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Emma Ch. 01

By: nikkie



For a while, I really believed I fancied Emma. At least, I thought I liked her enough that I would want to date her. I'd lay awake at night, thinking of her and the way she giggled softly at my jokes, never seeming to appreciate them much or find them really funny. Nevertheless, humoring me and trying to please, just like she did with everyone else. I would close my eyes and picture her small, delicate hand tucking a long streak of blond hair behind the ear, her forehead frowning in puzzlement or dismay. She has had the softest of voices, often prompting her conversationalist either to lean closer as it was barely audible or ask her to repeat herself. 

She lived in an old Victorian house across the street from our family home. The house was owned by my father and was filled with the students from the nearby college. The rent was fairly steep, but the house was big and beautiful, allowing seven students to practically have their own flats, sharing only a big kitchen. If something were amiss my father would send me over to fix it for them. 

At first I hated the job. I had no time to mess around someone else's living quarters, being a student myself and needing every spare moment for the studies. But once Emma moved in, I didn't mind it much anymore. She was kind and gentle girl, always a bit of a loner, not really making friends with anybody who lived in the house, not even me. Always courteous, she would make certain there was distance between her and the rest of the world, devoting all her time to the books and her little Chihuahua dog, Angelique. 

From time to time I would bump into her at college and she would smile and greet me warmly, only to hurry away, preventing me to involve her in conversation beyond "Hello, how are you?" 

I asked her to a party once and she heatedly declined, using the all too transparent of an excuse of having to study. A few weeks later I drove past her on my way home from a class and offered her a ride, but she refused that, too. 

Slowly, my liking of her turned into annoyance. She appeared to be a snob, believing nobody was good enough for her, or so I thought. I had girlfriends aplenty, but it was her I really wanted and she clearly didn't like what I had to offer. To her, I was probably nothing more than a janitor, someone who desperately tried to attract her attention, and for whom she didn't have a minute to spare. 

Christmas time came and I knew that everyone in the rented house had left to visit his or her family. Everyone that is, but Emma. She and her blasted dog were the only ones left, and I was more than pissed off when I had to walk over there on one particularly bitterly cold evening to fix the furnace in the cellar. I was late for a party and didn't feel like dirtying myself with ashes. 

High and mighty Emma didn't even have the decency to come down and tell me what was wrong. She simply explained everything to my dad over the phone and I was instructed on what to do. I saw to it that she had heat in the house and just as I was about to leave the cellar, an idea came over me, something I've never entertained before, not even in my wildest sexual fantasies late at night, when I lay in my bed, wanking off furiously, thinking of Emma or some other girl that took my fancy. 

I decided to return to the house late at night after the party and just watch her sleep. Even though I was furious, she was a beautiful girl and despite having lost all hope of ever dating her, I still enjoyed looking at her face. I read somewhere that a sleeping person is at its most innocent, or maybe it was vulnerable. Whatever the case may be, I wanted to see her when she wasn't hiding her true self from me. I walked over to the small window in the corner of the cellar, which was big enough to allow a person to enter from the backyard and quickly checked the cellar door, making sure Emma was nowhere near to spot me. I unlocked the window, opened it and then closed it again, leaving it unbolted. 

"All done, Emma!" I yelled up the stairs as I had finally left the cellar. I waited for a minute and after a few uncomfortable moments, she finally replied, thanking me for my trouble and bidding me goodnight. 

I was still shaking my head as I exited the house. She proved to be more and more bitchy by the day. Now, years later, I can understand her reluctance to make friends with the world, but at the time, I was young and foolish, all I knew was that there was fun to be had and parties to attend to. I never cared enough to find out why she kept isolating herself from everybody. 

The party that I went to proved to be somewhat of a disappointment. Very few of my friends showed up and I was in a pissy mood all evening. I had a few beers but even that didn't satisfy me and unlike other times I stopped drinking before I got intoxicated. I kept thinking of Emma and how I would avoid her being alarmed by the inevitable barking of her pet rat. Truth to be told, that dog didn't make much noise, but one never knows with animals. When least expected, they could make a ruckus and spoil one's plans, to say the least. 

I left early, telling my best friend Brian that I had a late night date, trying to make an alibi for myself should the trouble ensue and I found myself in a tight spot. I drove through the countryside, avoiding the pubs that were my usual haunts, finally arriving in Reading well after midnight. I noticed that I was trembling all over and it wasn't just due to the cold. I was nervous and excited both at the same time. 

Why I thought seeing her asleep was such a good idea, I couldn't tell. Not then, not now. I believe I just wanted to be close to her when she wasn't on guard, seeing her like she most certainly wouldn't want me to see her. It would be my personal revenge, I thought. At the same time, I tried to come up with an excuse in case she did catch me in the house and the best I could think of was that I came to make sure the furnace was still in a working order. Even now, I still break out into a sweat just thinking of how foolish I had been and what sorts of trouble I could have gotten myself into had the things gone wrong. Even though I wasn't truly drunk, I think the little alcohol that was in my system had boosted my courage, as I seriously doubted I would have gone through with the spying thing if I were stone cold sober.

I parked the car at the end of the street, making certain that she couldn't have heard or seen me coming home. Ever so quietly, I slipped into the alley behind the house and quickly checked to see if there were any signs of life in my own home. Apart from the small light above the front door, it seemed my parents were sound asleep and I was grateful for that. Now, I only had to worry about Emma and her dog.

The light in Emma's room appeared to be off as well and I knew she always went to bed quite early. I sincerely hoped that this was the case on that particular night, too. 

I opened the unlocked window at the back and slipped inside the house, softly landing on a small, thick rug that I had placed in the cellar earlier in the evening just for that reason. I held my breath and slowly closed the window, silently grateful that the hinges didn't creak.

I turned towards the door and a high-pitched sound coming from behind the big cardboard box that housed an old washing machine almost made me jump out of my skin. For a moment I thought it was the rats, although we've never encountered that problem before. If it were the little buggers, I wouldn't be the one dealing with them. They creeped the living daylights out of me even when simply watching them on the television, I wouldn't want to bump into them in real life. 

Then the sound changed into whining and slowly and ever so carefully I walked over to the box, peeping behind it. To my great amazement, the doggie crate that Emma used for her pooch stood there and through the metal bars Angelique's sad face looked at me.

I stood as if bolted to the floor for a moment, expecting the dog to burst out into a mad barking session. The dog, however, appeared to have recognized me, her whining becoming slightly louder, but still nothing to alarm Emma. 

I couldn't understand why she would put the dog in the cold cellar in the middle of the night. She loved that blasted Chihuahua more than anything I could've thought of and this was certainly out of the ordinary. 

"It's okay, Ang." I said and poked my finger through the bars, letting her get my scent, which I hoped would pacify her. Her cold nose touched my finger and she gave it a few quick licks, without making any additional noise. Satisfied that the dog would not give me away, I left her where she was and slowly crept up the concrete stairs, grateful that Emma left the cellar door open. 

The minute I stepped into the ground floor hall, I had a feeling something was not quite right. I could hear noises upstairs, but they didn't sound like a television program, or so I believed. There was more than one voice, I was certain of that. 

I took off my shoes and very slowly crept up the carpeted stairs towards the first floor. The noise was becoming louder now, although still somewhat muffled and for a moment I thought someone was clapping. 

A cacophony of sounds, which in one instant became recognizable, hit my brain and I froze. It was not the clapping I heard, it was flesh smacking against flesh. Clearly, the puritanical Emma was having sex. The other thing, which stunned me even more, was the other voice that I heard. It belonged to someone that I knew very well. It was the voice I heard every day. Sometimes that voice would praise me, more often than not, it would scold me. My father was up there with her. My own dad!

For a moment I was going to turn around and flee the house, grabbing my shoes and bolting through the front door, not caring if the couple upstairs heard me. 

Then, the anger as well as curiosity got the better of me and I simply had to see what was going on. I remained standing on the stairs for a while longer, trying to control my breathing and hoping that the loud hammering of my heart was indeed only heard by me. 

Step by painful step I climbed the stairs, approaching Emma's bedroom at the top of the landing, its door wide open, a flimsy and flickering light of a candle pouring out into the hall. She must have had her shutters drawn or I would have noticed the light when I was standing outside the house. 

As I got closer to the bedroom, the words began taking shapes and every once in a while I would clearly hear what they were saying, or rather gasping. 

She said: … Peter (my father's name)… darling (I felt like someone punched me in the stomach)…hurting me…oh yes…oh no…please, faster… He said: …my little tart…tight cunny…fuck uncle Peter (the feeling of nausea hit me hard this time)…that's it…that's it…fuck your uncle Peter, sweetheart… 

I stood still for what seemed like forever. Finally, I managed to gather enough courage and strength – by now, my legs were dangerously wobbly – and crept the last few stairs up, kneeling on the floor and ever so carefully looked around the corner into Emma's room. 

The first thing I saw was my father's big, milky white and hairy arse moving in the rhythm of fucking. Ever since I can remember, my dad has been quite overweight and the sight of him naked only added to the feeling of disgust. I couldn't see much of Emma as they were standing with their backs against the door, but her long and lanky legs were visible, one on each side of him. She was standing on tiptoes, leaning against something, probably a chair, clearly struggling not to fall over. My father's back shined with sweat and he kept his white socks on, something I always found distasteful on a man having sex. The skin on his arms and legs was flapping, reminding me of a walrus making his way across the icy ground. There were roles of fat around his waist, wobbling with the rest of him with each movement. 

The loud smacking of his stomach against her arse cheeks and his huge balls waving between his legs were hardly an arousing factor but I felt myself going slowly hard. My jeans were suddenly too tight and kneeling on the floor, I didn't quite dare unzip myself and take my cock out, but I did rub myself through the thick material as if attempting to pacify the growing hardness. Again, I do believe this boldness was a direct consequence of a slight intoxication, which I was not even aware of.

She gasped each time he rammed inside her, which was accompanied by his grunt, making him sound like a hard laborer. I remembered those grunts from when he would be doing things around the house, picking up heavy objects or moving furniture. The disgust I felt over my dad was indescribable. 

"Not so hard, please!" she said all of a sudden and it had struck me as funny that even in the moments of heated passion, which she had obviously been feeling, she would manage to word her sentences politely. 

Ignoring her, my dad seemed to speed up the pace and fuck just as hard as he did before if not harder. She began whimpering and her gasps have turned into muffled screams. 

"You like that, don't you, baby girl?" grunted my father. "You like uncle Peter to fuck you hard!"

I felt dizzy.

"Yes," she gasped, "but not so hard."

To my eyes, he rammed her even harder. 

"That's right!" he said. "Squeeze me, baby girl! Squeeze uncle Peter's cock tight!"

The flesh against flesh slapping was loud, to me it sounded as if the whole street could hear them. She must have been squeezing like he told her to, as in a few seconds he grunted hard again: "That's it! That's it!" I couldn't figure out what was up with that 'uncle Peter' thing. 

Suddenly he pulled out and straightened up, his hands reaching for her and I could see her head as she was turning around. In panic I withdrew behind the wall, afraid that I might have been to slow. To my great relief no scream of horror followed, only a muffled hard breathing that I presumed belonged to Emma. 

I chanced another glance and now, I could see Emma's delicate hands resting on my father's arse cheeks, her fingernails digging deep into his flesh. As if on cue, he sidestepped a bit, trying to keep his balance, slightly turning them both so that I could see her mouth wrapped around his cock, taking it in deep. 

As nauseated as the entire scene made me, I was fascinated, too. Her long hair was in ponytails, her face was clear of make up and she looked much younger than her nineteen years. She had beautiful, round breasts, which were now showing the traces of fingers where my dad had been squeezing them. My father had obviously had secret fantasies of the forbidden kind and I thought of my mum, a devoted housewife, pretty in her own delicate way, who believed that matching the color of one's shoes and tops was the peak of sophistication. I felt sorry for my mum and at the same time I was angry with both of them; all three in fact. They were doing (or not) things that clearly affected me, as well, even if they were not aware of it.

"Open up wide!" my dad commanded and grabbed a ponytail in each hand. She did as she was told and he slid his cock deep inside her mouth, probably halfway down her throat, at the same time pulling her onto him, making her gag and her eyes water. I looked up in his face, noticing that the sweat beads were gathering at the end of his thick beard and every time he would move, they would break off and land on his chest. His black hair was slicked back, looking wet just like the rest of him. 

Surely, I thought, she would stop this maddens at any given moment, but to my great surprise she didn't. Her eyes were closed tight, tears slowly finding their way down the side of her cheeks and it seemed that he was manhandling her head so strongly she had no control over it. The sight was pathetic and brutal, yet very arousing. 

Only then did I notice an array of sex toys strewn about the floor. A rather large butt plug, a dildo, a vibrator, a number of smaller butt plugs, all in hot pink, clearly bought as a set. 'You kinky little bitch', I thought. 

"Emma…" my dad gasped and she half opened her eyes. "I'm about to cum!" he said between his grunts and one of her hands slipped off his arse and found its way between his legs, her fingers rubbing his crack and to my great horror, I could see what I thought one of them digging inside his arse hole. 

His grunts turned into half screams and she began retching from the force of his ramming inside her throat. I knew he was cumming, just as I knew that this was my last chance to clear out of there before being spotted. If I waited until they were done, I was bound to get caught. 

I crept down the stairs and put on my shoes. I couldn't be bothered with climbing through the cellar window. If they were this careless then they should get something to be worried about. His grunts turned into very loud "Ah…ah…" gasps and I could hear Emma gagging and moaning at the same time. I stepped out into the street and deliberately slammed the door, hoping that I ruined the ultimate moment for my dad, at least this once. Obviously, the night I had seen them together was not the first time they had been fucking behind my mum's back, Emma had known him too well. He told her he was cumming and she knew exactly what to do. I felt sick. 

I slipped back into the shadows of the alley behind the house and walked through the narrow passages that formed a labyrinth of sorts, surrounded by the backyards, quietly entering my own home. I was deeply disappointed in my dad and Emma. At least, I found out that she was a hot-blooded woman, which I began doubting a while ago. 

A plan began forming in my head of which I was only half-conscious. I would find a way to make them both pay! How, I didn't quite know yet, but I would manage it somehow. 

I found my way around the house and into my bedroom in darkness and minutes after I had taken off my clothes and slipped under the bed covers, I heard a quiet opening and closing of the front door. My father's heavy footsteps rushed up the stairs and I could sense rather then hear him opening my bedroom door. 

"Milosh?" he whispered? He would only call me that when he was extremely annoyed and I was in trouble. At other times he would use Milo like everyone else. "Milosh?" he repeated again and I continued pretending that I was deep inside the oblivion of dreams. 

He grunted softly and a flashback of him standing over Emma, grunting his way deep inside her pussy almost made me cough. My bedroom door closed quietly and I sighed in relief. He wasn't certain it was I in the house on the other side of the street, although I believed he had a pretty good idea. I also believed that he was too much of a coward to confront me with it, and if he was to kick up any fuss, all I needed to do was to tell on him to my mum. Not that she would believe me, of course. Lost in her own world of gossip and trivial pursuits of antiques and books, her head was usually high up in the clouds somewhere. 

But not yet, I thought. I won't tell her yet. First, I will have my revenge and afterwards, we'll see what happens. Slowly I drifted off into an uneasy sleep, conscious of the hardness between my legs, deliberately ignoring it. I would not wank off on account of my own father's infidelity. That would have been an ultimate betrayal, I felt. I will think about what to do tomorrow I decided satisfactorily.

Emma Ch. 01



This story is dedicated to Emma who asked me to write this for her.



Patty was a single mom whose husband left her shortly after Emma was born since she had gained a lot of weight and her husband wanted a skinny girl. Patty was barely 18 in 1954 when she got pregnant. Her husband Bill worked in a lumber yard and they lived in a trailer park in Georgia. Patty stayed at home in the trailer since they only had one car. Patty kept the house clean, cooked and took care of her man since that is what southern women did back then. They had not been married long before Patty was knocked up. All during the pregnancy Bill loved watching her breasts get bigger. What he hadn't notice was Patty's ass and thighs were getting bigger too. When Patty was in her last trimester, Bill could no longer get his cock in her pussy, so he would get angry and make her suck his cock or he would ass fuck her. By the time Patty was about ready to give birth, Bill had degraded her to the level of a whore. 

It was June 17, 1955 when Patty gave birth to Emma. Emma was born in the trailer by a mid wife and it was not long after, that Patty's body packed on the fat. Two months had passed when Bill told Patty she had became a piggy girl and that he was leaving for a girl who wasn't fat. Bill packed the clothes he had, then left Patty never to return. 

Patty had no family and within a month after Bill left, she was evicted from her place. John, a mature male and neighbor in the trailer park, took her and Emma in. John had a decent job and he looked after Patty and Emma. John's trailer contained two bedrooms and one bathroom. 

One Saturday night, Patty was taking a shower and John walked in to use the toilet. Through the clear shower curtain he saw Patty rubbing soap over her big saggy tits and belly. He watched Patty pull up her tummy with one hand as she worked the other hand between her legs to wash her pussy. John's pants became tight with his hard on as he watched. 

"I'm sorry." John exclaimed standing in the bathroom near the bathtub. 

"I just need to use the toilet and I'll be on my way." He add.

"That's ok. I figured it was only a matter of time before one of us walked in on the other." Patty replied. 

"I guess your right." Replied John as he made his way to the toilet. Since the toilet was on the opposite side of the tub, Patty took a peek around the shower curtain and watched John undo his pants as he pulled out his cock. While John took a piss, Patty could not help but notice the size of John's cock. She had never seen one that big or thick before. She quickly stopped looking and finished her shower. Patty got out of the shower as John was finishing up. John finished, zipped up, flushed the toilet and when he turned to his right, Patty was standing there dripping wet. His eyes gazed upon her young fat tits and large nipples from nursing Emma. His eyes wondered down a big to her big belly and hairy pussy. Patty grabbed a towel, and smiled at John as she dried off. When she was done, she wrapped herself in a towel and left the bathroom for her bedroom to feed Emma before bed time.

John was not sure what to do, so he went to the living room for a bit to sort it all out. His cock was rock hard and he had never been turned on by a big girl before. Perhaps it was because she was nursing or that she was only 19 and he wasn't getting his share of pussy lately. After about 20 minutes, John got up and made his way to Patty's room. The door was open a jar and John knocked on the door. 

"May I come in?" John asked.

"Please do." Patty responded.

John entered the room as Patty was sitting in a chair reading a book after putting Emma down for the night.

"About the bathroom matter, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you." He said to her.

"It's not a big deal. Perhaps next time I'll get to see you in the shower." She said with a smile. 

"Emma is down for the night, let's go into the living room and finish our talk." She asked.

"Good idea." He replied before leaving her room.

Patty followed him to the living room. John sat down on the couch and Patty took a seat in a padded chair across from him."

"I guess since you've seen me naked, perhaps I should get a peek of that cock of yours. To be honest, it has been awhile since I saw one and I've almost forgotten what one looks like." 

John stood up looked at her and as he undid his pants and pulled his underwear down revealing a long thick uncut cock with two large balls hanging low and then telling her "I doubt you will forget this cock you prick tease! He then stepped out of his pants and underwear and walked in front of Patty.

Before Patty was the biggest cock she had ever seen. Her pussy was getting wet looking at it.

"Since I've taken you and the baby in, how about you open that teen mouth of yours so I you can suck me hard before I fuck the shit out of you. You are going to be my personal piggy girl. I will fuck your cunt, ass and mouth anytime I want along with milking those fat tits."

The only response Patty could muster was opening her mouth and taking his fat cock in her. She sucked the head and rubbed his balls and felt his cock stiffen and the foreskin pulling back to reveal a large head.

"That's a good piggy girl." John told her.

"Lick and suck my balls piggy. I want that teen piggy mouth around my balls. It's been awhile since I busted a nut and tonight, I think I gunna bust both of then up your piggy ass."

John grabbed Patty's head and started to skull fuck her mouth and with each stroke he shoved his fat cock deeper down her teen mouth. John enjoyed Patty's wet warm teen mouth sucking his cock. John pulled his cock out of Patty's mouth and told her to get to his bedroom and to be on the bed on all fours with her ass up. Patty complied with the request and when John entered his room, there was Patty's fat ass sticking up. Her legs were spread wide and John could see the fat pussy between her thick thighs.

John got on the bed behind her and started to rub his cock between the slit of her pussy. Patty felt his cock between her lips and the gasped as John rammed his fat cock up her fat teen hole.

"God damn! Go got one tight pussy for a piggy girl. Bet you old man who knocked you up had a small boy dick. What you got in your piggy hole is a nice big daddy cock." John told her as her rammed her hard.

Patty's mind and body began to change as John rammed his fat cock in her. She was thinking back to when her husband started treating her like a whore. She thought maybe being a whore for men with big cocks who like fat girls isn't such a bad thing since she was single with a baby.

"You like that big cock ripping that fat teen pussy open?" Barked John.

"Yes, fuck me hard John. Make me a whore for you. Bring your friends over and whore me out to them. Your piggy girl will suck and fuck all the big daddy cock you bring home." Peggy relied in pleasure.

"I knew you were a whore when I brought you in. I know a lot of men who would love to pay me to come over a fuck a nice piggy girl like you. Now to make you a true whore, I'm going to take my big daddy cock out of that piggy pussy and shove it up your piggy asshole and then fuck you till you cry and beg me to dump the cum from balls up your whore ass." John said just before pulling out.

"Reach around and pull that fat ass of yours open." John commanded.

Patty did what he asked and John looked at her tight brown asshole and took the tip of his cock and pushed the head in. Patty gasped as his fat cock invaded her ass and then waited for John to plunge his cock inside. John leaned over and grabbed her hair, pulled her head back as far as he could before pushing his cock balls deep up her ass.

"OH FUCK. Your cock is ripping my ass open." Peggy yelled in pain.

"Relax piggy girl and enjoy it. You're going to be taking it up the ass most of the time. I can't risk putting a bastard kid in your whore belly." John told her as he repeatedly fucked her harder and harder.

As Patty felt her ass being invaded, her pussy began to drip and her tits began to leak milk. Her mind continued to wander as she was being used a fuck bag for John. Patty realized that being a whore would make her money since she had no skills to get a job.

John continued the assault on her ass for ten more minutes before filling it with his cum and watching it ooze out as he fucked her. When he was done, he pulled out and watched his load drip out from her gaping hole. Patty knew from this day forward she would be a piggy whore for big cock.



Emma Ch. 01



I spotted her right away after I entered the pub as my "special" sense targeted her immediately. She was near the bar looking at the posted menu of drinks and appetizers, her long blonde hair pulled back into a single ponytail. I approached her from behind admiring her broad shoulders which tapered to a slim waist that flared to a shapely, muscular ass, covered in a short, tight skirt that thrust out even more due to the 6" stiletto heels she was wearing. Being a personal trainer it was obvious to me that this fit specimen spent a lot of time in the gym. Probably a lot of pull-ups and squats, I guessed.

When I pulled close to her I allowed my mind to connect to hers. "Emma," I said to her softly. Once our minds were connected I always knew my quarry's name. At first there was no response, not surprising as her mind was undoubtedly adjusting to my connection. "Emma," I repeated, a bit louder.

She turned slowly around, wearing the familiar vacant "deer in the headlights" look they always had when I made a new connection.

"Yes," she said slowly, softly.

I was immediately taken in by the largest two tits I had ever seen on a young lady, particularly one of her overall body build. They were natural, I knew, thanks to the link, and I guessed that she sported a DD cup size. They thrust out spectacularly in the low cut top she wore, held together only with string ties behind her neck and back. Being made of a white, stretch fabric, and due to her voluptuous bosom, it seemed like it was barely able to contain her ultra-generous assets. "Jackpot," I thought to myself. "If she is doing pull-ups, her strong developed shoulders would be due to the at least ten extra pounds she is packing in her chest," I thought jokingly.

"Are you alone," I queried her.

"No, two girlfriends are with me," she continued, still softly but closer to a normal conversational pace.

"Where are they seated? Don't point, just nod," I ordered.

