each other again, and then she looked down the platform toward the stairs. "I'm going to go find a place to clean up and change into my work clothes." And she started to move away as I struggled to pull up my pants.