She nodded back over her right shoulder. Surprisingly she had already become completely acclimated to my control as she had regained small motor control.

I peered in the direction she indicated and saw two attractive young girls at a table at the far end of the pub. "All the pretty ones travel in packs," I mused.

"Do they go to the gym like you?" With my mind I sensed that she frequently went to the gym. "Good girl," I thought.

"No, but I've been trying to talk them into joining," she replied.

Thinking quickly I ordered, "Tell your friends that you ran into one of the personal trainers at the gym. You find him hot and want to join him tonight. You will catch up with them later. Be convincing! Then go to the restroom and when finished, join me at that table," I pointed to a small table in a dimly lit corner at the opposite end of the room from where her friends were seated. I did not want them to see where we were so as to prevent any premature interference with the next steps of my plan.

She nodded, taking a minute to digest all of my instructions, then moved off. After reaching the small corner table I sat and watched Emma talking with her friends. They appeared to look quizzically at her at first, but then they smiled and all shared a laugh and a high-five. Exchanging waves Emma then made for the restroom.

...


With some practice I soon came to the exciting conclusion that I could use this connection to control a girl, not only to attract her to me but to even have sex. Obviously this was quite a power for a sex-craved teenage male and, being careful to choose only girls of legal age, I deflowered many just for the sake of satisfying my sexual urges.

Then, over time, I found two very interesting properties of my power. First there were times after I had established a connection with a girl that later the connection was gone and I was unable to re-establish it. This, I realized, was due to the girl losing her virginity to someone else in the interim. Someone else "beats me to the punch" so to speak. Second, if I had made a connection and deflowered the girl myself, the connection, and my control over her was permanent. The link was just there the next time I reached out to her as if it was a natural course of things. Better yet, the more I had sex with her the stronger the link became and the more natural the girl would act, except for being under my total control. It was as if, through the link, she was picking up my orgasmic pleasure and satisfaction during the sex act and adding that to her own. Basically she would become more creative and focused on maximizing my pleasure as she would share that through the connection. In essence, she became my sex slave. This was powerful stuff. >>>

...

After a few minutes I saw Emma come out of the restroom and she headed straight for my table and sat down. Using the link I had mentally directed her to take the chair so her back was to her friends at their distant table. She now seemed completely natural and comfortable with the link. It was very unusual for my control to progress this quickly, particularly before any sexual relations. However I couldn't think about that right now as I could barely keep my eyes from staring at her heaving breasts. It took all my self-control to prevent myself from fucking her on the spot and turning this virgin into a full-fledged woman. But that would come very soon, I assured myself. First I needed to perform a necessary background check on her.

"Emma, do you go to school?"

"Yes, I am a sophomore at the city university, majoring in nursing."

Excellent, she now goes beyond just answering my questions, using her intuition and a feeling via the link to offer additional information I want to know. "And where do you live," I continued.

"I moved into an apartment a few months ago which I share with my two friends over there."

"And why are you still a virgin?" I asked abruptly changing the subject to see if I could throw her off stride.

However she was very composed and capable, never losing her equilibrium as she answered. "Boys were always hitting on me because of my looks and that got tiring. I never was very attracted to any males, until you. I actually am more into girls, but never could get over the stigma of a same-sex relationship."

This was too good to be true I marveled. I have never had the link work this strong before consummating it. Her casual comment meant that she was not only attracted to me, but she was probably bisexual as well. However her dress indicated that down deep inside she was still hoping to find someone as she was sending out "ready for sex" signals like a flashing red light.

"Are your friends virgins as well?" I continued pressing her.

"Yes, we had formed a pact that we would tell each other when we lost our virginity," she replied.

"Hmmm," I thought to myself, "Emma, you are not going to be one much longer and as you and your two friends seem to be in this virginity thing together I can take care of them very soon."

Having heard enough I stood. Aloud I ordered her, "Come with me."

She stood, readily taking the hand I offered, and we left the pub hand-in-hand.

Nothing was said between us in the 15 minute drive to my place. Emma relaxed silently, her hands folded in her lap, looking ready to respond to anything I might say or demand of her.

Once inside I wasted no time and led her to my bedroom. Then I addressed her as a drill sergeant would address his troops. "I am going to make you mine by taking your virginity. My cum in your body will seal our mental connection and make my control over you complete, permanent, and irrevocable. After that I will take the virginity of your other holes. Over time I will train you as my submissive slut and then you will live to provide me as much pleasure as you possibly can."

She listened calmly to my little oration, nodding slightly. I tested the link and it was still strong. I could sense anticipation in her of what was to come, an almost anxiousness to finally become a real woman, to be taught and shown a real woman's place. There was absolutely no fear in her, just a desire to begin her new life of submission to me. I had never had a girl be this relaxed and comfortable so soon. It seemed Emma could take whatever speed I wanted to move things along. Indeed she was becoming the most exciting and spectacular catch of my life.

"First," I ordered, "lose the pony tail. I don't ever want to see you in a ponytail again. You hair is so beautiful it deserves to be worn down so it can hang lose."

Emma immediately removed the hair tie and shook her head to allow her hair to hang free on her shoulders.

"Next take off your top."

Emma reached behind her neck and pulled lose that tie. 

Immediately the top shifted down, pulled by the weight of her massive boobs. The fabric making up the body of the top was hugging them as they strained for release. Her nipples stood out plainly behind the stretch material. I smiled as I noticed them becoming hard and erect. "She is aroused by this," I thought.

She quickly reached around her back and pulled on that tie. The top literally sprung off her as her tits exploded out of it. Even without it they still afforded her remarkable cleavage and had amazing youthful support. Her nipples were hard and pointed, probably close to 3/4 of an inch long.

Quite pleased with these assets I couldn't wait to see the rest of her endowments. "And now the skirt," I said imperiously.

Sensing this was next she had already begun to move her hands toward the zipper in the back. She quickly unzipped and pulled the skirt down over her taught, muscular glutes that thrust out oh so wondrously. Once past her ass the skirt fell unimpeded to the floor where she stepped out of them.

It was hard to believe anything could match her amazing DD cup 40 inch breasts but her ass and cunt came very close. Her pubic area was shaved smooth and she wore a minimal red G string, with just enough of an oval-shaped piece of fabric to barely cover her slit and cunt hole, which clung to her so tightly her cunt lips were clearly outlined. To top it off it was soaked with pre-cum as this strip-tease was clearly arousing her. The back string below her waist quickly disappeared from view between her muscular, bubble-like ass cheeks. Emma's body just did not quit.

Maintaining my composure, and trying to project an air that what I was seeing was all quite expected I then ordered, "Prepare me for fucking you." I was curious to see how she would go about this, not that it was going to take much.

Without hesitation she approached me and unbuckling my belt and unzipping my pants she pulled my trousers to the floor. Then she rubbed and gently squeezed my cock, which was already rock hard, slowly through my briefs for a minute. Then she pulled my briefs down, careful to reach in and hold my cock up to get it free. With my briefs and trousers around my ankles she knelt to the floor. She paused for just an instant taking in my immense size and probably wondering how she could ever accommodate me. Then, with my cock pointing straight out at her face she stuck out her tongue and began to slowly lick the head, sticking the tip of her tongue into my cock-hole. Within a minute she started to take long licks up and down my shaft. Finally she placed her mouth at my cockhead, and slowly pushed, taking me inside her mouth. I never became so hard in my life, and as she took me deeper and deeper I knew that if this went on much longer I was going to lose it. Clearly she already had a lot of talent in this area.

"Very good Emma, I am ready for you know. Go lie down on the bed on your back."

After doing so I further ordered, "Now take off your cum-soaked G-string and put it in your mouth. Until I say otherwise you are to keep your mouth closed tightly and suck hard on it."

Again she did so without comment or without facial expression as she now tasted her own cum. I sensed through our connection that this was not a first. Emma was becoming more interesting all the time.

"Now spread your legs wide and put your arms over your head," I ordered.

When she had done I took her hands and cuffed them together to the headboard.

"Now Emma I want you to keep your legs straight and raise them, bending at the waist, and bring them over your head to the corner posts of the headboard." Noting her very respectable six-pack abs and powerful legs (another reason to love her body) I knew she would have no problem with this maneuver. And indeed she did so with little apparent effort. When each foot neared a corner post I took it, and cuffed it to the nearby corner post. I did hear a faint grunt from her as I stretched her legs even wider to do this. They were now stretched as wide as they could go and the muscles on them were standing out noticeably.

In this position her cunt and asshole, centered between her beautiful ass cheeks, were deliciously wide open and accessible to me, and most particularly, to my cock. First things first however as I leaned over her and with a deliberate slowness I began to gently lick around the lips and folds of her cunt, which glistened with her cum. She had the most beautiful pussy, and I was going to take my time for the enjoyment of both of us. As I lapped up her honey, I could hear her breathing become more rapid, and even though she was obeying me by clamping hard on her G-string in her mouth I could hear moans begin to escape from her. Even though I would soon own her and she would be my slut and cunt slave I wanted her to enjoy her passage to womanhood.

Opening my mouth I began to suck gently on her cunt folds. I found her clitoris and suckled on it gently. All the time her groans grew louder, even though her closed mouth and the G-string she was sucking on tightly. Her clitoris stiffened as I continued my oral administrations. Seeing her arousal and knowing what soon was to come (cum) my cock grew even harder. I thrust my tongue into her vagina as deeply as I could, curling it up to rub her upper wall searching for that magic G-spot. When I found it I flicked my tongue across it as fast as I could. Fortunately I have the ability to extend my tongue more than average, and with all the practice I have had at this I was a pro at stimulating a woman. 

Emma began to thrash about and I could sense her orgasm was close. Even though the link allows me to control, to instigate or suppress, her orgasm, I did not interfere. This orgasm, on the cusp of her deflowering, should be special and I wanted it to happen naturally. I began to alternate between stimulating her clit and her G-spot, thrusting my tongue deeply and rapidly in-and-out of her cunt. Now she was shaking and thrashing against her bonds. I knew it was only a matter of seconds.

Suddenly her body tensed, she let out the loudest moan possible through her clenched mouth, and I felt her genital fluids gush out, produced by her par urethral glands in the throes of her orgasm. I sucked and licked hungrily pressing my mouth over her entire cunt hole, capturing and savoring her offering.

As she calmed down I straightened up and said soothingly, "Emma, it is time to make you a true woman." I wanted to act quickly knowing that her post-orgasmic bliss would take the edge from the pain of popping her cherry. Also, using my control, I am also able to mitigate some of her discomfort.

Emma nodded dreamily as she was enjoying what I could sense was her most powerful orgasm yet. "That is just the first of many for you," I thought with satisfaction.

I straddled myself over her as the hole I was targeting first was pointed straight up due to the way she was bound. I pressed the tip of my very rigid cock against her cunt hole and slowly pressed downward. As she was quite wet from her orgasm lubrication was not a problem but I could tell my large girth was stretching her. As I slowly pushed in my cock head soon hit her maiden barrier. "OK Emma, hold on," I thought and projected soothing thoughts through our connection as I lunged downward, using my body weight, tearing through her virginal membrane.

Emma let out a quick whimper, but then smiled at me and nodded. She gave a thumbs up signal from one of her bound hands and I proceeded downward, sinking my cock to the hilt in her cunt. She started to moan again as her cunt struggled to take me in. I slowly withdrew partially before thrusting down again.

She began to moan softly again, but I sensed that now these were moans of sexual pleasure. She evidently experienced little if any pain in the process, which was a first for any of the girls I had deflowered. Relieved at this realization and knowing that she was now used to my size I quickly worked up to a frenzy, jack-hammering her relentlessly. I felt a crescendo of sexual pleasure building in her that was somehow rebounding, through our link, to increase my pleasure as well. This was unprecedented, seeing how our connection had not yet been consummated by the sex act, but I was too caught up in my own oncoming orgasm to reflect much on it now.

I drilled her harder and faster, and she moaned louder and louder, until finally, she opened her mouth and let out a howl as we climaxed simultaneously, me injecting copious amounts of my warm seed in her and her giving my male spear a fresh coating of her cum.

After we both calmed down I dismounted her. Emma gave me not a submissive look, but an adoring and thankful one. I could sense that she had been waiting for this step in her life for a long time and was happy it had finally come.

I leaned over her and whispered, "You are now my cunt, my slut slave. I will now mark your asshole as mine." Indeed now the link, and my control over her, was permanent and at its strongest. She not only would be unable to deny me anything, and be pleased and happy to service me in any way that would bring me pleasure.

I slowly pushed my index finger deep into her asshole as I knew it would be tight. It was and with my mind I projected pleasure to her. She had absolutely no fear in her and I sensed a curiosity, a desire for this new experience. It was easy for me to help her to relax her sphincter muscles. "This is going to be easier than I thought," I said to myself, amazed again at her composure.

Wriggling my finger and feeling her muscles relaxing I inserted a second finger. Her anal ring slowly parted its muscles relaxing even more, to accept the additional girth. So I added a third finger knowing that I would need her wide open and began to plunge them in and out of her. Nothing more than a few whimpers from her and her anal muscle rings were now sufficiently open. I withdrew my fingers and again leaned forward and dipped my cock into her still sopping pussy to re-lubricate it. I pressed the three fingers I had just used against her lips and knowing what I wanted her to do she willing took my fingers in her and sucked them clean, despite the G-string that was still nestled in mouth.

Wasting no more time I withdrew from her cunt hole and pressed into her anal opening. Even though it was still gaping open from my three fingers it still required some pushing to take in this new, significantly wider, anal invader. I pulsed slowly as I moved deeper inside her allowing her to adjust as my cock was going to be sinking in much deeper than my fingers. But, in less than a moment I was all the way in her. I heard some mewling from her, but sensed it was as much from pleasure as from discomfort.




Emma Ch. 01



"Amazing," I thought, "she is already adapted to, and ready for, anal sex." With no further ado I began to plunge in and out of her rapidly, my balls slapping against her ass cheeks and the insides of my thighs. As this was such a power trip for me, and to demonstrate to her my control over her, I spent the next 10 minutes furiously fucking her ass, sending waves of pleasure her way through our connection.

As my orgasm began to build I sensed one building in her as well. Although I could have forced her orgasm to align with mine, I decided on a more natural approach and plunged two fingers into her cunt and began to rub furiously over her clitoris and G-spot. Neither one of us was going to be able to last much longer now. After a few more seconds I plunged my male rod balls deep into her willing asshole and held there spewing large amounts of my cum deep into her bowels. At the same time her orgasm overcame her and she howled as every muscle between her legs clamped down on their male invader. It was the most awesome massage my cock had ever experienced and she had her most intense orgasm thus far.

But, all good things must come to an end, or at least pause, so after a few minutes, when I began to soften, I withdrew, and grabbing a butt plug I had kept handy on the bedside table just for this moment, I inserted it in her trapping my cum offering to use later.

I unbound her legs and Emma let them fall gratefully onto the bed as I could tell they were weary from being stretched for so long. Now there was one last duty to teach Emma in this lesson. With her legs out of the way I crawled over her, and straddling her face, I pressed my cock against her lips which parted eagerly. I fished out the G-string which I'm sure had long ago been sucked clean of her cum, and I pushed in. She would need all of her mouth to accommodate my cock which, in a few seconds, would be back at full hardness.

She took me in her mouth as I fed her every inch. "Stick out your tongue and lick my balls, it will help you open up to all of me," I ordered. She did so and I pushed my cock in the rest of the way, her lips pressed up against my balls and her tongue eagerly swiping the bottom of them. "What a trooper," I thought. "Excellent," I told her aloud as my cock head was nestled into her throat. I used the link to help her suppress her gag reflex. After a few seconds though I backed off so that she would know that I would always allow her a time to breathe. However she would have to learn breath control so that she could hold me in longer.

I then proceeded to face fuck her, every few seconds pushing all the way into her throat, holding a few seconds, and then backing halfway out allowing her a breath. I gradually increased the time I was in her throat until I reached 30 seconds. "Switch between humming and swallowing when I am in your throat," I ordered. And when she began to do that I sent the sensation of increased pleasure over the link to reinforce the lesson that this is what she must do.

Finally, after a few minutes I was ready again. I held deep in her throat, her nose pressed deep against my torso, and began to unload my largest torrent of cum yet. Because I was into her throat my cream spurted directly into her belly. At the same time I used the link to give her an orgasm. She was incredible. As she thrashed about in the throes of her own orgasmic pleasure she never lost focus of pleasuring me with her throat.

"Take my gift of nourishment, my cunt, my slut slave. Use it to grow stronger to service me better," I cooed at her. She nodded and smiled as she licked my cock clean and sucked hard on it to extract all traces of my ejaculate. I could sense contentment and a sense of accomplishment at servicing me with all of her holes.

I unbound her hands and then hugged her and kissed her deeply. "You are now mine, and when we are alone or with my other slaves you will address me as 'Master', understand?"

She hugged me back hard, nodded, and gratefully replied, "Yes, Master. I am your cunt, your slut slave and I know my place and now live to serve you with all my heart and abilities. Command me!"

With her open-ended commitment she demonstrated how outstanding she was in being so aggressively submissive to me. "Emma is indeed special," I thought.

"Cunt, there is one last lesson for you to learn now, and that is to clean out my cum from your ass. Use your fingers to scoop out my cum and lick them clean," I instructed as I removed the butt plug. She used her fingers to quickly scoop out the fluids in her asshole and transfer them to her mouth where she sucked them clean and swallowed. She worked so diligently that she was done in no time, moaning and smiling as she enjoyed her cum treat.

"This is your butt plug now," I said handing it back to her. "Use it to stretch your ass for my plunder and to trap the nourishment I leave for you there." She took it gratefully and sucked it clean of our combined juices from her ass. "Such a total, submissive sex slave," I marveled to myself. "Already she is thinking on her own ways to show even more devotion and submission to me."

...


In no time I collected a "harem" of girls under my control and I could pick and choose sex with any of them depending on my mood, my taste at the moment, and opportunity. I had become quite experienced in all types of sex and positions and I often fucked them anally and orally in addition to vaginally.

This led me to eventually realize other benefits of my power. Normal males I guess ejaculate at most a couple tablespoons of semen and usually require hours of recovery after two or three orgasms. I, on average, ejaculate close to a quarter cup of cum, and more if unusually stimulated. I can easily orgasm six, seven, or even eight times before reaching my limit. Thus cumming several times in a short period of time, in multiple female orifices, of the same or different women, is not an issue for me. In addition I soon discovered from researching porn sites that I was much more endowed than the average male, my erect cock being 7-8" in length and just under 2" in diameter. I considered this to be an ideal size as I could usually fuck a woman to the hilt in her cunt without being stopped by her cervix and my girth afforded my cock a very pleasant massage from my tight fit in their orifices. I suppose it was harder on them at first as I had to stretch them more, but that was not much of a concern for me.

Having a practically unlimited supply of girls, for various reasons I would just let some of them go (not contact them for sex anymore) from my harem and they would be none the worse for wear. Actually they benefited from their service to me in their future relationships as they would have all of the sexual knowledge and training I gave them and I'm sure they made wonderful sexual partners for any subsequent men. The link I had with them would always be there, should I want to use it, but if it went unused there was no consequence to them as I would just instill in them a desire to "move on."

However, there was a time (which I am not proud of now) when I actually "sold" the services of some of my girls to other guys. Careful not to reveal my power, I would "sell" a particular girl to a guy letting him know that she was used to fair and loving treatment and if she received otherwise she would be free to leave him. With my control I would instruct her to obey the guy unless he became abusive. This is not activity to be particularly proud of but at least I tried to ensure the girls were well cared for. Besides I used this income to finance my way through college. Speaking of which, my college years were like a jackpot for female companionship. I was never without a date whenever I wanted one, and I had some of my best sex up to that point, with the hottest of girls. >>>

...

Looking at Emma, my most gorgeous conquest ever, I instructed her to arrange for me, as soon as possible, to meet her roommates at their place. I knew she would do that, the only unknown being the exact time. After that the pieces of my plan would rapidly fall into place.



Emma Ch. 01



Emma slipped into bed after pulling on a cotton sleeping gown, bone tired but feeling better after the hot shower. School and work five days a week did that to a girl. She was just glad that her weekend had come at last. Despite her damp hair, as soon as her head hit the pillow she fell asleep. She did not remain so for long.

Still hazy from sleep and unwilling to wake, she thought she dreamt the feeling of her bedcovers being lifted slowly from her body, exposing her to the chill of the autumn air. She curled to her side and balled into herself with a small whimper. Even when a large warm hand palmed her bared thigh she just sighed and fought the urge of wakefulness. And when a large naked body followed she only unfurled herself to welcome the heat into her bed. The large hard body stiffened in response, but she only smiled and pressed every inch of herself to her dream companion, thankful that at least in her dreams she had someone to hold and someone to hold her back. 

"God you're so sweet." Said a gruff voice into her hair, and she felt a sharp chilled nose nuzzling into the arch of her neck. The nose tickled but the voice and the words brought a pleasant sensation spiraling from low in her belly to the intimate space between her thighs. The sudden arousal caused her to press her thighs together and hum with pleasure.

"Fuck." The deep voice was breathy against her neck, and she moved her head to expose more of her skin to it.

In response, the hand at her thigh gripped harder onto her aching flesh and a heated wet mouth took advantage of the neck she so readily exposed, urgently kissing and sucking her there.

"Oooh..." She moaned aloud, finally starting to wake, but still barely registering her situation.

Another hand slipped under her head and turned her face up and then the mouth descended hot and hard onto her surprised mouth. A hot searching tongue licked inside her mouth, tasting until a primal groan seemed to almost be wrenched from her dream man. She jolted to full consciousness just as the hard male body rolled her onto her back and shifted between her thighs before laying its full weight on to her in a smooth movement.

She let out a strangled cry into the devouring mouth above hers, and stiffened in shock. All she could see was black in the dark room, but she could FEEL him, and it was definitely a him. She could feel the large muscled body covering hers, felt scrape of the short bristles of a shaven face with every kiss, but most of all she could feel the very hard to ignore oversized cock that pressed against the slit of her cunt.

Confusion, fear, and arousal seized in her chest as she finally began to protest, tearing her mouth away from the insistent hungry mouth taking hers, and cried, "GET OFF OF ME!" She sounded just as terrified as she felt, but it fueled her strength as she began shoving, bucking, and kicking out in an effort to remove the uninvited guest from herself.

"Stop. Stop." The voice commanded softly as they struggled.

"NO! GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" 

Her balled fist collided with a strong jaw, shocking her assailant enough the stop fighting with her. She managed to sit up a little and pull their bodies from contact, but he recovered quickly. His palm cracked against her cheek, stunning her but she was glad to realize he hadn't put much strength in that slap or she would be out cold. Her relief was short-lived because in the next minute he seized her throat hard and shoved her back down into the pillows, pinning her there.

She couldn't breathe and her eyes were beginning to bulge from pressure of blood that filled her head. She shoved at his immovable chest, but that only made him tighten his one handed grip on her neck until she only had strength to uselessly pry at his strong fingers. At that moment, she truly feared that this would be how she died, and at that thought, the sting of tears burned in her eyes until they seeped from the corners of her eyes and into the hair at her temples.

She registered the sound of a click just before the dark room was bathed in the bright light of the lamp at her bedside table, revealing the scowling familiar face of her attacker.

William.

At the sight of her face, his expression softened and he let off on the pressure of his hand against her throat. She took heaving gasps of air, relieved but scared of what was to come. She tensed warily as he used the back of his fingers to brush away her tears.

"Do not hit me again Emma." His voice was deep and hard, and unfamiliar to her even though she had been acquainted with him for a few years now. She had heard it only a few times during the one-sided conversations she engaged him in, weekly. 

William, as he was known to her, was a handsome six-foot-something man that regularly shopped at the grocery store where she was employed. She had always had a soft spot for him not only because he was handsome in a dark rough sort of way, but also because he was so grossly unaware of it and so very awkward. He was a dark, unapproachable, oddball customer that usually shopped for at least an hour only to buy the same things every time; a bag of fuji apples, wheat bread, cheddar cheese, turkey meat, orange juice, and exactly one other item that differed from week to week upon her recommendation.

She had found it endearing and amusing to watch him stalking through the aisles, perusing the products, but never adding to his basket. He was anything but endearing now. He had successfully scared the fuck out of her. How had he known where she lived? How did he get into her apartment?

When she finally got her breaths under control, she asked him just that.

"I followed you home. I always do." He said it matter-of-factly, as if that was the most natural and normal thing for a man to do.

She swallowed hard, noting that it hurt to do so. Her throat was likely bruised.

"As for how I got in, I used the bathroom window from the roof." 

She was unwillingly impressed by his answer. Her apartment was at the top floor of three floors, and her bathroom window was not accessible by any stairs or near anything climbable. It was for that reason that she had not worried about leaving it wide open, especially when the bathroom tended to develop mold when it was not properly aerated. That had been a mistake, apparently, because he had gained access to her apartment by going to the roof top and swinging in from the ledge overhanging the window. It was a dangerous feat, made by a dangerous man. A dangerous man who was presently leaning naked over her, a hand at her throat and the other stroking her cheek, looking at her with a strange glint in his eyes.

"Please don't hurt me." She pleaded stock still beneath him as more tears seeped from her eyes.

"I will try not to." She was dismayed at his words and by his pleasant deep voice, a voice that under any other circumstances, she would have adored.

"You don't have to do anything, William. You can still leave. I won't go to the police. I promise."

"I don't want to leave. And you won't go to the police either way." He said with an edge to his tone that promised dark consequences.

His eyes lowered to her the exposed pink flesh between her thighs. Her gown had rode up to her hips during their struggle, and her thighs were spread wide to accommodate his big body. She saw desire burn to life in his eyes and his nose flared.

Emma tried to close her legs, but one of his hand shot out to clamp the inside of her knee, forcing her leg up to her chest and spreading it wide. 

"DON'T!" She tried to kick at him again but he dodged deftly and gave her throat a warning squeeze.

"Please!" She pleaded, more scared than she had ever been in her life, especially when she looked down between his legs and was taken aback at the sheer size of him. Did he think to fit that enormous cock into her?

"I can't stop. I won't stop. I have never wanted anything more in my life." He told her before surging forward and bringing their mouths crashing together in a painfully bruising kiss. 

When his tongue plunged into her mouth she was reminded again at how good he really tasted and was instantly disgusted at herself. Then she was angry, both at herself and at him. How dare he do this to her when she had done nothing but try to be good to him! She bit down on his tongue, but before she could do real damage he slapped her again, hard this time.

She gasped out in pain releasing him, and shutting her eyes against the stars that sparked in her vision.

His mouth took hers savagely again, and this time he bit her bruised bottom lip. She cried out in surprised pain, forcing back her tears and stared up defiantly up at him. His dark brown eyes bore down on her, and said against her lips, "Willing or not, I will be fucking you Emma. You decide how much damage will be done."

She started a true struggle at his words. Fighting and screaming for help. In turn, he began to strangle her in earnest, not stopping until she was limp and nearly passed out. As she fought for breaths and against unconsciousness, he took the opportunity to tie her wrists together, binding them to the metal frame of her headboard and stuffing some sort of cloth into her mouth to muffle her cries.

She was sobbing now, kicking at him until he took her by the back of her knees and forced her legs wide for him. She could feel the cold air on her opening as she watched him staring at her pussy in hunger.

"Please, please, please don't!" she begged, but he didn't seem to acknowledge the muffled pleas.

Instead he lowered his face without a word and just pressed his lips to her pussy in a gentle kiss. She ceased her struggles, stunned by his care and the sensation. She had only been with one man, and he had never done this for her. He pulled away, glanced up at her with a flush to his cheeks and she saw his tongue come out between his lips to taste her on them.

The bastard was so fucking handsome! Arousal coiled inside of her at the sight of the pleasure that crossed his face. She was breathing hard, her heart slamming in her chest from something that did not feel remotely like fear, anger, or disgust. 

"Emma." His voice was guttural as he said her name as if in devastation, their eyes locked together.

Then he lowered his head and kissed her again, just as gently as before, using just his lips. With every press his mouth parted a bit until she felt a hint of moisture and the searing heat at the inside of his lips. He kissed her pussy reverently like a lover kisses the mouth of his cherished woman. Her hips gave an involuntary roll, but she managed to stifle her moan. She was horrified that she was both aroused and eager for more.

His hands caressed down her thighs and around to cup her soft ass lifting her up so that he could have better access. When he kissed her next, his hot mouth opened on to her moistening cunt and his tongue swiped up slow and firm into the seam. She shuddered and moaned, head thrown back and eyes sliding closed in pleasure. He hummed a pleased sound at her flavor that made her pussy tingle and secrete her juices. He bathed and lapped at her slit with the flat of his tongue several times before he delved it deep inside her for more of her.

She gave a loud but muffled cry.

"I love the way you taste."

They were the words of a lover, but she was not his lover, and he was not her lover. He had stole into her home and forced himself on her, but she was worse than he was because her body welcomed him.

She surprised him and herself when she kicked hard at his shoulder. He stumbled backwards on his haunches and caught himself with an arm behind his back on the bed. 

Furious was describing the look on his face mildly when she looked at him.

He was on her in a flash, backhanding her hard. Then he twisted his fist into her hair at the nape and yanked her head back.

"You fight me as if you don't want me but you do!" He said fiercely. 

He grabbed her hand and forced her to touch herself. He was right. The evidence of how much she liked it was there. She was sopping wet even though he had done little more than kiss her, almost innocently.

His next slap landed on her pussy, and she bucked, her eyes wide on him in surprise at the sting. His lips curled with a hint of cruelty at her reaction and he voiced the feelings that she dared not acknowledge.

"You even liked that. Didn't you?" 

She shook her head struggling against him and the bonds, tears gathering in her eyes from the humiliating words.

He smacked her there again, and she moaned in answer. He did it again. She sobbed. He did it twice more and she could hear how wet she became with every strike. Then, without warning two of his fingers plunged rough and deep into her cunt, and she made a strangled noise, tears trickling from her eyes. It had hurt. She had not been with a man since she was nineteen. That was six years ago.

"Fuck you are so tight, but you see, you are also very, very wet." He brought his fingers up to show her the evidence, his large middle and ring fingers were liberally coated in her juices.

She took a sharp breath through her nose when brought those to fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. Then he unceremoniously, shoved them back up her pussy hole again, and she noted that though she was tight around him, her juices made it a smooth glide. In and out, they moved, slowly at first and building momentum until his hands were plunging her hot pussy in a blur. Her wet hole made squishing sounds as he finger fucked her, and she let her legs fall wide open, toes curling at the almost painful sensation.

She cried out in more pain than pleasure when he shoved a third finger into her. He used one hand to tilt her hips up, and then he was hitting her g-spot over and over until she was writhing and pleading with him again. The walls over her pussy was stretched tight around his unforgiving digits and the ache of her opening up for him brought as much pleasure as when he managed to hit her sweet spot.

"I'm gonna fuck your tight cunt hard," He rasped in her ear gathering her gown to push it up over her chest to her underarms so that her breast were laid bare. "And it will hurt. But you will like it." 

The promised words followed by his mouth descending on her peaked dark pink nipple brought the beginnings of her climax. When he started to chew not so gently on her tits with his teeth, it did it for her, and she came bucking and crying out as her pussywalls clamped hard around his finger.

She was still dazed when the cloth was pulled out of her mouth and he was kissing her again. This time she kissed him back desperately, her body even more aroused after her orgasm. He pulled away and climbed up over her body until the tip of his broad cockhead was pressed against the seam of her lips.

"Open up."

She stared in fear at the size of him. He was ten inches long and thick as hell. The bulbous head was red, broad, and seeping. Her mouth watered even as she took in the ridges of veins that strained under the surface of the otherwise smooth skin of his cock.

"Take my cock!"

Reluctantly, she opened her mouth wide and he pushed in without a care causing her to gag.

"Watch your teeth. If you bite me, I will beat the fuck out of you."

He didn't have to threaten though. She loved the feel and tasted of him in her mouth. It excited her more than it ought to every time he threatened to choke her as he fucked her throat. She sucked and slurped for his semen, discovering that she had a taste for cock and cum.

She glanced up to see him grinning down at her.

"You look like such a slut, gagging on my cock."

Offended, she pulled her head back and smacked it against the headboard. Maddeningly, he laughed at her.

"Fuck you!" She glared at him.

Anger flared in his eyes, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he slid down her body and lined her cock up to her cunt.

"Wait!" That was all she managed to get out, before she was breathless from the pain of him thrusting his cock hard into her in one practiced movement.

"Fuck! You are so small."

She whimpered as he dragged his cock back out slowly. Her legs were quivering at his sides.

She looked down as he plunged his cock back into her and realized that though she felt filled to capacity, and her pussy was screaming from being stretched so taut, there was still a few inches of him that she had not taken.

She gave him a look of disbelief.

"This is usually as far as a woman will allow me to go in her." He told her. Then he kissed her lips, more gently this time. "You will take all of me, always."

He pulled back and drove in hard and insistent, she yelped in pain but her pussy took in another inch. He went rigid and dropped his sweaty forehead between her heaving small breasts.

"Please pull out! You're hurting me!" She cried out.

"Take my cock Emma." His words were soft, almost like a plea.

She felt like crying as he dragged his cock from her again. Her pussy was smarting.

She bent forward and kissed the top of his head and he looked up, surprise etched on his face. "Please stop. I can't take more of you."

He leaned up and captured her lips. He kissed her so reverently that her chest ached, but he didn't stop. His cock thrust in and out of her with gentle rolls of his hips, not forcing more upon her than what he had already managed. His fingers played with her sensitive breast, occasionally using his mouth instead of his fingers. 

Desire coiled in her belly, and even though he was hurting her and was too large, she was beginning to like the feel of him inside of her. She kissed him back hesitantly when he sought out her mouth again. He seemed torn between eating at her mouth and suckling at her breasts. She didn't have the nerves to voice that she liked that he was doing both. It seemed wrong to take such pleasure with him.

One of his arms curled behind her lower back and lifted her hips up at a better angle, while his other hand stopped its ministrations on her breasts and slid down her smooth flat belly to rub at her clit. She grew wetter around him, her hands a white-knuckled grip around the bondages as she could feel herself building to another climax.

When he next brought his face to hers, he pressed his lips to hers and murmured, "I'm sorry." And before she could react, he sank into to her with a hard snap of his hips, and his cock was lodged to the hilt within her.

She cried out at the pain of his invasion. Tears seeping from her eyes, as she was sure that he had just torn her open.

"Take me sweetheart. Take me in your pussy." He encouraged her as he continued his measured insistent thrusts. His words, his fingers at her clits, his sweet kisses to her damp temples, made it easier, but hardly less painful.

Still, she was taking all of him inside of her. Her petite body was accommodating the huge cock that pulled out to the tip and sank back in to the hilt. It fucking hurt, but it was sexy as hell that he had made her take it; that with every thrust of his hips, his movements were less controlled, less careful, and less slow. She hardly knew what she was asking for when she nuzzled he face into his jaw and kissed him there searchingly, but he seemed to know.

He enfolded her in his arms, and kissed her lips frantically as he plunged his cock into her. "So good baby. Your pussy feels so good." He grunted.

Emma cried out and he covered her scream with his mouth. His hammering thrusts were causing her cheaply made bed to creak. Her cunt was dripping wet and was stinging not so unpleasantly. Obscenely wet sounds mingled with her hitching sobs as he pummeled her sore tingling pussy.

"William." She gasped at a particularly vicious thrust that had her toes curling.

"Fuck Emma! Look at you taking my cock."

She looked down their bodies to where they were joined and saw how tightly her small pussy engulfed the too-thick length of him. She saw how red her pussy was growing from overstretching and the friction of his punishing fuck. What was more, she saw the creamy evidence of her enjoyment coating his hammering cock and she knew that she would never be the same after this. He had literally turned her pussy in and out; taught it to want only the size, length, heat, and feel of him.




Emma Ch. 01



She wound her legs high around his waist and gave into to his rhythm. Her walls clamped tight around him and she was moaning perpetually in synchronicity with the smacking sound of his hips against hers. And then with a small adjustment of his hips he had found her sweet spot again and he fucked into her relentlessly, hitting her in that spot unerringly. She bit her lips as pain mingled with pleasure and threatened to make her come undone.

"Oh god, yes! Fuck me!" The words were barely a whisper but he had heard her. 

"You're mine. Mine!" He growled into her ear as slammed into her in frenzy, his muscled arms wound tight enough around her small body to make her breathing difficult.

Not that she felt much like breathing at the moment. In fact she had sucked in a deep breath at his pronouncement and held it there in her chest, not daring to breath another breath as she was hurled toward the precipice. When she did, the breath came rushing out between gritted teeth.

Her orgasm burst forth from her quite literally as she squirted her juices all over him. Her body quaked and convulsed, her cry a guttural strangled sound, and her cunt hot, sore, and milking his stabbing cock. 

"Fuck Emma, I'm gonna come!"

He hammered once, twice, thrice, and then he pulled out, dislodging himself with a wet popping noise and squirted globs and globs of his semen onto the entrance of her swollen abused pussy.

She was sobbing and trembling from the pleasure he just dealt her, but felt oddly bereft and hollow too. Her pussy felt empty with out his cock wedge inside her, but more importantly he had robbed her of the sensation of his hot thick cum bathing the smarting walls of her vagina.

Emma barely registered the fact that he was fussing with her bonds, but when her hands were freed, instead of pushing him away, she launched herself into his chest, wrapped arms and legs about him, and sobbed into his shoulder. She wanted his comfort and he provided it, bringing her chest to his and lifting her onto his lap, his arms surrounding her in a snug embrace.

"I'm sorry, Emma. I'm sorry."

She couldn't tell him that she wanted him inside her, or that she had wanted his cum. It didn't make sense, and yet she yearned for it. So, she continued to cry until she fell asleep, exhausted and unfulfilled but with his warmth all around her.



Emma Ch. 01



It's funny how random events can impact our lives. One day, you're on what you believe is a carefully planned path. Then it all goes sideways and you find yourself doing things you'd barely considered. This doesn't have to be bad, quite the contrary, but sometimes it does feel like you've hit an off-ramp from Highway Normal at 90 miles an hour and ended up instead in some weird neighborhood in Twistedville. The odd bit is that if you give it a chance, you may just decide you like it enough to settle in and stay.

Emma and I had been married less than a year when our marriage sailed into parts unknown. It turned out to be a hell of a detour, but in the end one we're both glad we took. She's 22, and blessed with girl next door good looks. She was a gymnast in high school and college, as well as part of the dance team. At 5'2" and 105 pounds, she is an incredibly fit blue-eyed blonde and prides herself in staying in shape. As a football and soccer jock in high school and college, I had to really work the weights too. I'm 6 feet tall and these days about 195 pounds. I think Emma's the hottest woman I've ever known and count myself fortunate that my interest and appreciation has always been returned. 

Our love life has always been great. We're not particularly freaky, but we've always been open minded and willing to explore. With a thick 8 inch cock, I've never had any trouble satisfying Emma, and she's always been able to get me off whenever she's in the mood, which is often. Emma is outgoing and friendly. She's also loves to flirt, particularly if I'm there to watch. From time to time she dresses provocatively and we go out to a bar, entering separately and a few minutes apart. I get a drink and sit at the bar while she flirts and dances with guys. She'll make out a little and sometimes let the guy feel her up while they're dancing, but at the end of the evening we head home together. Her teasing turns us both on and more than once she's warned me that if I don't watch out she just might go home instead with the other guy. She was – at least I thought at the time -- more into the idea than the reality, but it's powerful for both of us and we always have intense love-making when we get back to the house.

We'd been married about eight months when we decided to take a week off from work and head to the beachfront house Emma's family owns on the barrier islands just north of the South Carolina border. It was early season but warm enough to get some sun and take a quick dip in the still-cold water. We were chilling on our beach blanket when I saw a car pull into the nearby parking lot, disgorging a young-looking couple who pulled out beach stuff and walked onto the sand near where we were situated. They smiled as they walked past, and I did the same in return. They set up nearby, laid out their blanket, and stripped down to their bathing suits. They were close enough for me to see that they were both really ripped and corded with muscle, like weightlifters without the grotesquely hyper-developed muscles. They also looked pretty young – college students perhaps.

After an hour had passed I needed to use the head, so I went back up into the beach house. When I came back outside, I saw that the nearby strangers were sitting on the sand next to our blanket and engaged in an animated discussion with Emma. As I approached, I could see that both the guy and the girl were even younger up close than they had initially appeared at a distance. The guy stood up and offered his hand, which I shook.

"Hi, sir," he said. "I'm Jack, but you can call me Jake. Everyone does." The girl smirked as he said it. He tipped his head in the direction of the young lady. "This is my girlfriend Amy."

I smiled. "Pleased to meet you both. I'm Ryan, and I guess you've already met my wife Emma." I took a moment to check them both out. Jack – or Jake – was my height. Though young, he exuded an air of quiet confidence. His smile was warm, but his piercing blue eyes were more clinical and calculating, dispassionately assessing both me and Emma. His light brown hair – what there was of it – was cut high and tight in a military-style buzz. Jake was clearly fit and strong, like a coiled steel spring. He managed to convey both friendliness and menace at the same time.

Amy was an inch or two taller than Emma, with dark green eyes and copper-colored hair. She wore it short, though there was enough of it to style into gelled spikes. Like Jake, she was compact and muscular, with six-pack abs and a tight bubble butt. Her breasts were firm and high, a bit bigger than Emma's 34a cup. She was wearing a very skimpy white bikini made out of some lightweight fabric that clung to her curves and left little to the imagination, and the top did nothing to hide the fact that both of her nipples were pierced. I was immediately aware that she was fully conscious of the fact that I'd checked out her breasts and seen the piercings, and she gave me a tight little grin in acknowledgment. She was Jake's girlfriend, but there was something a bit masculine in the way she carried herself -- not quite like she was a dyke but perhaps suggesting that she was capable of being one if she was so inclined. They made an interesting couple.

Emma explained that they were both 19 and newly minted Marines on R & R. On impulse, they'd piled in Jake's car and driven to the island to spend a few days relaxing and exploring. Having no money for a hotel or a condo rental, they'd set up camp sound-side but had been forced away by the relentless attack of greenhead flies.

I nodded in commiseration. "Those things are vicious. It's great here when the breeze blows inland, but if you're camping on the sound it can be hell," I said. "I've seen big dogs dig a pit and bury themselves in the sand just to try and get away from the bites."

Jake nodded his head ruefully. "Roger that, sir. We were hoping for a quiet few days but it looks like we're going to have to leave. Regulations say we can't camp out on the beach and it's too miserable to keep camping inland."

Emma jumped in before I could respond. "I was telling them we've got a ton of room at the house, and we're the only ones here. I thought they should stay with us," she said, "but Jake doesn't want to impose."

He nodded his head in agreement. "I know it's kind of weird asking complete strangers to stay in your house, so I thought me and Amy should just find someplace else."

"Don't be silly," Emma said. "Besides, what's the world come to if you can't trust U.S. Marines?" I'd been outmaneuvered by my outgoing and gracious wife and no matter my hesitation I could see there was nothing to do but accept defeat. Five minutes later, Amy and Jake had parked their car in our driveway and carried a duffel bag into the house. Emma and I were in the upstairs master, so Emma showed them into the adjacent "junior master." The two lavish bedroom suites each had king beds, a sitting area, and full bath, with floor-to-ceiling glass walls that looked out over the beach below to the ocean. The bedrooms shared a large deck that ran the width of the house, divided by a large hot tub.

Our new friends and guests were suitably impressed. "Hell of a view, sir" Jake opined. I told him I was in complete agreement and explained that Emma's folks had built it as a family retreat. I also told him to stop with the "sir." Meanwhile, Emma was giving Amy a tour of the house. They'd seem to hit it off and were chattering away like old friends. As they wandered out of the master, I heard Emma ask "So, why does everyone call him Jake?" Amy's response was sotto voce, quiet enough that I couldn't hear it, but I did hear Emma gasp and then the two of them start giggling. 

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly, aided no doubt by the beach drinks Emma mixed and poured liberally. We talked a lot about what was involved in being Marines. Both Jake and Amy came from hard scrabble lives, but were determined to do better and credited the Corps with giving them the discipline they needed to succeed. I liked them both, and by sundown, none of us were feeling much pain. Emma was pretty tipsy, which always made her flirty, and Jake was getting a lot of her attention. Jake was looking uncomfortable, but Emma told him to relax, adding in a stage whisper that I liked watching her flirt. Though we all seemed to be getting drunk, I noted that our guests, however, seemed to be nursing their drinks and again felt like they were both assessing the situation with some detachment.

Emma suggested that we repair to the hot tub to relax and enjoy the sunset, to which our guests enthusiastically agreed. While Amy repaired to the "powder room" in the junior master, we took a pitcher of drinks to the deck and Jake and I removed the padded cover from the tub and set the temperature and water jet controls. As Emma, Jake and I settled into the hot Jacuzzi, Amy reappeared with a small bag she set carefully on the shelf of the tub and climbed into the tub, retrieved the bag and took out the contents, which turned out to be a small pipe and a plastic film canister. She filled the bowl of the pipe with whatever was in the canister, produced a lighter and fired up the bowl, inhaling deeply. Then she turned to Jake and handed him the pipe, which he put to his lips and also inhaled, passing it back to Amy, who refilled it. Amy then gave the pipe to Emma, who put it to her lips as Jake proffered the lighter.

Though Emma and I had certainly smoked weed before, I was hesitant to do so with strangers and started to voice caution, knowing that her tolerance was low and she had a tendency to lose her social inhibitions as quickly as her usually sound sense of judgment became impaired by alcohol and weed. She made a face and waved me away. "Come on baby, loosen up! No one's around to hassle us, so let's have some fun!" she said, and before I could stop her she'd taken a huge hit off the pipe and passed it to me. 

Not wanting to be a wet blanket, I took the pipe and inhaled the fragrant and pleasant smoke, passing it again to Amy, who quickly refilled it, took what I saw was a really small toke and gave it right back to Emma. Emma again took a huge hit and sat back. As we all sat quietly and watched the gorgeous sunset display, I found myself pleasantly relaxed and in a warm and hazy sense of mind. I was vaguely aware that Amy and Jake kept the pipe going, and I noticed that every time it traveled between them, it passed through Emma. I had a notion that I should be a bit concerned about what was happening, but couldn't for the life of me remember why and just sat back, enjoying Emma's goofy grin and happy laughter. At her persistent urging, I took another hit on the pipe, though she smoked most of the bowl. It was enough to ensure I was completely out of it. I could barely imagine Emma's state of mind, given that she had done much, much more.

After a while, Amy stood up and stretched. "If no one objects, I'm going to take off my bikini," she announced. "It keeps giving me a wedgie." The only response was an enthusiastic "WooHoo!" from Emma. "Take it off! You go, girl," she cheered. In a trice, Amy was naked. She took her time sitting back down, giving us plenty of opportunity to look her over. She really was super fit. She was also hairless from her neck down. As expected, each of her nipples was pierced with a silver "barbell" and I saw that she also had a similar piercing that rose vertically through her clitoral hood. She was hard bodied and hot as hell to look at.

Emma saw that I was checking out Amy's body and stood up, wobbling a bit as she did so. "If you get a show from Amy, baby, Jake should get a show from me," she said, and slipped out of her own bikini, striking comical modeling poses as she stood facing him. "What do you think, 'Jake the Snake?' Like what you see?" Jake nodded enthusiastically. Emma smiled wickedly. "You can look all you want," she said. "and if you play your cards right maybe you can touch all you want, too." She looked right at me as she said it.

Jake the Snake? Why Jake the Snake? And where the hell did Emma get that from, I wondered. Amy could see the puzzlement on my face and slid over next to me. "Think anaconda," she grinned. "Think python, like in the biggest 'trouser snake' you'll ever see," she whispered, none too quietly. "I think your wife is really curious about it," she added in a normal speaking voice.

Emma heard her loud and clear. "C'mon, Jake," she slurred. "Show me your snake! Let's see if that monster is for real."

Before Jake moved, Amy cut into the conversation. "I you really want to see it, Emma, you have to get it hard so you get the full effect. Hands or mouth, whatever you want, but you gotta do it or no show," she said firmly. So help me, I wanted to object, to stop this train wreck before it happened. But I just couldn't move the thought into action so I sat there like I complete dick. "Deal," Emma said, and it was too late to take it back.

Jake stood up and moved closer until he was standing right in front of my wife. He just stood there, waiting. "Pull my trunks down, Emma," he said. It was a command, not a request, and Emma reached up with both hands and started to pull them down. She did it slowly, like she was savoring the wrapping on a birthday present. Though the thick shaft came into view, the trunks kept going lower and lower without revealing the head. Finally, when the trunks were almost to Jake's knees, the entire length was exposed. Emma stared at it with her eyes wide and her mouth in a silent "O" of astonishment. Released from the confines of the trunks, the massive thing curved slightly up and away from his body, swaying pendulously now that it was free. It was monstrously long and thick as a soda can. Distended veins ran the length of it, and the biggest set of balls I had ever seen hung below. As Jake stood there, his cock twitched now and again, like it had a mind of its own, animated by a single purpose: invading and stretching Emma's tight secret place and claiming it for its own. Not a word was said, but even though Emma had not yet touched Jake's cock, I knew with absolute clarity that she would give herself to him. And so help me, instead of being enraged, I was enthralled. I wanted to sit back and let it happen, to watch while Jake took my beautiful bride and fucked her until she couldn't stand up.

Like she was mesmerized, Emma reached out and took the giant cock in her hands. For a few moments, she simply held it. Then she started to caress it, rubbing her fingers lightly over the opening, circling the sensitive area under the glans and running one hand lightly up and down the shaft. Slowly, bit by bit, Jake responded to her touch, and his cock started to stiffen and engorge. In response to the persistent stroking of the glans and the opening, the cock started to release viscous clear pre-cum, which Emma used as lubricant as she stroked the shaft. Though it began to stiffen, Jake's monster cock was not fully erect. Amy spoke out. "Better suck that cock if you want to get it hard, you little slut," she said. "Get your mouth on it."

Jake pushed his cock forward so it was inches away from Emma's face. Cupping his heavy balls in one hand and the shaft in the other, she leaned forward slightly and stuck out the tip of her tongue, tentatively licking the head. After a few moments, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth as wide as she could manage, and carefully took the head in. Ever so slowly, she relaxed her jaws and leaned forward, taking the shaft deeper as she did so. When she had managed as much as she could, she slowly backed it out and then started to swallow it again, this time taking more of the shaft down her throat. Like a slow motion ballet, her head bobbed forward and back as she worked. I could hear her taking in air through her nose as she tried to avoid gagging and choking on the enormous cock that she was working steadily down her throat. Ropes of thick saliva clung to the pole when Emma came back up, and I knew she was struggling with it. Since Emma could practically deep throat my 8 inch cock when she was in the mood, I knew she was trying to do the same with Jake, though it seemed an impossible task.

As Emma worked, Jake stood motionless, looking down at the top of her head. I had to give him credit for his restraint, since even a short thrust might gag Emma and ruin her efforts. When Emma throat fucked my cock, it was maddeningly hard not to grab her head and take the active role. Only when Emma was completely relaxed, and then only when she was consciously into being sexually submissive, was it possible for me to fuck her mouth and down her throat deeply and actively. It didn't happen often, but it was insanely hot when she was willing and able. As Emma took more and more of Jake's cock down her throat, Amy suddenly slid over and started pinching and licking her pert nipples while she slipped a hand down between Emma's thighs. Emma spread her legs wide to give Amy better access, and I could hear little mews of pleasure emanating from her throat. Encouraged by the response, Amy lowered her head until she had her mouth on Emma's bare pussy and began to lick and nip the clitoris that was peeping out from the hood. As her arousal grew, Emma began taking more of the massive cock down her throat, until all but about two inches had disappeared from view. It was a simply astonishing performance, augmented by a soundtrack of increasingly urgent grunts, murmurs, and groans of pleasure. I could see Emma's thighs begin to tremble and she suddenly grabbed Jake's muscular ass in both hands, pulling him forward until her mouth was pressed completely to his rock hard abdomen, making muffled and repetitive "Mmmm! Mmmm! Mmmm!" noises of pleasure as her whole body shook from the force of her orgasm. Only when the climax had fully subsided did she let go of Jake's ass and slide back until his cock head was out of her mouth.

Amy returned to sit next to me once again. "That was just fucking amazing!" she said. "I have never, ever, seen anyone female or male get that much of Jake's cock down their throat, let alone taking it right to the base. Your wife is one hot little bitch, isn't she?" I could only nod in stunned agreement. Amy reloaded the pipe and lit if for me while I took a small hit. Then she slid back to Emma, who was too dazed to take it from her. Instead, Amy carefully reversed it and shot-gunned a long steady stream of smoke into Emma's open mouth, letter her inhale the entire bowl, which she did willingly. We all sat for a moment until Amy broke the silence. "We need to get out of the tub and head to the bedroom. It's time for Emma's other mouth to get fucked," she said. It wasn't just a suggestion, but I didn't object. I dropped my trunks and joined Jake and Amy as we toweled off. Emma stood there, apparently too zoned out from her orgasm and the weed to dry herself, so Amy took care of it for her, and then steered her into our master, settling my wife on the edge of the bed. 

"I'll get the lube," Amy announced, to which I replied that I'd get the condoms from the bathroom. "No condoms," she replied. "Jake fucks married pussy bareback and he's STD-tested and clean. Besides, he's more likely than not to rip right through them." I explained that Emma had only just started on the pill for the first time and her gynecologist had told her to keep using condoms for two months, just to be sure it was safe. Amy shrugged. "Like I said, Jake fucks married sluts bareback. Let's not ruin the mood. Jake will fuck your wife bare and she can make up her own mind where he cums. If she doesn't want his cum in her pussy, he can shoot on her tits or on her face and in her mouth, but I'll bet you $100 that she'll take the load in her womb." With that, she turned on her heel and strode off to the other suite.




Emma Ch. 01



As fogged as I was, I was still concerned. Things were out of control. We'd gone from meeting and befriending a young couple, to nude hot tubbing with them, to me watching my lovely new wife swallowing the other guy's monster cock. Now she was going to let him fuck her without taking sensible precautions against pregnancy. When Amy returned with the lubricant in hand, I again voiced my concern. Amy just laughed.

"You don't seem to get it, do you?" she said, and her eyes went cold and dead. "It's past the stage of 'will she or won't she?' Your hot little bitch of a wife is going to get fucked whether you object or she changes her mind," Amy sneered. "That was always gonna be the outcome as soon as you let us in your nice beach house. Now, let's all be clear that you're just another husband who wants to watch his sweet little princess fuck another guy. It's already obvious she wants to fuck him anyway. You get to ask her if she wants Jake's cum inside her, but I already know she'll take it all in her cunt. They always do." She gave me a hard look and continued. "If you keep pushing it, we can make it be hard and rough and nasty with no 'choice' at all. All I have to do is pick up the phone and in an hour or two we can have a couple of horse-hung Marine buddies here to take care of Emma. You'd be surprised how many husbands get off watching their wives entertain the troops. Either way, you can be certain you will no longer be the only guy Emma's fucked since you married her. And we all know that makes you hard as a steel bar and makes her pussy soaking wet. Now shut the fuck up and watch."

Amy was right, of course. I did want to see her fucking Jake's massive dick, and I knew she wanted it just as much. I could protest, but I wouldn't really mean it. She might register my concerns but she wasn't going to stop. Jake had arranged Emma so that she was on her back at the end of the bed, looking out to the beach and ocean beyond. He had drawn up her heels so they also rested on the edge of the bed, opening her legs and giving him unimpeded access to her pussy. Amy poured a generous amount of lubricant into the palm of her hand and stroked it up and down his engorged cock, lubricating it as she did so. She repeated this twice more, ensuring that he was fully covered. Then she poured some just above Emma's pussy, spreading it out on her bare labia. "That should be enough to start," she said and sat next to me on the floor.

I'd expected a last bit of hesitation from Emma, perhaps a glance at me to make sure I was okay. I was wrong. Jake lined up the head of his cock with her pussy and rubbed it up and down a few times before pushing into her. Though he was careful, Emma opened up and he was able to slide about 6 thick inches into her on his first push before encountering some resistance. He kept his cock there, letting Emma relax around him and then drew it slowly back so only the tip of the head was still inside. Then he pushed forward again. This time, about 8 inches slid in smoothly, eliciting a little gasp of pleasure from my wife. Again he paused for a few moments and slid back out. When he pushed forward this time, he did not go deeper, but instead began a slow but steady in and out. Emma gave soft moans and grunts of pleasure as the pace increased ever so slowly and she put her heels on his lower back. Jake increased the back and forth speed and Emma kept up a near-constant series of groans, moans, gasps and guttural sounds of pleasure as the massive cock opened her up and pumped her. Suddenly Jake pushed forward, burying the entire length into my wife. "Oh, fuck, YES!" she screamed, as she grabbed his ass with both hands and pulled him into her as far as she could get him, grinding her pelvis to his as she climaxed in an orgasm that seemed to go on and on until she fell back to the bed. But Jake had only just begun to fuck her, and he turned her over so she was on her hands and knees in front of him before once again pumping his huge cock in and out of her.

Amy and I got the corner loveseat and moved it over close to the bed so we could observe in comfort. She pulled the towel from my waist as I sat down, letting my rigid erection spring up. She took it in hand and stroked it a bit. "Damn nice cock for a white husband," she said. "Of course it's not even close to what your wife's got in her pussy right now, but you sure don't seem to mind a bit." I didn't, that's for sure.

"Hey, Emma, look over here!" Amy called out, and brandished my swollen cock as she turned her head in our direction. It took a moment for her glazed eyes to focus as Jake pumped in and out of her from behind, but once she saw how hard I was she gave me a dreamy smile. "Looks like your husband loves to watch you fucking Jake's big snake. How do you like doing it in front of him?" 

Emma smiled again, but Jake grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head up, turning her face toward me as he did so. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Answer the question," he instructed. "How do you like taking my big cock right in front of your own husband? Tell him to his face."

"Good, so good," she gasped. "It's so fucking big and it's in so deep. I'm so full of cock."

Jake grinned. "I know you like it. You like it better than your husband's dick?" He kept fucking her as he talked. When she didn't respond he started to slap her ass. "I asked you a question, you fucking slut. Whose dick do you like better? Mine or his?"

Emma groaned and looked right at me with eyes glazed over with lust. "Jake's cock. Oh, yessssss," she hissed. "So much bigger. So much thicker. So much better." Then she gave me a wicked grin. "Fuck me harder. I want you to fuck me like a whore while Ryan watches." 

It did not take long for Emma to climax again while Jake pounded her from behind, her groans and moans filling the air with the sounds of her arousal and peaking orgasm. Jake rolled her once again onto her back and pulled her to the edge of the bed, where he drove into her without restraint. He turned to Amy and gave her a nod, and she walked to the bed, climbed onto it, and settled herself so that she was straddling Emma's head. Then she took one of the pillows, lifting Emma up with one hand while she slipped the pillow underneath. This accomplished, she leaned forward onto her hands and pressed herself down onto Emma's mouth. "Time for some face fucking," she said.

As far as I knew, Emma had never been with a woman, but she gave no resistance as Amy ground her pussy up and down. At first, Emma tried to use her tongue to lick Amy clitoris, but the rhythm made it difficult for her to maintain contact. After a while, she simply kept her mouth open and her tongue extended, letting Amy take control. Amy rode with her eyes closed. Whatever Emma was doing was clearly enjoyable, and Amy started making grunts and other noises of pleasure. She looked over at me. "Your little slut seems to like eating pussy," she opined. 

Jake, Emma and Amy seemed to be very much in sync as they fucked, and it became evident that both of the women were close to climax. Emma reached up and grabbed Amy's ass with both hands and pressed her down. I could hear muffled moans and groans from Emma as Amy fucked her face and Jake increased the pace while he fucked her stretched out pussy. Amy grabbed Emma's head with both hands and pressed her up, fucking her as hard as she could. I could see her ass tensing and she began to shudder. "Fucking little bitch is making me come hard!" she said, while at the same time Emma started to scream in a muffled orgasm as Jake took her over the top again in another orgasm that seemed to last for long minutes.

Sated, at least for the moment, Amy rolled off Emma. I could see Emma's face was slick with Amy's juices, and they embraced in a long and passionate kiss. Then Amy and Jake turned my wife onto her knees once again, and Jake resumed his rhythm, fucking her pussy in long strokes. It wasn't long before Emma's moans resumed. She turned her head toward me and rested it on the mattress as Jake fucked her, her eyes half closed and focused on the sensations of the monster cock that had invaded her. "Gonna need to pop my nuts soon," Jake announced. "Tell your husband where you want it."

Emma looked at me. "Inside me," she said. "I want you to cum in my cunt. Fill me up."

Jake snorted. "I knew you would," he sneered, "but your cuckold husband has to ask me to breed your unprotected womb."

I sat silently for a moment. "Please, baby, I need it," Emma moaned. "Ask him to cum in my pussy."

I was in turmoil, more aroused by the sight of Emma fucking Jake's huge cock than I had ever been in the entire time we had been together. I knew the potential consequences for us if he finished in her, but I also knew that there was no turning back. "Go ahead," I finally said. "Fill her cunt with your cum. Breed her. She wants it. I want it. Fuck a baby into her womb if you can."

Jake smirked at me and then grabbed Emma at her hips, fucking her as deeply as he could. Emma's cries of pleasure grew louder and louder until she was nearly screaming. Jake was merciless, but it only made her climax harder and longer. Finally, with a roar, he slammed himself into her and held her to him tightly, while his ass contracted over and over as his cock pulsed and he shot jet after jet of cum into my the depths of my wife's pussy. I have no idea how many times he squirted his load, but it was more than I managed on my best day. Emma was making incoherent noises and finally collapsed forward in exhaustion, barely able to keep her ass in the air. Connected together, the two of them were motionless for what seemed like eternity, but Jake finally withdrew and rolled Emma onto her back with her heels up.

"Go and see what your little wifey's cunt looks like after she's been fucked by that monster," Amy said, and I knelt at the end of the bed to take a look. Emma's labia and clitoris were swollen and red from the fucking she'd so willingly received. She gaped open widely, and I could easily see deep inside her. She was completely full of Jake's pearly white semen, and it seemed like a small lake of it was puddled up to her womb. The opening to her cervix appeared very slightly open, and the cervix itself was puffy and coated with cum. As I watched, it looked almost as though I could see semen leaking out. I looked at Emma's face, dazed and sated. She smiled softly and slipped a fingertip into her gaping pussy and stirred it around until a thick gob of Jake's sperm ran slowly out and down her thigh. She held out her arms to embrace me, but when I leaned forward to kiss her she shook her head and gently pushed my head down to her pussy. "I love you, baby," she said. "I want your mouth on my cunt and your tongue inside me." And she slowly pulled me forward as I did what she asked, surrendering to the moment as she had surrendered herself so completely to Jake. It was so very nasty. And it was good, so very good.



Emma Ch. 02



I awoke by the sweet and velvety smell of baking. It was Christmas Eve and my mum was getting ready for the party that she and my dad were attending later in the evening. I tried to go back to sleep, but the clacking of pots and pans as well as my mother's voice, obviously chattering in my dad's ear while he ignored her by reading the daily newspaper was too much to disregard.

I stirred and noticed that the discomfort of a hard on was still present. Reaching over to the nightstand, I pushed the Play button on my stereo and a gentle whine of Mark Knopfler's guitar filled the room. As if on cue, I heard heavy footsteps rushing up the stairs, and I hoped it was my mum coming to call me down for breakfast. Just as the sound of rushing feet reached my door, I heard her high-pitched yell coming from the kitchen. "Milo?" she yelled. "Come down, love and have some breakfast!" At the same time the doorknob turned and without knocking my father burst into my bedroom. I wasn't worried, of course, but I have to admit, I felt very uncomfortable. 

"Where have you been last night?" he asked without any introductory politeness of bidding me good morning. He stood in the door, meaty fingers of one hand holding onto the doorknob so tight they turned white, clearly exposing his anguish and probably anger. 

"I went to a party." I said nonchalantly, giving him the most innocent of smiles. "Why? Is something wrong?" I managed to slip a bit of concern into my voice. His love of stringent house rules prevented me from openly mocking him, as I didn't want to alarm my mum by getting into a heavy argument.

Ignoring my question, he narrowed his eyes as if measuring my truthfulness. "When did you come back?" he asked. 

I rolled my eyes as if thinking hard and retracing my steps. If I said I came home while he was still in the house, he would have known I lied and the jig would be up. It's not like I was afraid, he couldn't do anything to me for finding out his little secret, but I didn't want to challenge his notoriously bad temper. "Probably after midnight, I'm not sure. Why, dad?" I asked again, my face a mask of undivided attention. 

"There's been a break in last night." He lied smoothly, his eyes unwaveringly on me. "The student house." He said, referring to the house across the street. "I was there checking up on the furnace, so I think I must have scared him off, but I thought you might have seen something." 

"Him?" I asked incredulously. "You saw who it was?"

"Well, no..." I caught him off guard. "I just presumed it was a man, or maybe more than one. I shouldn't think girls would be breaking into houses in the middle of the night." His face seemed to relax a little. "So, you haven't seen anything, you think?"

"Well..." I dragged out the word, and with a yawn averted my eyes from the face that made me feel sick. "I don't remember seeing anything. I wasn't really looking, you know. I don't even know if Emma was still up when I came home."

At the mention of Emma's name my dad's eyes narrowed again and it had taken a lot of strength for me not to crack a smile. 

"But all is well now, right?" I asked and plopped back down onto my pillow. As if in deep thought, my dad chewed on his lower lip, his forehead clearing after a moment. 

"I suppose so. Nothing seems to have been stolen. No damage done." He nodded and looked around the room as if searching for anything incriminating. "I'll have to tell her to be more careful and lock the door when she's all by herself."

I nodded and with that my dad stepped out, closing the door behind him. I reached under the cover and squeezed my cock through my underwear, determined to do something about this spot of bother between my legs, which has deprived me of restful sleep the night before. 

The door opened again and dad's face, still plastered with suspicion poked inside the room. "Your mother is calling you to breakfast, Milosh." 

There! Milosh. He obviously didn't believe my little story. I couldn't care less. He was the one in trouble, not me and I decided not to feel or show any distress. 

"I'll just take a quick shower, dad. I'll be down in a minute." I said and he nodded again, this time leaving the room altogether. I waited for his heavy steps to thump down the stairs and remained in bed until I was certain he wouldn't return.

A sunray poked through the shutters, tickling my eyes and I was grateful for this promise of a nice day, even though it would probably be a cold one. There were chores to be done and a party to get ready for. After all, it was almost Christmas and the best and most of the uninhibited of parties was about to happen. A Christmas bash at Brian's was bound to be a success. Beer and whiskey were to be in abundance, so should be the array of girls. I have been torn between making a move on Linda, the geeky but very sexy girl from my art class and Penny, the new girl at college, who had been everybody's pick this winter. I bet a lot of blokes from my college were thinking of her when wanking off, she looked that good. She was pretty and athletic, always laughing, sometimes to the point one would think her daft, but I seriously doubted that was the case. Only one way to find out, I supposed. 

I jumped out of my bed and realized that the hard on had become more than a mere discomfort by now. It wasn't quite painful, but I knew I had to do something to relieve the tension or I'd be pissy all day. I walked into the small bathroom adjacent to my bedroom and turned on the water. Stripping off the underwear and a t-shirt, I stepped inside the shower, closed the curtain and reached for the baby oil, which I kept for the particular occasions of self-pleasuring. In fact, my mum had persuaded me to use it, but of course, she suggested it to be used as a way to keep my skin soft. Like I cared at that time if my skin was baby soft or not. 

I squirted a generous amount of the slick liquid onto my palm and my, by now rock hard cock, closed my eyes, and supporting myself against the shower wall with the clean hand, I began wanking off with Emma in mind. I saw her firm and perky breasts, softly bobbing like leaves in a gentle breeze. I pictured her long, thin legs and arms wrapping themselves around my body while she laid beneath me, her dark eyes half closed in ecstasy that I was certain I could bring her to had she given me half a chance. I saw her long, blond hair brushing against my skin, her lips sucking on my nipples and belly and balls, her delicate tongue licking against my belly button. I saw her riding me wildly, her mouth half open, her delicate fingers digging into my chest, her entire body shivering with an oncoming orgasm, my big hands holding onto her hips and pulling her down on me, slamming her against my cock, making her gasp just like I heard her gasping the previous night. 

At the thought of Emma and my dad and their gasping, my cock began going limp almost instantly. The beautiful illusion had turned into a nightmare, it seemed. I shook my head as if trying to push the picture of the two them out.

I never let go of my cock, rubbing it softly, trying to think of something else than the events of the previous night. I tried to picture the evening ahead. Penny with her silly giggle and Linda, completely unaware of how sexy her glasses made her look; the librarian type with a hidden wild side. It worked. My cock hardened again and I wanked off as if my life depended on it. I imagined myself with Linda and then I swapped her for Penny. Fuck, why not go for the obvious and have them both at the same time? Both of them falling all over each other trying to pleasure me, while according to my instructions, messing with each other, too. 

I began imagining shagging them both. Dipping my cock into one pussy and then the other. The girls begging me for more, each softly purring when I shagged them hard, the other one massaging the tits of the one shagged, or squeezing my balls, or rubbing my crack. 

I blinked in frustration. Yet again I managed to make my cock go limp on me. Why on earth was I thinking of anybody rubbing my crack? I've never had that done to me, never desired it so. It must have been the remnants of seeing my dad enjoy a finger up his arse, and frankly I didn't want that. Didn't want to see that again, or experience it for myself. 

Frustrated now, as I had never had a problem to simply wank in a short period of time, I reached for some more baby oil and squirted it on my cock. "Come on, mate," I whispered. This time, when I closed my eyes, a scene that had played in front of me the night before popped into my head. Emma on her knees, my dad grabbing onto her ponytails and pulling her mouth onto his cock roughly, making her gag and her eyes water. I remembered the sounds of her trying to breathe, even her retching seemed very erotic to me at that moment. 

I stroked my cock hard and fast, just like I had seen Emma's mouth stroking my dad's cock. I stroked in the rhythm that I saw Emma move. I felt it was wrong to wank off on the memory of the two of them together, but I couldn't help myself. I kept jerking my cock and in my head, Emma kept sucking off my dad. The more I pictured her laboring over the task, the closer I got to cumming. The water that fell on my back from the shower felt like gentle fingers caressing my skin, adding to the pleasure. 

I felt my body stiffening; I sped up the stroking, in my mind Emma was close to unconsciousness being suffocated by a cock. This time, however, I pictured my own cock inside her mouth. The picture shifted and I saw her from above, my hands were holding onto her hair, it were my butt cheeks that she was squeezing. I leaned forward (still in my mind) and to my great delight saw a small hold of a butt plug sticking out of her arse. Obviously, the array of sex toys scattered about the room had made a great impression on me.

I imagined the discomfort that she would have felt from my cock deep inside her mouth, almost in her throat; the discomfort of the big butt plug inside her arse. I wished so much that she was in front of me right now. I would have reached over and pulled on the plug a little, just enough to make her squirm and yelp, perhaps. Not much yelping could be done, though. Not with my cock in her sweet, fat-lipped mouth and then I would tell her I was cumming and make her open her eyes and look at me while I was spraying inside her, not allowing her to move away. I would make her take every single drop I had for her. She would swallow it all and I would keep my cock in her until it went limp. 

I was stroking myself very hard and fast now. Despite the warmth of the water on my back I could feel the coldness of the sweat beads on my chest and forehead. I stroked and stroked, seeing Emma's beautiful eyes stare at me, her face a mixture of alarm as she couldn't breathe and pleasure, knowing that she was giving me the ultimate ecstasy. 

"Milo?" I heard my mother's voice, to my horror it wasn't in the bedroom, it was closer, she must have been standing a foot or two away, on the other side of the shower curtain. Yet, I couldn't stop. I simply couldn't. I had to finish what I had started, already having been interrupted twice by my own thoughts that were not pleasing to my mind. 

Emma's face, the memory of her voice, my father's grunts and my mother's all too real voice within a reach of the shower curtain finally pushed me over the brink and for a moment the world swayed in front of me, then went blank and I felt my cock throbbing in my hand, chunks of cum spewing onto the shower wall. 

I stilled myself then, breathing hard and turned my head towards the shower curtain. I couldn't see anybody's silhouette standing on the other side as I knew I would have had my mother been there. If I knew I could see her and she really did enter the bathroom a few moments before, then she certainly saw me wanking off in the shower. 

I felt ashamed and utterly annoyed. "Fuck!" I yelled. I really wanted to just bust out of the bathroom and then my bedroom, stand on the landing and yell off the top of my lungs: 'Can't a person even peacefully wank off in this house?' 

Of course I did none of that. It was one of those crazy moments when a person thinks they are just about to stand up in a class enveloped in silence and scream in frustration. The pressure that was building up in me since last night finally released, I felt calmer although not as of yet completely satisfied. I poked my head around the curtain and looked around. My mum was nowhere to be seen. 

"Mum?" I asked quietly, but there was no response. I hoped to god that it had all been just my imagination and she didn't catch me in an uncompromising act. I cleaned the spunk off the wall and took a quick shower, almost running down the stairs, fresh clothes thrown haphazardly on my still wet body. 

"Mum?" I said when I finally entered the kitchen. She was standing in the corner pouring a cup of coffee, with my dad sitting at the breakfast table, very predictably reading his newspaper. "Mum?" I asked again and she turned around. I could see distress in her eyes. She had been in my bathroom only minutes before! Deep shame flushed through my entire body and I knew my face must have flushed beetroot red. 

"Come, Milo," she smiled gently. "Let's have breakfast."

With a heavy heart I sat down and accepted the plate full of toast that she had offered. I didn't dare look into her eyes again; I was too embarrassed. 

I felt a rising anger towards dad, who in some crazy sort of way was responsible for me masturbating in the shower that morning and mum walking in on me. Of course I knew she would never mention it, but then, she needn't to. I saw her face when I first walked into the kitchen. It wasn't disappointment, not exactly that. She was merely mortified over barging in on me and putting her own mind into a whirlpool of cacophonic thoughts. 

I looked at dad and satisfyingly noted that he had been oblivious to our little exchanges of shame and discomfort. 

"So, dad..." I couldn't help myself. Why would mum and I be the only ones in distress? "What are you going to do then?" I asked, deliberately ignoring the warning stare he had given me. "Will you call the police?" He would have choked me with his bare hands if he had a chance; I could see that.

"Why on earth would you be calling the police, Peter?" asked mum as she joined us at the table. 

"Oh," I said, making myself sound surprised. The bastard just came up with the break in thing to confront me with a more appropriate question that he didn't dare voice out loud. "Didn't dad tell you? There's been a break in last night."

My mother flushed with momentary panic. "A break in? Where?"

"The student house." I said, noting that my father had not said a word since I walked into the kitchen, appearing as if his head was just about to explode with anger. 

"Good god!" my mother was genuinely alarmed by now. "Peter!"

"It's nothing Muriel. Nothing happened, really. I was over there checking on a furnace and..." 

I gave him a look of utter contempt. 'Furnace, yes. But, you fail to elaborate which one, you bastard!' went through my mind. 

"When was that?" asked my mum and I felt sorry for her. Here she was, full of concern and anguish, while my dad tried to lie his way out of trouble, obviously unashamedly determined to pull me into it, as well. 

"I couldn't sleep last night." He said calmly, watching me like a hawk. "So, I went over there to check on the furnace that Milo had fixed earlier. While I was there, the front door slammed, that was all. It might have just been the wind."

Uncertain about the situation, my mum was eager to continue the conversation and reach some sort of conclusion. "But, Peter..." she began.

"It was nothing, Muriel, for god's sake!" he bellowed out, making mum and I both jump in our seats. "Why do you always have to make such a fuss about everything? That's why..." he nearly choked trying to think fast over how to get himself out of the predicament. "That's why," he repeated calmly, "I don't tell you about little things like that, love." He smiled at mum and although still uncertain, she seemed to accept his explanation. "No need to worry yourself over nothing, is there?"

I had been defeated. 

"Besides, I had to go and see that Milosh here did a good job, didn't I? You know how careless he can be sometimes. I just wanted to make sure the girl had heat for the night."

I dropped my half eaten toast onto the plate. By now, I had completely lost my appetite. He didn't just defeat me; he also kicked me in the stomach while I lay in the dust. Bastard!

"It's all in running order now, nothing's happened, and let's just have breakfast in peace and quiet." he commanded and as far as mum was concerned, that was that. He asked no more questions and I didn't prod him anymore, either. 

I forced myself to finish the breakfast, with my mother cheerfully discussing her plans for the evening and my father returning his full attention to the newspaper.

As I was leaving to go to Brian's, dad caught up with me outside in the driveway. He grabbed my forearm and squeezed it to the point of pain. 

"You do that again, you little bastard and I'll... I'll..."

I shook him off, got in the car and drove away. If I said another word, I knew the inevitable consequence would be for mum to find out what had been really going on in the 'student house' the night before. My dad and I would have gotten into a huge argument and I would have spilled the beans. I didn't want to hurt her like that, or at least that's what I had been telling myself ever since. 

My determination to take revenge upon Emma and dad, however, only became firmer. They would both regret their actions; I was going to make sure of that.



Emma Ch. 02



Thanks to all of you who contacted me and insisted that I finish the story of Emma. This plot has been crawling around in my head for six months. It is a scenario that I would dearly love to be a part of but alas, it is all just fiction.




After dropping off Emma at her home, Bill tried to recall every moment of his "date" with an 18 year old nymphet. It was no longer a student-teacher relationship that caused him to suggest she help him chaperone the high school prom but more like a favor to her because she had no date; and more to the point, the fantastic blow job she gave him in an empty classroom only whetted his appetite for more. The frantic ass fuck and blow job in the darkened cafeteria kitchen was followed by another noisy suck job in a darkened parking lot.

His wilted cock did not stir as he drove home, thinking about Emma's mother, her enormous tits and tight jeans over a perfect bubble butt. Once in bed at home, he fell asleep thinking about the two women who had suddenly become the object of every salacious thought in his head. He dreamt fitfully and woke up several times with an erection. 

Sunday morning, about 10:00 am his phone rang. It was Emma's mother, Gloria.

"Bill, you drove off before I could thank you for taking Emma to the prom. She did not stop talking about you and the fun she had. I haven't seen her glow like this for ages.

I really want to repay you for your kindness."

"No, Gloria, that's not necessary. I had a good time as well; it reminded me of my high school days."

"Well, Emma and I would like to invite you over for dinner today. If you're not busy, why don't you come over about noon? I'm told my fried chicken is second to none."

Bill thought for about two seconds and accepted the invitation.

He arrived on time with a bottle of wine for himself and Gloria and a bouquet of flowers for the table. The dinner was terrific and he said so several times. All the while, Emma kept making cow eyes at him when she thought her mother wasn't looking. As they sat at the table, she lifted her toe to Bill's crotch, causing him a good deal of discomfort.

As they finished, Emma dashed off to answer the phone. She came back to the dining room and said her friends were going to the lake and could she go. Her mother asked a few questions about who was going, who was driving, etc. and finally agreed.

As she left, Bill helped bring the dishes to the kitchen. Once again, Gloria began to tell Bill about Emma's night at the prom.

"I can't remember when she was so excited about a dance. What did you two do that caused her to get to wound up?"

"Well, I guess she enjoyed dancing with some of the boys who were too stupid not to ask her themselves. She looked fantastic."

"That's true. She has blossomed out to be quite a young lady. I am very proud of her grades. She said she was the brightest student in your class and that you paid special attention to her."

Bill began to sweat a bit because the questions were getting a little too close to the real reason Emma was glowing. Gloria suggested they retire to the family room where there was a wide screen TV. The room had a large leather couch and a few easy chairs as well.

Bill picked out a chair, Gloria sat on the couch. 

"You can see the screen better from over here," she said. 

She patted the cushion next to her. Bill considered for a second. Emma was gone and he sensed an invitation to get closer to Gloria. He moved over and sat next to her. He watched the TV for a short time and then realized that Gloria was looking more at him.

"You know, Bill, I think there is more to know about Emma's prom night than she is telling me. I know she is on the verge of being sexually active. Do you suppose she sneaked off with one of the boys during the dance?"

Bill was really nervous now. He thought to himself, "How much does she really know?"

He coughed and was momentarily at a loss for words. 

" Well, of course I was not with her every minute but I cannot imagine that she would have done something wrong while we were there."

"I didn't say that what she might have done was wrong but I know my daughter.

On Friday, after her last class with you, she came home with the same excitement in her eyes. C'mon Bill, tell me what is really going on between you two. I assure you I can handle the truth."

Bill felt he was trapped. 

"Well, I realized early on that Emma had more than just student-teacher feelings about me. I tried not to encourage her but as you know, she has a way of getting what she wants." He paused for a moment, wondering how far he should go.

Gloria shocked him to the core when she said,

"You know, when I kissed her good night on Friday, I smelled something strange in her breath. I smelled it again Saturday night as well. For a while I didn't know what it was and then it hit me. I'll bet my bra that you two sucked each other off in the classroom after the class left and again on Saturday night. Emma has been swallowing cum!"

Bill decided to give up pretending. This woman was just as good as her daughter in getting what she wanted.

"I'm sorry, I should never have let her get to me the way she did. She knew I was often staring at her breasts and then she just came up to me and opened her blouse and bra.

I couldn't help myself and she kept going further and further and before I knew it, she was going down on me. I know I should have stopped her but it's been over a year since I had any kind of sexual contact with a woman and I lost control. I am really sorry, Gloria. I assure you it won't happen again."

He rose to leave but Gloria grabbed his arm.

"Don't be sorry. I knew she was going to be sexually active and I am glad she did it with you instead of those slimy boys in the school. Was that all that happened? Don't hold out on me."

Throwing caution to the wind, Bill said,

"We had another session in the cafeteria kitchen and again on the way home. I don't know what else to tell you," he said looking down at the floor.

"Well, mister, I know her tits would attract any red-blooded American boy. But, now you can tell me what you think of these? "

Bill turned to Gloria and saw that she had flipped her sweater over her head, exposing the biggest bra full of tit he had ever seen. He thought that this bra must have been designed by a structural engineer, one who had experience with the weight and stress factors for suspension bridges. The tits were the size of two regulation NFL footballs. Gloria reached behind her back and unhooked the bra. Two monster tits fell down to her abdomen. She lifted them up and leaned into Bill's face.

"Now you know where Emma's big tits come from. Would you like a taste?"

By now Bill was completely in her power. 

"Welcome to my parlor," said the spider to the fly.

He leaned forward and sucked one nipple and then the other. He tried to push them together so as to suck them both at the same time. Not so. Too much flesh. Gloria was loving it. She threw her head back and moaned. After a few minutes she slid off the couch to the floor. In seconds she had snatched off her jeans and thong. Bill was frantically tearing off his shirt and pants. He joined Gloria on the floor and lay on top of her. Their lips were mashed together; their breathing was fast and noisy. 

"Do it, Bill, do it!" she cried. 

Bill shifted his weight and brought his stiffened cock to her pussy. He pounded Gloria relentlessly, twisting his body back and forth. Gloria lifted her legs, tilting her torso giving Bill maximum exposure to her groin. He stopped for a moment. She said, 

"Do me from behind. You get in deeper that way."

She rolled over onto her hands and knees. Bill knelt behind her and once more shoved into her. He grabbed her hips and banged away. As they continued, they did not notice that Emma had come home and was standing in the doorway, watching the fornicators on the floor. The guy that was supposed to take everyone to the lake had car trouble and the trip was cancelled. 

She remembered the night her mother came home drunk, swearing and stumbling through the house. She watched Gloria climb the stairs to her bedroom and shortly she heard the buzz of a vibrator.

"Son of a bitch wouldn't even give me a decent fuck. I gotta get off. Gotta get off." 

Emma looked into her mother's bedroom. Gloria had removed her slacks and panties and was vigorously working the vibrator on her cunt. The overhead light illuminated the 40 year old woman's pussy which was wet and slimy. Emma walked up to the bed and reached over and lightly touched her mother's clit. The delirious woman groaned and humped her pelvis upward. Emma leaned closely and, as the vibrator buzzed in the sloppy cunt, she stuck out her tongue and licked her mother's clit. She continued to lap away until finally her mother's body stiffened and she cried out in orgasm. The vibrator was squeezed out onto the bed. Emma stood up and walked over to the head of the bed.

She leaned over and kissed her mother on the mouth. Gloria had passed out. 

This event ran through Emma's mind and she watched Bill ram his cock into her mother.

She was strangely not jealous but drawn to the fucking couple. She removed her clothes and slowly walked into the room. Neither Bill nor Gloria noticed right away. But then Gloria opened her eyes just in time to see her daughter slowly rubbing her own pussy, right next to her. Bill stopped for just a moment and stared at the two women. Gloria motioned for Emma to sit on the couch with her legs draped on each side of her head.

She pulled her daughter closer until the young cunt was right under her chin. She shoved her face into Emma's pubis and worked her tongue inside. Bill continued shoving his cock into the now sloppy cunt but lessened the force of his thrust.

Now both women were moaning. Bill looked at Emma and they smiled. Bill was now beyond being surprised and anything these two did was fine with him. Still, he wanted to be the first to fuck Emma so he pulled out of her mother.

"I want to be the first to fuck Emma," he quietly said. 

Gloria said,

"Fine but don't cum inside her. I don't need a pregnant girl on my hands. "

Gloria layed out on the soft carpeted floor of the room and Emma crawled on top of her in the traditional 69. Bill positioned himself behind Emma and brought his dripping cock to her virgin portal. He shoved in and Emma squealed as she drove her tongue into her mother's snatch. Gloria leaned back for a moment as Bill drove his cock in. Then as he backed off for a second, Gloria grabbed her daughter's hips, lifted her head and began to work her tongue into Emma's cunt. Bill resumed his thrust and was now as deep into Emma as his cock allowed. Gloria would lick his balls as they slid back and forth over her face. The three of them now were a tangle of groaning, huffing, slippery, mindless sex. Bill felt the rising of his orgasm. He pulled out of Emma's cunt and moved to penetrate her ass hole. His cock, covered with the juice of Emma's cunt, now slid into her ass. He pumped slowly back and forth in the teenager's rectum. The moaning of the women was increasing. The walls of the room echoed with the sounds of their sucking and slobbering.

Bill knew it was his time, and he pulled out of the young girl's ass, slipped into her cunt for a few thrusts and then pulled out. He grasped his cock and pointed it at Gloria's face. She immediately knew what was about to happen and opened her mouth wide. Bill lowered his cock into her mouth and let fly more cum than he could ever remember. Again and again his cock lurched with another shot of cum into the mouth of this wanton slut. It was too much for her to swallow all at once and some of it dripped over the sides of her mouth. Now empty, Bill pulled out and fell onto the floor on his back, puffing and wheezing from his efforts. The two women resumed their frantic tongue work on each other's pussy until they too, cried out in orgasm. All three lay on the floor next to Bill. For a moment they looked at each other and then all three broke into gales of laughter. They rolled into a threesome clutch and kissed each other over and over. At that moment, the TV erupted with The Star Spangled Banner as the two baseball teams stood at attention, their hats over their chests.

Gloria summed it up rather well when she said,

"I am too damned weak to stand up!"



Emma Ch. 02



AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Just want to say a quick thank you to all those who commented and emailed positive responses to my first story featuring Emma Watson. That was originally meant to be a standalone story and was therefore written in a way that made a sequel unlikely (notwithstanding the epilogue). But I fell in love with the characters and apparently so did many others, and so here we are. While I could have gone back and rewrote the ending to make things easier for myself, I felt that was a cheat and decided to make the best out of what I had. As a result, I'm not entirely sure the story that follows completely works on a narrative level (too bloated and verbose), but then I guess narrative isn't exactly a priority in erotica. However, I can promise that if there's any interest, future instalments will be less longwinded and more fun. 

Anyway, hope you enjoy the story. Comments and votes are appreciated.

***

Emma Watson...

It was the best day and a half of my life; and I can't tell anyone about it. Not that they'd believe me. Hell, sometimes I don't believe it. It sounds like some kind of sleazy fantasy I had dreamed up on a lonely night. And yet, I have her panties hidden in my wardrobe at home like some sort of trophy. Beneath it sits my copy of 'Harry Potter & the Prisoner of Azkaban', with a handwritten message from her on the inside of front cover thanking me for a lovely time and telling me she might call one day. 

Of course, when paparazzi shots showed up online of her and I sitting at a hotel bar having a few beers, my friends and family started talking. I showed them the signed copy of the other Harry Potter book I had her autograph which contained a much more innocent message. My friends asked me if I "put the moves on her". I simply replied, "she's Emma Watson". Those words translated to "I struck out" to most people; and I'm more than happy for them to believe that. Just the memories of what we got up to in that hotel room are enough.

She said she might call me one day if she got the chance to come back to Australia. I admit that for awhile I kept a close eye on her Twitter feed and fansites for any news, but there was no hint that she would be coming back anytime soon. It was now seven months later and whatever miniscule hope I ever held that she would call was gone. But as it turns out, life is strange. 

One day while I sat in my office at work, I received a phone call. The caller ID was blocked and I just assumed it was one of my clients.

"HMH Lawyers, Nate speaking."

"Ooh, very professional," said a girl with an English accent.

"Hi, can I help you?" I asked while absentmindedly thinking about what I wanted to eat for lunch.

"Nate, it's Emma."

"Emma...?" I asked without much enthusiasm.

I heard a soft chuckle on the other end before she said; "Do you really not recognise my voice?"

I started paying attention and suddenly it dawned on me who was on the other end. I sat up straight and peeked out of the door of my office to make sure no one else was listening.

"Emma... Hi," I said, my mouth suddenly dry. 

"Hi. How've you been?"

"Great. You?" 

"Great."

There was silence on both ends. Neither of us spoke for a few seconds. I couldn't even hear her breathing on the other end, although I did hear the very faint sound of traffic, which led me to ask,

"Where are you?" 

"London," she said, before adding, "I uh, I'm heading to Australia soon."

"Really?" I said, struggling to curb my enthusiasm.

"Yeah. I'll be in Sydney for the Australian Premiere for my new movie."

"Oh yeah, I saw some early reviews for that the other day."

"And?"

"Well, Variety hates it."

"Of course they did," Emma sighed. "Any positives?"

"Well, everyone seems to love Russell Crowe."

The sound of Emma laughing came through the phone. It was music to my ears. Just hearing her voice again brought back memories of our time together. I was beginning to wonder if history would repeat itself. But I wasn't about to lead off with that. Instead, I said,

"Will he be at the premiere?"

"Who? Russell? I imagine so. He's one of your lot after all."

"My lot?" I asked.

"Australian," she explained.

"Oh of course," I chuckled nervously. "Can I meet him? He's one of my favourite actors."

"Get to Sydney on the 24th and I'll make sure the two of you end up having a beer together."

"Thanks Emma."

Again, we lapsed into silence. I strained to hear her on the other end. Nothing. There was nothing said for at least 5 seconds; and when you're on the phone with Emma Watson, 5 seconds feels like an eternity. Suddenly, I thought back to what she had just said and ask, 

"Hold on. You said the 24th?"

"Uh-huh."

"This month or next?"

"This month."

"Emma, that's this Monday," I said whilst double checking on my computer.

"Yeah."

"That's only four days away."

"Yeah. Can you come?" she replied quietly.

"I'd have to take a day off work."

"Take the week off. I'll fly you out."

"Notwithstanding how emasculating it is to have a girl by your airplane tickets for you; what do you have in mind?"

"I need company. And we had fun last time I was in Australia."

I took a moment before answering. Not because I didn't know how to reply, but because I was genuinely baffled why she was calling me. We did have fun during her last visit to Australia. But I'd be lying if I said it was anything more than casual sex. She said she might give me a call next time she was in Australia, but I never expected she would. Hollywood actresses don't seek out the company of junior lawyers in Australia who they've only knew for an accumulated total of only 40 hours. But when Emma Watson asks you to come to Sydney to meet her, you don't say no.

"Done," I replied.

***

It felt strange to sit the lobby of the Park Hyatt Hotel in Sydney Harbour at Emma Watson's invitation and knowing we were likely going to continue where we left off was a strange situation to be in. This was beginning to feel like the most elaborate and expensive booty call in history. And why I was the lucky recipient, I'll never know. In any event, it was significantly preferable to being at work. 

I had been waiting for about 15 minutes when I saw her. And as if this situation wasn't strange and dreamlike enough, the sun shone through the doorway as she walked in, giving her an almost ethereal quality. She waltzed in surrounded by her entourage and pursued by the paparazzi. Hotel security ushered Emma inside and barred any of the paparazzi from coming in. Things had suddenly become very hectic. And here I was hoping for a quiet and intimate reunion. Once inside, Emma greeted the concierge and hotel staff. She looked as if she had done it a thousand times (and probably had). Inside the (relative) privacy of the hotel lobby, I managed to get a better look at Emma. Just like the last time I saw her, she wore a pair of large sunglasses which she had only just taken off. Her clothes appeared modest; leggings and a long green shirt. 

I wasn't sure what I should do. I couldn't just walk up to her and say hello. I sensed she wanted my visit to be incognito. So I decided to place myself between her and the elevator and hope she would notice me on her way past. This was something I hadn't resorted to doing since high school when I had a crush on the girl in my history class. And wouldn't you know it, just like in high school, it worked.

She was preoccupied with her phone as she walked towards the elevator and only glanced up momentarily to wave at some fans. As she did so, our eyes met. Her eyes lit up as a wide smile spread across her face. She was clearly debating whether or not to stop and talk to me but was also noticeably concerned at the lack of privacy. Her eyes darted back and forth from me, to her entourage to everyone else who was watching her every move. She was about to walk past me when at the last second, she stopped dead in her tracks and turned to me.

"Nate! How are you?" she said happily in that posh English accent of hers. 

"I'm great," I replied; both surprised and at the same time smug to be the source her attention.

She walked up to me and hugged me like an old friend. This too took me by surprised. That same perfume I remembered from all those months back filled the air again as her hair brushed against my face and her arms wrapped around me in a warm embrace. As she was about to let go, she whispered in my ear,

"Just play along."

Before I could reply, she indicated to a middle-aged woman in her entourage and said,

"Nate, I'd like you to meet my publicist, Wendy."

Wendy and I shook hands as I suddenly remembered her from Emma's last visit to Australia. She had interrupted us in the middle of our amorous activities and ushered an abrupt end to our dalliance. If Wendy remembered me, she gave no indication. Emma continued,

"This is Nate, he's the budding journalist I was telling you about earlier. I offered to give him an exclusive. Could you pencil him in for an hour or so sometime soon."

I literally could not stop smiling to whole time she was speaking. Just being in her presence again and having her talk to me brought me more joy than I thought possible.

Wendy looked at me for a moment and she said, "I thought I had arranged for all press interviews to be conducted at the junket tomorrow. Who are you with Nate?"

I had no idea what she meant and looked to Emma for help. Emma had apparently already planned for these questions and answered for me.

"Nate's still an intern at one of the city papers. He's actually a friend of a friend so he's not on any of your official lists. I'm just doing him a favour-"

"And I'm very grateful Emma," I added quickly, desperate to not be silent for this whole conversation.

Emma smiled and said, "Just pencil him in for a couple of hours. 

Wendy scrolled through her calendar on her iPad as Emma and I looked at each other with goofy looking grins on our faces. We both struggled to curb our excitement in front of everyone in the hotel lobby, which at this moment seemed like the entire population of Sydney. Eventually Wendy said,

"Well, you're almost completely booked up today. Tomorrow is jam-packed, what with junket lasting from morning to arfternoon and the premiere in the evening, so I can't fit him in then. But you're free anytime after 1 o'clock on Wednesday. How long do you suppose you'll need for your questions?"

Emma and I both frowned when we heard that. Neither of us wanted to wait two days. But Emma, ever the consummate professional simply replied,

"We just need a couple of hours," Emma answered.

Wendy raised an eyebrow and asked me, "For an interview? How many questions do you have?"

"We also want to catch up afterwards. We're old friends," Emma quickly said before I could get a word in. 

"I thought he was a friend of a friend," asked Wendy, clearly becoming suspicious.

"Wendy, can you please just find us a couple of hours to catch up? When I added the extra days to this trip, it wasn't so you could fill them up with interviews and photoshoots," Emma replied with a hint of frustration. 

This came as news to me. When she said she'd be in Sydney most of the week, I assumed it was just for work. It never occurred to me she wanted to put aside a couple of days for us to spend together. Wendy, sensing Emma's mild annoyance, looked over her iPad again and said,

"Well, you have leave for your photoshoot with Vogue in about an hour, and I wanted to go over your itinerary first, but I suppose that can wait."

Emma mouthed the words "thank you" to Wendy before grabbing my arm and leading me towards the elevator. We didn't say a word until we stepped inside and the doors closed. All the prying eyes disappeared until there was just me and her in a small confined space. Alone at last. Emma, being shorter than I was, stood on her toes and kissed me on the cheek before saying,

"Sorry about all that. I can't seem to get anytime to myself these days."

The kiss took me by surprise and had me reeling as she continued to talk.

"I'm glad you came," she said.

"I'm glad you called. To be honest, I never expected you would," I replied.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you're Emma Watson."

"And?"

I let out a nervous chuckle before replying; "And, big actresses like yourself don't go seeking the company of guys like me when you could literally choose from any other guy in the world."

"I probably could," she said with more of a tone of resignation than pride. 

"So why me?"

"You made me smile. And you looked at me as someone other than Hermione Granger."

"I'm not sure how true that is but I can't be the only one."

"No, I guess not. I do bump into nice guys like every so often on these promotional tours. But I never did with them what I did with you."

"Lucky me," I said in a much sleazier voiced than I had intended. "How was your flight?"

"Long. London to Sydney always is."

The elevator doors opened into a hallway that led to a single door. It didn't occur to me until now but Emma was going to be staying in hotel penthouse. Emma waltzed in like she owned the place. The glitz and glamour didn't faze her at all, although she did seem rather taken aback by the gorgeous view of Sydney Harbour. She stood by the large windows that ran from floor to ceiling and wall to wall which provided a near 180 degree look at the city. Meanwhile I just had to stand there in the middle of the room and gawk at the penthouse. It was basically a large apartment furnished with expensive furniture and packed with luxury hotel amenities from gift baskets to a fully stocked bar.

"How long until you have to leave for that photoshoot," I asked as I walked around the place and peeked into every nook and cranny; soaking up the life of luxury. 

"Not long. An hour at most."

I took a peek into the bedroom and to see a large king sized bed. Something told me we would be spending a lot of time there. Emma quietly walked up behind me and peaked into the bedroom.

"Give you any ideas?" she said.

"A few."

Emma smiled and walked back to the windows. I was so unused to such extravagance that I was barely paid any attention to Emma and continued to gawk at the penthouse. Eventually, Emma said,

"I hate to be crass Nate, but do you mind?"

"What?" I asked as I turned around to face her.

Emma was still standing by the window. But sometime in the past 30 seconds, she had removed her shirt and was currently reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. My jaw hit the floor.

"It was a really long flight. I badly need to relax," she said seductively with that accent of hers. 

"Just one elaborate and expensive booty call," I muttered.

Emma chuckled and shrugged at my comment. I began walking towards her as the white bra slipped from her shoulders and fell to the floor. And there they were. Just as small and perky as I remembered. 

"Do you want me to turn off my phone like last time?" I asked.

"I don't care. Just fuck me Nate," Emma said with a surprising bluntness. 

A sense of déjà vu came over me I looked at her. But there was also a sense of confusion. What was it about me that made me so lucky? Why did she choose me? I would've dwelled on these questions for longer but in that moment, I stopped thinking with my head and started thinking with another body part as I began to hurriedly take off my jeans. She followed suit and began to peel off her skin tight black leggings down her smooth legs before casually kicking them across the room. I took off my shirt as quickly as possible so I could continue to stare at her nubile young body. We both stood nearly completely naked. She only wore her panties and I my underwear. Nothing needed to be said. I slowly took my underwear off and so did she. We were both stark naked, and judging by the way she stared hungrily at me erection, we were both ready. 

I approached her slowly and wrapped my arms around her and squeezed our naked bodies together. A multitude of sensations occurred at one from the feeling of her breasts pushing up against my chest, to my penis pushing against her tight hole, one hand on her rear and another on her long silky smooth back, my lips on hers and her tongue against my own, and my God, that perfume. It was approaching sensory overload.

I pushed her up against the window and guided the tip of my penis to her hot opening and slowly pushed in. Emma let out a long pleasurable sigh as the walls of her vagina tightened around me. Emma stood with her back flat against the window and made no attempt to move us anywhere else. She grabbed my head with one hand as she began to passionately kiss me. I reached down and lifted her left leg up while wrapping my other arm around her waist. 

If I was being honest, it'd been awhile since I had sex so I seriously doubted my ability to last very long. But then she was already surprisingly wet, so maybe I wouldn't have to. As unfathomable as it may seem, I think she might have been looking forward to this as much as me. 

Without bothering to build up any steam, I instantly began to thrust in and out of her with great intensity. Each thrust squashed her buttocks up against the window. To my surprise, Emma didn't mind and pushed forward to meet my thrusts. I watched as her jaw slackened and she began to moan on pleasure. I watched as she looked the length of her body and saw the sight of my penis moving in and out of her; seemingly happy with what she saw, she threw her head back and once more pushed her hips forward, driving me deep inside of her. I pushed right back and slammed her against the window once more and reached up and grabbed her breasts in both hands causing her to gasp. 

Her insides were so slick by now, allowing me to move in and out of her with ease. I lost track of how much time passed we stood there fucking against the glass but eventually, and almost at once, I felt myself climax and empty myself inside of her. I groaned loudly and forcefully pushed against her in long deep thrusts giving her everything I had left. I wasn't sure if she had had her release but I was done. Suddenly without warning, Emma pushed my hips back slightly, and while I was still hard, slammed herself down hard on my cock driving me deep inside of her. Once wasn't enough, nor was twice enough, but on the third time, we pushed roughly against each other and Emma cried out so loudly she might as well have been screaming. Her whole body collided with the window again as she leapt up and wrapped her legs around me. I held her in my arms as I felt a fresh wave of moisture pour out of her while she continued to convulse from her orgasm. She rested head against my shoulder and breathed deeply into my ear. 

"Bring back any memories?" she muttered.

I chuckled wearily and nodded as I continued to hold her to me until my arms began to tire. Slowly, I lowered us both down until we crumpled on the floor beside the window, still holding each other and panting. 

"So...you just get right to the point don't you?" I said. 

"Are you complaining?" she asked between deep breaths. 

"No, I just never thought I'd be here again."

"Life full of surprises," she said.

"Believe me, I know," I chuckled.

I sat up slightly and lowered my mouth onto her breasts and took her nipple between my lips. Emma smiled and moaned softly as I began to gently suck on her nipples as her breasts heaved up and down with every breath she took. Emma began to run her fingers my hair and nudged my head from once breast to the other. 

"I'm sorry if that seemed sudden, but it's just been really a long time," she bemoaned

"A long time since?" I asked.

Emma craned her head to look down at me. With her nipple still in my mouth, I looked up. Emma's expression said it all. I dropped the subject and continued to lazily fondle and suck on her breasts. They were just as firm and perky as I remembered. I lapped up her nipples hungrily whilst kneading her other breast, savouring the feeling of her young flesh my hand. Emma didn't seem to mind and just laid there on her back silently. After more than a minute of silence, she said,




Emma Ch. 02



"I've thought a lot about our time together in the past few months."

I didn't reply immediately. From the way she said it, I had a feeling she had been building up to it. As I lazily traced a finger around and under her breasts, I replied,

"Me too. Although it's kinda ruined my enjoyment of the Harry Potter films. I can't watch any of them without picturing you naked and squirming in pleasure in beneath me." 

"That's sweet. I think," she chuckled. 

"So what do you have planned for us this week anyway?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

With one final tug of her nipple and finally let go and looked at her. I thought my question was obvious, but she looked genuinely confused by it. 

"I'm just curious why you brought me to Sydney."

She smiled and ran her hand seductively down the length of her body before lightly running her finger up and down her wet slit and replied, "Look between my legs and find out."

"Well, that was quite fun, but I'm assuming you brought me here for more than just sex."

The smile disappeared from Emma's face and she took a long pause before answering. "Would it be so bad if it was?" 

"Any time spent with you isn't bad. Hell, I'm still star struck just looking at you, but the thing is... we don't really know each other," I said, choosing my words carefully. "I mean, not really."

I suddenly cursed myself inwardly. Emma Watson throws herself at me and my immediate reaction is to have sex with her and then engage in an absurdly uncomfortable conversation before we even have a chance to catch our breaths. Nevertheless, Emma took and deep breath and replied.

"I know this strange Nate. And I know I probably seem like some crazy nympho at the moment, but do you think you could just, you know, ask me again later. There's a lot I want to talk to you about, but for now, can we just enjoy this."

"Okay,' I answered, thankful for the reprieve. 

Even as she said those words, I could tell there was a lot on her mind. Her fragility in that moment dispelled so many of the presumptions I had about her and yet, reaffirmed many of those I had celebrities in general. I remembered what I had learnt about her the first time. Ultimate, she was just a 23 year old girl who could be just as awkward in dating as the next person.

"Ah fuck it," she blurted out suddenly. 

After eight Harry Potter films, it was almost as big a shock to see her swear like that as it was to see her naked. I didn't say a word and waited for her to continue.

"Listen Nate, I'm gonna be honest. It's been a pretty bad year."

She paused for a moment. The suspense was killing me. Knowing all to well I'm less than accomplished at have deep and meaningful conversations than just having fun, I tried to lighten the mood and said,

"Now now, the reviews for the film weren't THAT bad."

Emma laughed and suddenly I was glad her sense of humour was still the same as I remembered. Emma sat up and my eyes immediately wandered to her chest again. Despite her nakedness, she continued rather solemnly and said,

"It's not that. When we first met all those months ago, you mentioned that I had recently broken up with my boyfriend."

"I remember. I Googled you."

"One of the downsides of fame; everything about you can be Googled," she chuckled before continuing: "Us getting together might have had a lot to do with that break up. We had been dating for a long time but during those last few months, I had really gotten into my work and suddenly all these movies were piling up and I saw him less and less. He got angry, I got angry because he was angry and I stormed out of his apartment one evening. It was ugly, and the fact I left the country almost immediately after the argument probably didn't help. We never really broke up but it didn't really need to be said. A few weeks later, I was on a promotional tour for my new movie. In the middle of it, I got lonely, so I called him up only to find he had moved on and was with someone else. I got depressed and went into a bit of a nosedive. God, at times I thought I was quickly becoming just another fucked up child star. A couple of months passed and then I found myself in Melbourne for the premiere and I met you."

"So I was a rebound?" I asked.

"No, well yes actually," she admitted. "But believe me, it was more than that. Being with you was the only fun I had had since the break up. And in all the months since, it was still one of the only time I forgot about my ex and could just enjoy myself."

"So that's why you called me?" I said, not particularly convinced.

"Yeah. I have to admit, I never really had any intention of calling you. I figured it was just a one time thing. But as soon as I left Melbourne, I was back to square one, living a lonely existence of working all the time and not really having any sort of constant in my life. I've been a bit melancholy ever since. But I would always think back to our time together and how much fun it was just to kick back and relax with you."

I don't think she realised it, but her words had made me the happiest person in the world in that moment whilst also elevating my ego to massive proportions. I couldn't wipe the smile from my face which was probably a bad thing considering she was really opening up to me about what seemed like mild depression. 

"What are you smiling about?" Emma asked curiously.

"Sorry, I know this is serious but I must've been really good in bed to leave such an impression."

I thought for a moment I had crossed the line from charming to crass. But thankfully, Emma's sense of humour was just as dry and mischievous as mine and she laughed in spite of herself. 

"You can believe that if it helps you sleep at night," she laughed as she leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the lips, "But for me, it was more than just meaningless sex."

"It was pretty meaningful to me; I got to have sex with Hermione Granger," I said, trying to push my luck.

Emma smiled widely playfully pushed my face away. 

"It's just, I don't often meet anyone who treated me the way you did."

The comment genuinely confused me. She spoke as if I was someone special who oozed charm and charisma. I never thought of myself as someone who could get a girl like her. I just thought I had the power to amuse her momentarily with my sense of humour and that was it.

"I don't follow," I replied.

"You were clearly nervous to talk to be, but you weren't crippled by it. You showed casual interest in my fame, but you weren't obsessed by it. And I sensed you weren't the type of guy who just wanted to sleep with a girl so he could show off to his friends. You treated me as a regular person."

"That's all it takes to win you over?" 

"Look, what I'm trying to say is, I could use some company this week. I'm just so burnt out from this celebrity lifestyle. It's felt like it's been ages since I've done something for myself." 

"I know how you feel. I use to look forward to being a lawyer. It always got me really excited. But now that I'm working full time, it's just so fucking draining."

"God, listening to you, I feel so spoilt complaining about my life. I mean, you're actually doing an honest days work."

"Don't feel bad. I understand. Dealing with the paparazzi alone must be a nightmare. I saw what they were like downstairs. I even saw those latest upskirt shots of you in London last week."

"It was a windy day," she explained nonchalantly. "But at least I was wearing my knickers."

We both shared a laugh. I liked that she wasn't afraid to poke fun at herself. We continued to lie there on the ground, just happy to be in each other's company.

"So tell me about your work? What kind of law do you work in?" she asked with genuine interest.

She was clearly trying to change the conversation, and while I sensed she had more to say, I decided she had opened up enough for one morning. And so we began to engage in normal chitchat. With all the sex we had had back then, it was sometimes hard to remember how much fun Emma and I had had just talking, whether it was about music, food, TV and even movies (just not her own of course).

It didn't feel awkward at all. It's strange, we had known each other for about two days and then didn't see each other for 7 months; now suddenly here we were back together talking about our favourite episodes of 'The Simpsons'. We lost track of time just chatting idly until Emma checked her phone and saw it was noon. She practically jumped to her feet.

"Shit, I gotta go," Emma said as she gathered her clothes. "Will you be okay here?" 

"Hold on, you're just going to leave me here? I feel so used," I said sarcastically.

"Don't be such a girl," she chuckled.

"Put it this way, last time you left me, you left the country and didn't come back for 7 months," I said as I sat up.

"Well come on, let's face it Nate, that was basically a prolonged one night stand," she said as she slipped on her bra.

"I know, I was never under any other illusions otherwise. And yet here we are 7 months later."

She slid her panties up her legs; other items of clothing quickly followed. I hate watching her get dressed. 

"Yes, but we'll be spending at the very least the whole week together."

"What do you mean 'at the very least'?"

Emma seemed to ponder the question for a moment before coming up with a non-answer and replying,

"I'll be back in no time. I just have to get this Vogue photoshoot out of the way and then we can go out to dinner with Russell and the crew."

"Russell? You mean Russell Crowe? We're having dinner with him?" I asked surprised, immediately forgetting my previous line of inquiry.

"Yeah, you told me on the phone said you wanted to meet him. Well, now you can meet him. He's hosting a dinner at a restaurant for the cast and crew who are here for the premiere."

Emma, now fully clothed, checked her purse to see if she had everything. Meanwhile, I was still sitting naked on the floor, barely recovered from what was now best described as a quickie. 

"Feel free to order up. Everything is on the Studio's dime," she said as she checked her watch. "Damn, I really have to go. Wendy will be angry if I'm late."

Emma literally ran towards the door, but whether it was pity or just hormones, she turned around and ran back to me and kissed me passionately with those soft, supple lips of hers. Neither of us wanted to break the kiss, and I considered pulling her down to the floor and tearing her clothes off again but she simply pulled away and headed back towards the door.

"I'll be back soon. I promise," she said.

And with that, she was gone. And as with any other time I had been in Emma's company, I was left thinking whether the last hour had been a dream or not. But as I turned my head around and looked out at the panoramic view of Sydney Harbour, I knew this was very real. I gathered up my clothes and decided to make the most of the all expenses paid hotel penthouse.

***

Emma hadn't provided me with a card to access the penthouse I was basically confined there. Although this wasn't necessarily a bad thing since it was apparently one of the most luxurious hotel penthouses in Sydney. I briefly considered looking over some work I had from my job which I was unable to delegate, however legal work was boring and I had used up some of my vacation days to be here, so I decided to act accordingly by kicking back and relaxing. In the midst of drinking champagne and briefly considering recreating Tom Cruise's pants-less dance from 'Risky Business', I noticed there was a large pile of scripts in an open bag beside Emma's luggage. I pulled the top script from the pile and noticed a Post-It note stuck to the top which read:

"YOU NEED TO PICK YOUR NEXT PROJECT EM, STRIKE WHILE THE IRON IS HOT. ANY ONE OF THESE IS A WINNER."

Without anything better to do, I sat down and began reading one of the scripts. Long story short (and I mean LONG story), it was a pretty awful read. Well, something had to go wrong with my day eventually I guess. 

***

Emma didn't return until 6 o'clock. She came through the door slathered in rather ghastly makeup and rocking and brand new hairdo which she explained to me it were from the photoshoot. She removed the makeup almost immediately before I could even make fun of her. Although to Vogue Magazine's credit, she apparently liked what they did with her hair and didn't touch it. 

And then like a girl telling her boyfriend to get ready for date night, she began pressuring me to pick out a nice set of clothes and to help her choose her own. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been anticipating more sex when she got back, but I suppose having dinner with some Hollywood royalty was just as good. 

The dinner itself was strange for many reasons. I was thrust into the middle of a dinner with Emma Watson, two famous Hollywood actors, one of whom was an Oscar winner, and an Oscar nominated director. Suddenly I felt very aware of how out of place I was. Whenever I was alone with Emma, I could perhaps fool myself into thinking she was just some ordinary girl. The fact that she wasn't a spoilt diva helped aid in this illusion. But being surrounded by all these famous people at once was rather intimidating. Naturally, I remained rather quiet and was content with being a fly on the wall. It was a rather quiet dinner, but everyone seemed to be having a good time. It was interesting for me to see Emma interacting with others. My time with her had largely been one on one, so it was refreshing to see her kick back and have a few drinks and share a few laughs. 

***

We got back to the penthouse late, I couldn't be sure what time. As I sat on the bed and took off my shoes, Emma began to undress in front of me. Once more, I was struck with how familial our situation was. Despite the banality of the moment, it was as if we were sharing a moment that only couples shared. It felt strange. I also realised in that moment that I had made the assumption I was staying in the penthouse with her tonight. Apparently she had come to the same conclusion and didn't bat an eyelash as I began to undress. 

"I had fun tonight," I said as I took off my jeans.

"I'm glad. It's was great getting to see everybody again," she replied as she slowly unzipped her pencil skirt.

"What do you mean 'again'?"

"Well you know, we made the movie for a couple of months. We all got on really well and then we never see each other again except when we do these promotional tours. It's kinda sad."

"Thought you'd have been use to it by now."

"Not really. I spent 10 years on Harry Potter with the same cast. I guess this way of working is still a bit new to me."

I climbed onto the bed wearing only my undershirt and shorts and watched as Emma slowly removed her blouse. She stood there in her white bra and panties as she began to rummage through her suitcase. I just sat there and admired the view before saying exactly what was on my mind,

"You know, you can put something on, but I'm probably just going to take it off again in about 5 minutes."

Emma chuckled and turned around to look at me. I merely moved my gaze down at the large welcoming mattress. Emma simply shrugged and laid down on the bed. 

"What am I lying on," she mumbled as she shifted around uncomfortably on the bed.

Emma pulled the script I had been reading earlier in the day from out under her.

"Oh yeah, I was reading a bunch of your scripts earlier in the day. Hope you don't mind," I explained.

"Not at all. Anything good? My agent is pressuring me to choose my next movie."

"Well, far be it from me to disagree with your Hollywood agent but I thought they were all pretty bad. Although there was a pretty sleazy one called 'Sunset' which I'd like to see you in."

"I read that one," she said with a cheeky smile. "I'm not taking the part but it made for some good reading material on a couple of lonely nights."

I simply raised an eyebrow and smiled at her comment before replying, "Speaking of sleazy, I've been wondering. Was there any truth to those rumours that you were going to star in the adaptation of '50 Shades of Grey'?"

Emma laughed out loud and turned to look at me. "Do you seriously think I would ever take that role? Seriously? For real?"

"Maybe I just like the idea of you naked and tied up," I said with a wry smile on my face.

"You be good and I might let you do that to me sometime. But forget about any dreams you might have of me in '50 Shades'. My career isn't that bad."

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear anything you said after you gave me permission to tie you up."

"Sorry to disappoint by I left my handcuffs in London," she joked.

"I have a couple of neck ties in my bag I could use."

"You'd like that would you?" she asked, making use of her English accent to sound just that little bit more seductive. 

"I'd want you tied to all four corners of the bed and finger you ever so slowly and tease you to an orgasm," I said as I drew upon every single one of my fantasies I'd ever had about her.

Emma smiled widely and, while still in her bra and panties, sat down on bed beside me in a particularly sexy pose. It took all my restraint not tear away those remain items of clothing and take her. Naturally, I began to gaze up and down her body, paying particular attention to those flimsy white cotton panties of hers, but she was having none of it and raised her hand up to my chin and brought my gaze back up to her eyes. 

"I'd like that," she said, before adding, "But not today."

She leaned in to kiss me, but this time it was me who placed a hand on her lips and held her at bay for a moment.

"Before we do anything, we never did finish our talk earlier this morning."

"We didn't?" she asked while my fingers were still on her lips. She began to slowly part her lips and ever so slightly purse them over my fingertips. If she was trying to make me lose my train of thought, she was doing an exceptional job. Nevertheless, I just bit my lip and continued.

"Earlier you hinted we may be spending even more time together than just this week. I'm curious to know what you have in mind. Is this going to be more than just a weeklong fling?"

"I was hoping we could avoid that conversation for now. But I suppose I should know better than to mince words with a lawyer," I sighed. 

"Then let me say something first. I like you. I like you a lot. I like you as a person, not just as a celebrity. I took a whole damn week off work to be here with you. And with my responsibilities at work, that's not a good idea. But I did it without hesitation. If you were to ask me to go with you to Siberia right now, I would."

"I'm not asking you to go to Siberia," she chuckled. "I'm not even asking you to leave your home. It's just, after I finish up here, I'll have a few months off before I start on my new film. I was thinking I need a break. This lifestyle I'm living now, it's draining."

"I'm sure the money helps," I replied glibly with perhaps just a hint of judgment. 

"To a certain extent," she shrugged, "But money can't buy me privacy from the paparazzi. And it certainly can't buy me the company of a good friend." 

Emma looked me directly in the eyes now, as if preparing to gauge my reaction to what she was about to say next. She chose her words carefully and spoke slowly.

"That's why I was thinking maybe, just maybe, I could come stay with you for awhile. You know, and maybe you could show me what life is in Australia."

My mind went into overdrive and it took everything I had to maintain a calm façade. The implication of what she just said was mind-blowing and I could barely process it. I didn't have any kind of response to that. My mouth opened but words didn't come out. She saw this and continued to speak, 

"It's just been awhile since I just lived like a normal person. And I need a change, if only temporarily, or else I'm gonna burn out and end up being another Hollywood cautionary tale. Being with you, here in this country, well, if I play my cards right, it could just afford me the privacy I've been looking for," she explain.




Emma Ch. 02



I took in all this new information and tried to imagine all the consequences. I think Emma Watson was asking me to play house with her. And yet, I was still speechless and I didn't know how to respond. Sensing this, Emma continued to talk, more likely than not just to fill the silence that would have occurred if she didn't. 

"Look, I know this is crazy. I know I'm asking you to skip to about 20 dates into a relationship but I just really need a sea change. I lost weekend so to speak," she asked as she tried to gauge me reaction. 

Still, nothing. This may be the longest I've ever gone without saying anything. I knew what I wanted to say of course, but such a big decision wasn't to be made lightly. A week of casual sex was one thing; it almost made sense, even if it was with Emma Watson, but living together before we even really knew each other was an entirely different thing. 

Emma, perhaps realising the gravity what she was proposing said, "You know what, don't respond now. In fact, you shouldn't. It wasn't fair of me to spring this on you."

"You think?" I scoffed, finally breaking my silence.

"Just think about it okay," she said as she flashed me another one of her smiles.

"Alright."

Emma let out a sigh, apparently one of relief, and laid down on the bed beside me. I realised then that she had been nervous in giving me this proposition. Emma Watson, the movie star, was nervous about talking to me. It was yet more evidence that I had been teleported to some strange backwards world where regular logic didn't apply. 

We both got under the sheets and prepared for sleep without saying much else. She wore her bra and panties, and me a shirt and shorts, and yet we didn't even have sex. I need all the blood flow going to my head. I had some thinking to do. However, after about 5 minutes of complete silence between us, she began to unhook her bra before tossing it across the room. 

"What are you doing to me? You know I can't resist you when you look like that?" I moaned.

"Just because I don't like earing a bra to sleep, doesn't mean we have to have sex," she replied innocently.

"I guess."

Another minute past and suddenly I saw her reach beneath the sheets and after a few moments, pulled her panties out and similarly tossed them away.

"Okay," I muttered.

Before she could grasp my meaning, I climbed on top of her and we began to kiss slowly. Unlike our frenzied quickie this morning, I could already sense we were going to take this slower. In the back of my mind, I was wondering if this was her way of convincing me to agree with her proposal; not that I minded of course.

As our bodies intertwined and I felt myself slide into her hot, tight wetness, I thought to myself that I could get use to this. But then reason kicked in and I heard a little voice inside my head say, "too fast, it would be far too fast". But then as I savoured the taste of her tits as I ran my tongue over her nipples, the voice repeated again, "too fast". I paused so that I could look at her for a moment; she looked like a Goddess. I wanted her in my life as much as possible. But this time my inner monologue said, "stop thinking with your dick. You can't just shack up together like this". 

Suddenly, she pushed me off of her until I laid on my back and she dove underneath the sheets. A few seconds passed and suddenly I felt her lips on the tip of my penis. I ran my fingers through my hair and looked up at the ceiling. Back in Melbourne, Emma had flinched at the taste of my semen in her mouth and ran to the bathroom to spit and rinse. This time, she took my entire length into her mouth. She gagged once and came up coughing and gasping for air, however she didn't complain and resumed almost immediately. As she began to swirl her tongue up and down the length of my shaft, I swept the sheets back so I could see her doing it with my own eyes. It felt like Heaven. I can't remember how it finished. I don't know if I came inside of her mouth or if she climbed on top of me and began to ride me to avoid just that. All I know is I ejaculated somewhere inside of her and all I could think was, "seriously, what's there to think about, this is Emma Watson". 

***

We woke up the next morning and didn't speak about our talk. As we sat and ate the breakfast we had ordered up to the room, we talked instead about the local tourist attractions in Sydney, I explained to her how Australian rules football works, she talked about her favourite cities and she told me about her dread at the upcoming 5 or so hours of interviews with the Australian media. She said I didn't have to come with her and could just spend the day shopping in Sydney. She even offered me her credit card to use but I told her my ego wouldn't allow for such as emasculating gesture, notwithstanding the fact she was a famous actress worth millions of dollars. Nevertheless, I decided to join her on the press junket, if only out of curiosity.

It was a strange setup to say the least. Basically an entire floor of a building repurposed for interviews with the director and the cast; one famous person per room and an endless stream of journalists lining to interview them. 

It soon became abundantly clear that the whole process was very repetitious with most of the journalists simply asking the same damn questions about the movie again and again. And as Emma had told me prior to coming here, they had been doing this in numerous countries around the world upon release. It went on for hours, and it seemed like every journalist in Australia was coming through those doors. Emma was all smiles of course, but I could tell she became less and less enthusiastic as the day wore on. It was only in the few moments of solitude she got between interviews that I really saw how bored and borderline miserable she was. But then the next reporter would walk in and ever the consummate professional, Emma smiled and laughed and gave a good interview. She even granted them photos and allowed one or two of the interviewers a few extra minutes. By all appearances she was having the time of her life, but I could tell it was wearing her thin. 

I thought back to when I had first met her under very similar circumstances. Emma had arrived in Melbourne late and as a result, her people had turned her hotel room into an ad hoc interviewing room. The interviews started late and ended very very late. All the noised woke me up and caused me to storm over to her room and demand that she keep the noise down. As they say, the rest is history. It was hard to believe Emma had been doing this since she was a kid. With that in mind, I guess it was hard to fault her for becoming so sullen and dispirited; growing up in the limelight must take its toll. 

I eventually wandered out of Emma's room and into hallway in order to escape the mundaneness of the proceedings. It turns out the hallway was a madhouse with people manically running back and forth while a long line of reporters were led from room to room. Eventually, Emma's publicist, Wendy, approached me and asked,

"Have you seen Mark?"

"I don't know who that is," I admitted.

"He's one of the producers for the films, I need to give him a revised timetable. He's a tall guy with the glasses?" she asked, hoping it would jog my memory.

"Still have no idea who that is."

"Damn," she muttered.

We stood there awkwardly for a few moments. Two people with absolutely nothing in common except that we both know Emma. Eventually she said, and I suspected more to break the silence than for any other reason,

"You know, every reporter here would kill for a one hour interview like you got."

Suddenly remembering my earlier lie, I stammered, "Uh yeah, it was awfully nice of Emma to give me the exclusive. My editor will be happy," I said, lying through my teeth.

A small smile crept across Wendy's face. I gave her a questioning look before she replied,

"I know you're not really a reporter Nate. You and Emma are both terrible liars."

I laughed with relief. Wendy didn't seem angry at being lied to, if anything, she seemed amused. I suppose as Emma's publicist, she was the one person we could trust with the knowledge of our secret dalliance.

"So what do you really do Nate?" she asked.

"I'm a lawyer. Although I actually do have a journalism degree," I said.

"Good for you. Good steady job," she said with sincerity. "You like it?"

"Not really," I admitted.

Wendy smiled. "Hardly anyone likes their job anymore."

"Does Emma?" I asked.

To my surprise, Wendy actually stopped the think about the question before slowly replying, "I think so. But she can be hard to read. I know she's been a bit melancholy lately. Although she seems to have cheered up since you arrive. I'm glad she has you." 

"We're just friends," I said.

"Uh huh," she replied, clearly unconvinced. "Call it what you want, but it's only been a day and Emma's been cheerier than I've seen her in months."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She was smiling more, cracking jokes and really eager to get back to the hotel. I'm guessing you're staying there?"

I merely nodded as she continued to speak.

"To be honest with you, I've been thinking lately that this lifestyle is getting to her. With the paparazzi chasing her around the globe, nothing in her life is private anymore. And she's been moving around so much from movie set to movie set this past year that she's barely had any time for any relaxation. If I didn't know better, I'd say she wants to go back to university and live like a normal 23 year old for awhile."

It felt almost liberating to talk about Emma with someone else, although I wasn't entirely sure why Wendy would so freely tell me all this. 

"Well, she can afford to go unemployed for awhile," I replied.

Wendy chuckled before replying, "She can afford it, but I'm not sure her career can. You don't make the most of your chances in this business and you'll be forgotten very quickly. And at this in Emma's career, she really needs to build up her post-Harry Potter credentials; God knows her agent and her manager remind her at every opportunity."

I stared Wendy for a moment as she absentmindedly looked at her phone. I don't know why but that comment stuck with me. Perhaps it had something to do with the conversation Emma and I had last night. After a moment, I just excused myself and asked Wendy to tell Emma I'd meet her back at the hotel.

***

I got back to the hotel several hours later after a detour to see the sights and sounds of Sydney Harbour. Once I was back however, I grudgingly opened up my suitcase and took out the work I had brought along on the trip. Perhaps it was because I had been having fun with Emma since I arrived in Sydney, but drafting legal documents and reading over affidavits felt particularly mind-numbing. But then, I had been getting this feeling for awhile now. Call it listlessness, call it ennui or whatever else, but I could suddenly relate to Emma's feeling of dissatisfaction with her life. Maybe a large part is the fact that only last year, I was still in university and going on pub crawls and hanging out with friends during the middle of a weekday. Now, I had a job, I had responsibilities and I had precious little time for anything else. It seems silly, spoilt even, to complain about your life when you're in a well paying job at a reputable law firm. Like Emma I was only 23, and 23 is far too young to be having such feelings about your life. The work I had brought along probably could've been completed in two hours. After three hours, I hadn't even completed a half of it.

***

Emma wasn't back till later in the afternoon. Once again, she found me sitting on the bed reading another one of her scripts, a comedy this time; although it was hard to tell because 50 pages in and hadn't laughed once. Emma walked into the room wordlessly and collapsed face first onto the mattress. I laughed and ask,

"How was it?" 

"Interviews from 9 am till 3:30 pm. Tedious doesn't even begin to describe it," she mumbled without lifting her face from the mattress. "And now I only have about 3 hours to get ready for the premiere."

"Well that should be more fun," I said without looking away from the script I was reading.

"Oh it's great fun, but you don't give a woman such little time to prepare for a film premiere," she said as she sat up straight. "Speaking of which, feel like joining me tonight?"

"Sorry, but I left my tux at home."

"Well it's a good thing I sent for one this morning."

"What?" I asked.

Emma smiled widely, obviously taking great joy in my surprised, and said, "A beautiful Burberry tuxedo. I'm modelled for them and called in a favour. It'll be delivered here before 5 o'clock."

"How do you know my size?"

"I don't, Wendy did. She can tell just by looking. She's really clever like that."

"So I'll be on the red carpet with you?" 

"No, you'll be on the red carpet, but not with me. I don't want tomorrow's top headline to be 'Emma Watson has new Australian boyfriend'," she said before quickly adding, "No offence."

"None taken," I said, and I genuinely meant it. 

"Just stick with Wendy."

"Done."

Suddenly she laid back down and rested her head on my leg and said,

"Read to me."

"What?"

"I read that script when I was on the plane. Sent me right to sleep," she said before closing her eyes and adding, "Wake me in an hour."

I did as she asked and began to read. But as I sat there in bed with Emma resting her head on my leg and drifting off to sleep, I couldn't escape the feeling again that I had entered into some relationship time machine.

***

Panic set over me at once; we had both fallen asleep. Are we sleeping through the premiere? I looked down and realised Emma wasn't lying beside me anymore. I quickly leapt to my feet and ran out the bedroom. The light was on in the bathroom. I immediately walked towards it and opened the door to find Emma standing in front of the bathroom mirror wearing a hotel bathrobe and putting the finishing touches of her makeup, which along with her hair looked utterly perfect. 

"What's up?!" she asked.

"Nothing. I fell asleep that's all. Didn't know where you were," I replied.

"I'm right here," she said with a smile.

"Yeah, you are," I said with genuine relief. 

"You're tux arrived. I hung it on the door to the bedroom."

"Thanks. I hope it fits," I said as I walked back towards the bedroom.

I unzipped the bag and looked at the suit for a moment. It was absolutely beautiful, and presumably far more expensive that anything in my wardrobe. 

"How much did this thing cost?" I called out to Emma.

"I don't know. But they gave me it for free. Perks of people a Burberry representative," she replied loudly.

"Okay, but retail price; are we talking about hundreds of dollars or thousands here?"

"I don't know about Australian dollars but it's certainly over a thousand pounds," she said casually, as if the price tag meant nothing to her (and it probably didn't). 

I left the suit where it was and walked back towards the bathroom.

"You're a very easy person to like Em," I said.

When I reached the doorway to the bathroom, I saw Emma was no longer wearing a bathrobe. Instead she had on a stunning little black dress that hugged her body nicely. Like everything else about Emma, it looked elegant and classy. It showed just a small hint of cleavage and tastefully went about midway down her thighs. And like I said, her hair and makeup were perfect. All in all, she looked every bit the Hollywood icon.

"Listen, about last night," I said.

Emma didn't turn around and instead continued to look at herself in the mirror and adjust her hair. But I could tell from her face she was merely trying to play it cool. 

"I still have 4 weeks paid vacation after this and I've always wanted to see England," I said as calmly as I could.

That made Emma turn around, albeit very slowly. There was a wide smile on her smile on her face which she struggled to suppress. For an actress, she could be quite bad at hiding her emotions. Choosing her words carefully, she said,

"Maybe not England, that's my home and the paparazzi are just as ruthless there as they are in LA."

"Well then how about Paris?" I asked excitedly.

"They're not that much better either. Tokyo?" she asked. 

"Maybe. But I also hear Bali is lovely this time of year."

She took a few steps towards me, smiling widely and said, "Put it this way Nate; whatever the destination, I think I can afford the airfares."

"So? Do you wanna play house with me?"

She didn't need to say "yes" or even nod in acknowledgement. Her smile said it all. I was going to run off overseas with a famous actress. Suddenly a whole wealth of possibilities opened up for me and a life I'd never dreamed of suddenly became reality. My life had become the plot of a cheesy romantic comedy movie. 

She leapt forward wrapped her slender arms around me in a warm hug. I was almost entirely sure this was a better deal for me than it was for her. But you wouldn't know it from her reaction. 

"I'm so excited!" she said gleefully.

I held her by the shoulders for a moment and took a step back and said,

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you look?"

"Yes," she said with a hint of smugness, "I bet you wouldn't look too bad wearing the tux."

She walked back towards the bathroom mirror and once more inspected her hair and makeup. I followed her and from behind, I held her in my arms again. We stood there swaying side to side in the middle of the room for a moment as we both just stared at the mirror and into each others eyes. She turned her head and I leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the lips as my hands began to drift down to her shapely rear. 

"Don't. I finally look perfect. Don't mess it up," she giggled widely.

"How can I resist when you look like this?"

I firmly squeezed her butt-cheeks with my hands. Emma let out a low chuckle as she began to clearly debate whether or not she wanted to celebrate our new plans. Suddenly I realised there was nothing between my hand and her bare skin except for the silk dress.

"You're not wearing any panties," I said.

"This dress works best when you go commando," she said as she began to blush.

"So, if I wanted to, I could just lift up the dress and take you?"

"Don't! You'll wrinkle it!" Emma laughed. "These red carpet fashionistas are merciless. You can have me any which way later tonight."

I knelt down slightly and wrapped my fingers around the hem of her dress. Emma laughed in resignation and didn't resist. I began to slowly hike the black silk up the length of her legs and up around her waist. The dress was so tight it stayed up automatically. I reached down and grabbed her bare arse and squeezed the smooth, firm flesh in my hands. I looked over her shoulder and into the mirror to see her neatly trimmed bush and vagina. I let go of her and began to undo my belt before letting my trousers and underwear fall to the floor. Without saying a word, Emma bent over the basin and spread her legs for me. At the same time, I reached for the zipper running down the back of her dress and tugged down on it, simultaneously bringing down the top half of her dress until it was all bunched up around her waist. I took my penis slowly guided it between her legs and pushed it up against her opening. Emma let out a high pitched cry and jumped forward for a moment and said in a slightly panicked tone,

"Wrong hole Nate!"

We both laughed as I guided the tip of my penis away from her rectum and down to her vagina. I leaned in a whispered into her ear,

"Never tried it?"

"No, and let's keep it that way," she chuckled.

"Fair enough," I said, before adding, "For now."

In the mirror, I saw a small smile on her face as she turned her head around and said,




Emma Ch. 02



Author's Note: Hello my dear Readers! I suppose I have kept you waiting long enough, so here is chapter two (finally!) for you all to enjoy. I love seeing comments and feedback so drop a few words if you have them. I do my best to respond to all of them. Until next time!

*****

Emma jerked awake the following afternoon and found herself utterly alone. Whether that disappointed or relieved her more, she could not say for sure, but she knew that she could not face William yet, and definitely not in the light of day. 

She was naked she realized. Her nightgown had been removed from her sometime after she had fallen asleep. Apparently, he stayed long enough fold it neatly and set it atop her duvet at the foot of her bed. How was she supposed to feel about that?

She felt like a raped virgin, her cunt sore and tender, her muscles aching everywhere, and her eyes swollen from crying. She was emotionally and physically rubbed raw.

Her legs were unsteady under her weight as she stumbled out of bed, but she somehow made it to her bathroom. When she saw that her window was still wide open, panic gripped her. She rushed over to crank it closed, bolting it securely the moment it slammed shut. Afterwards, she had to take a moment to regain herself, holding herself up on the windowsill in her white-knuckled grip. Her breathing under control, she turned only to freeze in place at the sight of herself in the full-length mirror on the sliding door of her bathtub.

She brought her hand to touch her reddened bee-stung lips, her fingertips lightly brushing the cut on her bottom lip where he had bitten her. She turned her head and saw the purplish bruise where he had backhanded her, and let her fingers linger there too. She swallowed with difficulty as she lifted her head to touch and examine the marks his hand had left along her neck. Tears welled in her eyes at the frightening memory of how hard he had squeezed her there. Her eyes lowered to her breast, and she noticed their angry red color, from his attentions. When she gently cupped them in her palms she realized that they too were tender and sensitive to the touch. Her wrists had not gone unscathed either, her delicate skin raw and chaffed from being bound. 

The proverbial dam broke then, and there was nothing that she could do to prevent the sob that burst forth. She was weeping uncontrollably, crumpling to the bathroom floor, her legs curled beneath her, her hands covering her face. She was angry, guilt-ridden, and very confused by what had occurred the night before, but more so by her responses than his actions. He had branded and marked her, and yet, not every single part of her had been, or was even now, wholly objectionable to the treatment. It was that part of her that that made her think twice about what she thought she knew about herself, or about her desires. And it scared her, the feelings that the memories wrought from her. She was sexually aroused at the memories of their violent coupling.

Her tears slowed, as she recalled another memory from the previous night. It was a vague one that left her feeling even more confused about the man and about herself. If her semi-conscious memory was to be believed, at dusk that morning, William had brought a bowl of steaming soap water and a washcloth to her bedside and bathed her.

She remembered that he had been quiet as he administered to her body, taking great care as he wiped her clean with the wetted cloth. He had dipped the cloth back into the hot water often, as if to ensure that it was not too cold when it touched her skin. He bathed her every nook and cranny, and limp limbs with quick efficiency, saving her most private part for last. When his attentions finally did come to the space between her thighs, he slowly swabbed his dried cum from her vulva with the utmost care, ever mindful of her discomforted hissing, which he gently shushed. Cleaning done, he had blown his cool soothing breath upon the seam of her pussy until she was dry, and then lightly pressed his warm soft lips there in a kiss that was more penitent than erotic. It had worked on her like the greatest healing balm in existence, and she had promptly sunk back to a deep sleep as he tucked the blankets back around her.

That memory made her disgusted at herself, because it made her heart swell with warmth and affection... It was appalling to realize that she was actually attracted and aroused by the rough strong man who had selfishly taken what he wanted last night, and it terrified her that she missed and yearned for the side of him that kissed her so sweetly and held her so protectively afterwards. She rarely, in all her life, experienced that sense of security in another persons arm, and never with a man. How fucked up was it that he was also the one to make her feel unsafe in her own home?

The sun was already starting to set by the time Emma snapped out of her stupor and realized she was still sitting on her bathroom floor, her body trembling from the cold. She felt brittle and weak, but she picked herself up from the floor and got into the shower. The water was too hot, scorching almost, to her chilled body, but she didn't care. She scrubbed herself until she had nearly used up all of her body wash and her skin burned. Then she made quick work of drying herself off and climbed back into bed where she would spend nearly all of her time for the remainder of her weekend.

------

Emma felt exhausted even though she had spent the majority of the past two days, and that very morning, curled up dazedly in bed. She slid her keys into the doorknob of her apartment, struggling a bit as she was hauling a huge bag of groceries that her manager had sent her home with. 

After skipping her classes that morning, Emma had forced herself to go to work that afternoon. She was almost immediately pulled aside by her manager, Alice, because of the visible bruises she had no hope of disguising with make up. Emma had burst into inconsolable tears after a quarter hour of being questioned, but refused to answer her manager's concerned inquiries. Alice had not pushed her any further, but from the pitying looks that she received from the older woman, Emma could tell that Alice had developed her own theories, which were probably not too far off the mark. To her immense relief, Alice then gave her two weeks off, one of which was paid, and bought her a bag of groceries to take home. It was all done with the understanding that her work would not be effected by the time she returned to her duties. Emma had never been more grateful to another person in her life.

Emma slid the bolt on her door into a locking position with a satisfying click and then slid her chain lock into place. She flicked on the lights before walking sedately across her small living room to the hallway that led to the kitchen and other rooms. When she reached the doorway to her kitchen and dining area she stopped dead in her tracks. She would have dropped her groceries if she did not snatch it to her chest as if it could protect her, and she just knew she looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

It was evening, and though the sun hadn't completely set her kitchen was mostly shrouded in darkness. Even so, she knew in her heart what the dark silhouette at the opposite side of the room was. William sat at her small dining table for two, at the opposite wall, but at her appearance he got up slowly to his feet. He stood in the last rays of light that shone through the single small window to her right.

By god! He looked good. His strong squared jaw was dark with unshaven hair. His body was muscled and broad, and he was a very tall man, making her already small kitchen look pathetically tiny. When she met his dark brown eyes they were smoldering. He looked ready to spring at her at any second, which made her heart drum an excited beat. It was all so wrong. 

"Where have you been?" His voice was gravely, like he hadn't spoken in a while.

There was another long silence that followed as she watched him eye her from head to foot, lust darkening his features the longer his eyes undressed her. She swallowed hard. Her nipples hardened, and her pussy tingled at his perusal. She was mortified by her reactions to him. 

He took a step forward. She took two steps back, shaking her head and saying, "Don't."

"Emma..." She turned and bolted with her groceries still clutched to her chest.

"Emma! For fuck's sake!" He cursed behind her.

She was already at the end of the hallway when she heard his footsteps thumping after her, but when she reached the middle of her living room, her escape in sight, he caught her up in his arms and lifted her high into the air.

"Let go of me!" She shrieked finally dropping her bag of groceries to the floor. Vegetables, fruits, and cans spilled out into the middle of her living room as she struggled in his arms.

"Stop!"

"No! Let go of me!" Then she bucked hard, hard enough that one of his hands lost its grip on her, and for a heart-stopping moment she thought she was going to break her face by landing on it, but he caught her just in the nick of time.

"Dammit!" He growled, striding over to the couch with her in tow at an awkward sideways dangle, but she was too startled to make another struggle.

When he tossed her onto her couch, it jarred some sense back into her and she immediately jumped to her feet to face him. For long moments, that was all they did. She was glaring up at him. Her face flushed and frustrated tears starting to form in her eyes. He was angry again, his stubbled jaw clenched tightly.

She shoved at him, growling when she only seemed to bounce off of his hard immovable chest. Amusement flashed in his eyes. She shoved again, harder. He obliged her by taking a small step back, which made her angrier.

"Get out of my house!" She commanded with another push, and he took another step back.

"Stop it." He warned.

She struck his chest with a fist. "Fuck you!" 

She thoroughly expected him to strike her back, but when he didn't, she hit him again, and again, and again, until she was beating his chest and screaming, "I hate you! I hate you! I fucking hate you, you sick fuck!"

He snatched her wrists in his hands and squeezed hard enough that it made her almost squeak in pain. She sucked in a short breath in time for his mouth to slam down to hers, their teeth clacking and her barely healed lips smashing painfully together with his. His tongue pushed inside and licked her, and she shoved at him. All the good that did for her, he did not budge an inch.

"No!" She cried out, turning her head from his. Somehow his arms hand wound all around her and her small body was held crushed together with his from their pressed cheeks to tangled legs, and it felt so right that her proclamation sounded like the stupidest idea ever. Still, she persisted, "Stop!" 

"I can see you want me too. Why do you deny it?" He asked harshly, lightly shaking her.

"You raped me! How could I want you?" She answered, hoping that by saying it out loud, it would bring her to her senses. That it would make her want him less, but all it did was make her a liar.

His hand gripped one of her thighs and effortlessly hoisted it up so that she was forced to wrap her legs around his waist. His trim hips fit between her thighs like they were two pieces to a puzzle.

"Rape? You were willing and you know it." 

His dark eyes and hardened face, dared her to deny it, but she couldn't. Not with the memories clearly attesting to the fact that she had indeed been, "willing"...for the most part. And with his warm male body flushed to hers, reminding her of how it felt to be underneath him, at his mercy and at his will; she definitely could not deny it. He had her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face this way as his eyes searched her face.

"I was not willing!" She vehemently denied anyways. 

His eyes flickered with temper, though he did not say anything immediately in response to her pronouncement, he just started to slide one of his big hands down her slender back, over the curve of her ass, and inside her baggy work jeans. It took great effort, but his fingers inched lower and lower until his fingertips curled up under her ass to her press into her cunt through her panties. She gasped, stilling and staring wide-eyed down in to his heated gaze. 

Things just took a turn in a completely different direction. Her body felt hot and tingly all over as his large fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric of her underwear to stroke and massage at her moistening slit. 

"Weren't you?" He asked against her parted mouth.

For the life of her, she couldn't recall what he was referring to. One of his thick long fingers slid into her slick opening, and in response, she took her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from moaning in pleasure, but she suspected that the way her eyes rolled back and fluttered close was a dead give away anyways. His finger pumped inside of her in tortuously slow motions, and her head hung back as she breathed heavily through her nose.

"How can it be called rape when you are so willing and wet for me?" His words were like faint white noise, easily ignored, but annoying all the same, so she focused on humping his finger instead. That, at least, felt great.

"Look at me!" He demanded curtly, and she did.

He dug two fingers into her weeping cunt and said, "You wanted it, didn't you?"

Her breaths were ragged and she was moaning from his words. It was true. It was all fucking true. She wanted him now too.

"Didn't you?" He repeated the question.

He actually wanted her to admit it out loud? She bit her bottom lip and stubbornly said nothing.

A wicked grin curled the corners of his lips, and it was such a handsome look that she wanted to do violence to him for the unfairness of it all. Then, he slipped his fingers out of her and she almost did commit violence, but settled for whimpering mournfully at the loss.

"Tell me, and I will fuck you like you want, Emma. Your hungry little hole needs to be fucked rough and raw."

"You are so sick." She told him instead, her voice soft and airy.

"Says the woman who was just humping my fingers. The fingers of her supposed rapist." She flushed red, both embarrassed by the truth in his words and indignant of them.

She sputtered unintelligibly. He snorted at her momentary disability, and she was so incensed by it that she surprised them both by slapping him quite soundly.

She took a sharp intake of breath her eyes rounded with shock. Damn her temper! He ground his teeth together, looking slightly crazed with wrath. One minute she was looking into his eyes and the next she had been tossed over his shoulder being carried in the direction of her bedroom.

"William, wait! Just wait a minute! Ompf!" She had been dropped unceremoniously onto her bed, the lights seeming to flick on at the same time that she sat up to see him going for her.

She tried to scramble away, but he caught her tight around her ankle and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He leaned over her, while she lay terrified and prostrate on the foot of the bed.

"I've warned you not to hit me!"

"You've hit me!" she pointed to her cheek. "Made me bleed even!" she indicated her cut lip.

He recoiled as if she had just struck him again and stood, pacing the floor before her like a wild animal.

"If you had just approached me like a regular human being, I..." Emma blurted.

He stilled, and looked down at her. She turned away, embarrassed.

"You, what?" He asked softly.

"You KNOW what." She replied with an eye roll.

He walked up between her parted thighs and knelt down. He was so tall that his hips came level with hers even on his knees. His mouth was curled in a grin that had her heart beating like she was having a palpitation, and when his front pressed flush on her pliable body, bringing their faces an inch apart, she dared not breath.

"Tell me." He insisted, one finger stroking her brow.

"I would have loved it." She admitted against his lips.

He set upon her like a starved beast. His mouth was hot, his tongue agile and skillfully mapping out the inner contours of her mouth and tongue. His hands were tugging at her clothes. She helped him undress herself, wriggling out of her pants when he unbuttoned them and straightening her arms when he took the hem of her shirt and tugged it over her head. He pulled back and stilled when he saw what she had been wearing underneath. She tried not to blush under his intent examination. 

Emma had always been a practical girl. Being orphaned and alone for the majority of her life made her that way, but she had one vice. She loved buying expensive lingerie. That evenng she had a coral-colored lacy number on. It consisted of a wireless bra with a plunging V neckline and matching bikini panties that barely covered her asscheeks, not the sexiest lingerie in existence, but wearing it had made her feel pretty. 

His reaction, however, made her feel beautiful, gorgeous even. His mouth hung slightly agape, a look of wonder on his stunned face. His hand was to his chest and she saw a whooshing breath escape through his pursed lips as if he had just been felled. She may have suspected that the reaction had been calculated or preplanned if he had been any other man, but he was William. He only knew how to be authentic, which was what made him so odd, and it was what had appealed to her so much.

"Incredible." He croaked.

His eyes were glued to the heaving lifts and falls of her modest breasts and, unable to control himself, his hand reached slowly, as if afraid, up toward one of those lace-clad breasts. She breathed faster, the anticipation painful. Her body was motionless as she followed the progress of his hand. When it finally covered her breast, her eyes grew lidded and a content sigh escaped her parted lips, her nipple, which had been peaked from desire and the chill, soothed in the warmth of his hand.

He palmed and weighed her while she studied his reaction, realizing that she barely filled his large hand. For one short moment she regretted that her breast was not ample enough to fill his hand more fully, until his breaths grew harsh and ragged and suddenly both breast were caught in his hands.

"So soft." He said, hands squeezing her breast gently, and then continued with such heartfelt sincerity that Emma turned into jelly. "So. Fucking. Perfect." His hand clamped harder, rougher, around her flesh with every word, until she could not hold back a strangled, "Ungh!"

She blushed furiously as his eyes shot to hers in acknowledgment of that undeniably lusty sound that had been torn from her. When he grinned, not maliciously as he had before, but with a boyish satisfied quality, she leaned forward to press their mouths together, trying to hide her own shy smile.

Initially it was just a soft mating of lips their mouths touching with gentle pressure. And then one of his hands slid up her chest, brushed her collarbone, and glided up the slope of her slender neck to cup the side of her face. He turned her face slightly to the side and he fitted his opened mouthed kiss to hers, deepening it. His tongue probed her mouth, and she met it happily, their tongues dancing sensuously. 

One of her hands combed through his soft thick hair, the other somehow found its way under his shirt and stilled over his thumping heart. Meanwhile, his tongue had retreated from her mouth, causing her to desperately seek out the appendage, chasing it into his mouth where he subjected her tongue to the same sucking treatment she had given him earlier. She groaned loud and uninhibited, her pussy throbbing. She was impassioned by his oral skills and by the branding warmth of his other calloused hand busily wandering over her bared belly, thighs, back, and shoulders. He seemed determined to have his hands on every inch of her and she wanted the same.




Emma Ch. 02



Regretfully, he broke their kiss, but immediately made up for it by kissing a hot path back down the one that his hand had just traversed. He sucked and nibbled her soft flesh, and she did her best to give him the access he need, eyes closed and panting heavily as she reveled in his roving mouth. In an unexpected movement, her bra was yanked aside, the fabric giving with a slight rip in his hurry to get to her rosy breast. His mouth latched on immediately, suckling softly and then harder. She felt the sharp scrape of teeth and then the soothing glide of his hot tongue on her nipple and she moaned, thrusting her chest up for more.

He groaned, bringing both hands to the fabric of her bra, and then proceeded to tear it apart. His mouth descended upon her other breast and gave it equal treatment. She clung desperately to his bowed head as his mouth moved back and forth between her breasts. Burrowing her face in his silky hair she took deep lungful breaths of his masculine fresh clean scent, occasionally kissing him there when her mouth wasn't busy moaning appreciatively. By the time he was done with her breasts her, her panties were soaked and her tits were slightly sore and sensitive from his nibbling teeth.

He gave her mouth a hard passionate kiss before he got to his feet. 

"I have to have you." His voice was rough with desire, his clothes quickly divested and thrown haphazardly around her room.

She watched him as she scooted back on her bed, at one point having to bring her legs up so that her feet were planted on the bed, her thighs spread wide, so she had the leverage she need to push herself back to the middle of it, where she hoped he would join her. He stopped momentarily, his gaze caught immediately at the spot between her thighs, and his nose flared dangerously.

There was a pop, followed closely by the sound of his jeans unzipping, and then he was naked before her. She swallowed hard at the sight of his jutting thick cock. How could she have forgotten just how hard it had been to accommodate his length, let alone the girth? But he was quite a magnificently built man, lean and hard all over. She also noticed, with a start, something she had not remembered during their first encounter, he was heavily covered in scars, big and small. If he noticed her scrutiny, he didn't show it, his one-track mind seemed intent on her.

He climbed onto the bed crawling to the space between her thighs. She balled her fists in the sheets waiting for his next move. He bent forward and buried his face between her thighs and then she felt the cool air and heard the deep inhalation he took through his nose as he pressed it there against her soaked panties.

"Smells like heaven." His voice was hoarse.

She was both embarrassed and never more aroused that he liked how her sex smelled. Then all she could feel was pleasure when he opened his mouth over her covered pussy and she could feel only his teeth scrape her through the fabric as they dragged together to capture her protruding clit lightly between them. He sucked.

"Oh God!"

He abruptly released her little nub from his mouth and his fingers joined in the torture, rubbing slowly circles on it. She brought her hands to her breast, pinching and plucking at her own nipples until they were red and aching. He was using his teeth again to tease her cunt, this time though, he scraped hard enough on her heated plump flesh she feared he might actually bite down on her, bringing such a heady excitement to her chest that she was gasping hopelessly for breaths. And when he sucked hard on her clit through her panties this time, her back bowed and she let out a choked sound of pleasure and gasped, "Yes, god yes!"

Impatiently, he drew her panties aside and fastened his heated wet mouth to her juice covered pussy. He made a purely animal sound when he suckled and lapped at her cunt. His mouth was so good on hers she could barely keep from bucking him off of her as he feasted like she was the most delicious ripe fruit. He licked her from her ass, up her slit, to her clit where he would flick his tongue on her hardened button. Other times, he would stop to sink is stiffened tongue deep into her, tongue fucking her wet cunt.

"William!"

His two fingers plunged into her tight hole and then his mouth focused solely on her clit. He alternated between sucking and flicking her there as his fingers slammed in and out of her gushing opening.

"I'm so close. I'm so close." She sobbed with pleasure.

At this, he added third finger inside her, never slowing their brutal pace and her clit was caught between her teeth. She gasped, her eyes and mouth shot wide open as he rolled her clit firmly between his hard sharp teeth. Her orgasm seized her seemingly from nowhere, and she cried out hoarsely, her body jerking off the bed from the strength of it. She was cumming to good and too hard to be embarrassed at how she body trembled and twitched unbecomingly. 

"You're so beautiful when you come." He whispered in her ears as she started to float down from her high, breaths shaky and body spent.

Slowly, she turned to him, and saw the remnants of her fluids were on and around his mouth. She arched up and kissed him in gratitude, tasting her own flavor on his tongue and mouth and not caring a bit. It was deliciously mixed with him.

Without warning he slammed home inside her balls deep and tears welled in her eyes. Her cunt spasmed around him as he dragged himself slowly from her and drove back in so hard, a breath was expelled from her and she was scooted up the bed.

"Oh god William!" She sobbed, pained.

"Am I hurting you?" He bit out as he pulled out again to his tip.

"Yes." She said nodding frantically.

He slid back in, deep but not so hard, holding himself there as she clenched tight around him. After a pause he moved his hip in short slow thrust. She took the reprieve to flex her walls around him, testing herself, and found that yes she was still too painfully tight, but all she felt was a desire for him to use her body to reach his completion.

"Kiss me?" She said looking up into his handsome face.

He looked down at her, a smile curving the corner of his lips and a softness in his dark eyes. He brushed the back of his fingertips over the curve of her heated cheek and said, "Yes."

Her eyes slid close as his mouth lowered to hers, and when they kissed it was tender and sweet. His mouth moved slow and languid, for once taking his time to really feel the kiss as he continued his careful measure thrusts. She felt a flutter in her chest, because it all felt so right for her to be here with him. It was like her body was made to sheathe him, and to fill hers. 

And yet, when she broke her mouth from his to see his face, his eyes were closed in concentration, and she could tell from his bunched muscles beneath her hands that he was holding back, for her. This rough man wanted to take her hard, and she realized that she did not want to deny him. She cupped his face in hers and brought his mouth to hers again, but as she did she planted her feet on the bed, waiting for the right opportunity. 

His cock retreated, and when it started to sink back into her giving flesh she canted her hips up hard to meet him. They both gasped at the pleasure, their breaths mingling together.

"Fuck!" He groaned. "Emma, don't do that."

"But, don't you want to...fuck me hard?" She finished shyly in a barely audible whisper.

His hips lunged into her harder at that, and he let out another expletive while she moaned. "I-I don't want to hurt you this time."

She was amused at the pained note in his voice, and warmed by his consideration, but surely he realized from the last time, and from her responses just moments ago, that she liked a bit of pain. Unable to say her next words while looking up at him, she reached up and hugged his body close to hers, her face buried in his sweaty hair. His hips had stopped as he returned the embrace, but his cock remained lodged deep within her, so she started a sensuous roll of her own hips, whispering, "My 'hungry hole needs to be fucked rough and raw', remember?"

His movements seemed uncontrollable as he slammed once and then twice, growling, "Fuuuck baby! Are you sure?"

"Yes please yes!" she begged one hand sliding down to his ass to help him along.

He kissed her forcefully and painfully, her delicate lips smashed against teeth, as his arms hooked under her knees and he brought her up with him when he straightened up on his knees. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back just as fiercely, impatiently humping on his cock.

He laughed a bit breathlessly against her mouth as his arms adjusted under her knees so that her knees hooked at the perfect position on the crook of his arm, her thighs and butt sat on his bulging forearms, and his big hands were splayed on the small expanse of her lower back. She knew herself to be petite, barely over five feet tall, but in his arms, she felt like a little doll.

And goodness the angle! In that position her womb and walls seemed even more unbearably tight around him, but she loved that her small little body was crammed too full of his large cock.

He pressed their sweaty foreheads together. Their noses mashed together in the process and they were both breathing hard, lips grazing against each other occasionally. His eyes fixed on hers as he lifted her achingly slow off his cock.

"Hmmmuh!" she hummed.

And then his cock was pistoning into her as his arms brought her slamming back down to meet his hips. Her cry sounded something like a sob and a moan. His slick battering glide home was choking her with desire. He did this several times at a measured pace until he found a good rhythm, and then he was fucking her hard with long deep strokes that pummeled her quivering little hole with loud smacking sounds that rended the quiet night. She whimpered and cried out incoherently. Her pussy was stretched and assaulted painfully, but her cunt continued to drip juices all around his unforgiving cock.

"Rub your clit Emma." He told her.

She felt like she could come just from the sensation of his brutal fucking and his voice, but touching her clit sounded like a wonderful idea, so she slipped her hand down and did as he bade.

"Oh fuck me William." She breathed in completely ecstasy, her pussy tingling as her fingers rubbed furious circles on her clit. Her face was heated and her hair was matted with sweat.

"Such a slut." He grunted watching her. 

She nodded in agreement, eyes rolling from the mind-numbing pleasure. "I'm your slut."

He started to fuck her in earnest at her words, driving into her impossibly harder, the impact of his thrust sending ripples throughout her whole body. "Fuck! You are amazing, Emma."

She was making keening cries, her middle and index fingers rubbing her clit frantically. She was so close to orgasm, but was frustratingly unable to reach it.

"William?" She cried his name desperately.

He did not say anything, but immediately sought to cater to her plea. The violent slamming of his hips became constant and ceaseless as he slurped one of her jiggling breast into his mouth and sucked and sucked. Her tit gave a sharp pinch that zinged throughout her body, straight to her cunt, and her climax took her. 

He didn't stop even then, but bit down hard on her breast and she screamed feeling as if she was peaking again. She felt so overwhelmed with sensations that she was sure she could take no more, but he pushed her. Her sore used cunt was still spasming and milking around him when he slammed her back down on the bed, folding her knees to her shoulders and started fucking her purely for his own pleasure. 

"I wanna stay in your pretty pussy forever." He grunted in between harsh breath. "Want it to remember its master." 

She wormed a hand down and scratched lightly down his taut flexing belly where the coarse hairs of his treasure trail began. She heard him gasp and felt the shudder of his stomach under her fingertips. His hips thrust once, twice, and then slammed home and froze there, spewing thick and hot inside of her.

"Shit!" he cursed through gritted teeth.

Gratification like she had never known filled her chest and heart just as surely as his seed was filling her sated quivering quim. Boneless and exhausted, she gave in to the sweet call of slumber, smiling contentedly as she thought, who is the real master here?



Emma Ch. 03



Emma was at home more often than she used to be, so she met Harriett much more frequently than before. Harriett's hours of work were determined by the demands of her job which varied considerably from both week to week and from day to day. Generally, Harriett was as likely to be at home during the day as in the evening or weekend. 

Emma returned from visiting a video company she'd been investigating. This company made sex cartoon films which concentrated on a set of standard characters with rather exaggerated sexual characteristics. This included a woman with 80 inch breasts, a man with a twenty-four inch prick, a woman with buttocks she could bounce on and so on. Sex cartoons were able to deal with subjects which a Four X station would be able to screen with less worry than if they contained real people, but Emma was worried about the suitability of bestiality and child sex displayed in some of them. Her biggest concern was with the rape cartoons, where violent rape was somehow disguised as comedy. 

When she got home, she was surprised to find Harriett in the living room sitting on the sofa with her head in her hands and to hear small sobs come from her. Harriett was normally so cheerful, so this was especially strange. Emma threw off Charlottes's overcoat, ran over to Harriett and put her arm round her shoulder. 

"What's wrong?" she asked, studying Harriett's tear-streaked face. 

"Nothing," sniffed Harriett. "Nothing." 

"Don't be silly!" Emma said. "There must be something." 

"It's work," Harriett admitted. 

"Yes?" 

"You know that we've got this Three X rating and my work would have to change..." 

"...Yes." 

"...and I've got to make love with a woman, and ... and now I've been told that I'm going to have to do it soon ... and I've been trying to say I can't ... but it's my job and I don't want to lose it ... but I don't know if I can ..." 

"But you can make love with a woman can't you?" wondered Emma who'd watched so much lesbian sex on research videos recently and of course had also helped to organise such activities for breakfast television. 

"Well no!" said Harriett. "I've never done so ... and I don't think I could ... especially with cameras on me ... I'm just not like that." 

"Neither am I," sniffed Emma. "But I'm sure you can make love with a woman without it meaning very much." 

"But it's different when it's with men. You don't know. You don't do it, but if you enjoy making love you can at least concentrate on that and not the cameras or anything ... and I'm going to do that soon." 

"But Harriett ... I'm sure you can do it," said Emma reassuringly, hugging Harriett's shoulders. Harriett sniffed, but started weeping again. 

"I don't think I can," she sobbed. "I can't! I can't!" 

"Can I help in any way?" wondered Emma with a surge of affection for Harriett. 

"In what way? You're not a lesbian!" 

"Isn't that better? Perhaps if I'm not a lesbian, it'd be better. Perhaps we could pretend and perhaps it will be better for you." 

"Do you mean make love with you?" 

"Of course not!" said Emma, genuinely shocked. "But we could sort of masturbate together and feel each other. That's not sex. And I certainly don't want sex. But perhaps it'll make it easier for you when you have to do it at work." 

"Are you serious, Emma?" said Harriett who had stopped crying. "You don't mind?" 

"Well, it won't be sex, will it?" 

"Shall I take my clothes off?" 

"Of course," smiled Emma, who of course wasn't wearing anything anyway. Harriett quickly pulled off the nylon shorts and jersey she always wore. As Harriett removed them, Emma thought with a sudden jump in her breast that this was in fact the first time after all these months of living in the same flat that she'd ever seen Harriett naked. Even when she had a bath, she wore a towel around her. It was curious that Harriett must have got very used to seeing Emma and Charlotte without clothes. Emma had seen Harriett on television with no clothes making love, but somehow that was not the same as being in the same room as her. Harriett had a very athletic body, with medium to small breasts, a taut stomach, and slim buttocks and thighs. 

"What do we do?" asked Emma uneasily. 

"Touch ourselves," said Harriett. "Nothing more." 

At first this was very awkward, as the two girls touched and stroked each others' bodies and occasionally kissed each other on the cheek or the shoulder. Emma put her head on Harriett's stomach and put her tongue into Harriett's navel. "That's nice," said Harriett appreciatively. More emboldened, Emma started licking Harriett's skin and Harriett reciprocated. They continued like this for ever such a long time. 

"It's not making love, is it?" wondered Emma. 

"We're not lesbians. How can it be?" 

"Should we masturbate?" 

"Only if it feels right." 

"Maybe it does," answered Emma who placed her fingers on her clitoris and stroked and worried it while kissing and stroking Harriett, who smiled and watched Emma's fingers moving in and out, up and down. "I've never seen a woman do that before." 

"I've only seen Charlotte do it, but I try not to watch." 

Emma and Harriett were playing together for several hours of masturbating and stroking each other, kissing themselves, but nothing sexual, no tongue-kissing, nothing like that. They were still experimenting when Charlotte came home. 

She stood at the door of the living room, still in her clothes which she'd not taken off and watched in growing horror as she established first what was going on and who the two naked girls were. She then released a cry of pain and sobbed uncontrollably. 

Emma and Harriett hadn't noticed Charlotte arrive and were totally startled. They stopped what they were doing, and Emma ran over to comfort Charlotte. "What's wrong?" she asked trying to put her arm round Charlotte's shoulders. 

"You know exactly what's wrong. It's me who loves you. I'm the one that loves you. I want to make love with you. I love you so much it hurts. But you make love with Harriett who can make love to as many people as she likes. I love you so much it hurts." 

"But it's not what you think..." Emma tried to explain. "Harriett's just practising for her television program. Neither of us are lesbian, so it's not the real thing." 

"So, if you're not lesbian it's all right is it?" sobbed Charlotte. "So if you love someone you are made to feel so frustrated that your heart aches with a hurt you can't describe. You think about that person every day, and your mood changes with every smile and rebuke of that person. You feel a pain that won't go away. But if you don't love someone, you can have sex with that person all the time." 

"Don't be silly, Charlotte," rejoined Harriett. "We're not lovers and we haven't been making love." 

"You're my best friend Charlotte," reassured Emma. "Our friendship isn't to do with sex. Nor is my friendship with Harriett to do with sex." 

"It looks like sex to me!" sobbed Charlotte who ran into her room. She threw herself on the bed, and fully clothed she stayed there crying and sobbing all night. Harriett, who tactfully put her clothes back on, and Emma tried to console her but to no avail. "I'm the one who loves you," repeated Charlotte. "Why don't you return my love." 

"But Charlotte, I'm not a lesbian. How could I love you except as a friend?" 

A few days later, Emma was again at home wading through a pile of videos in the series of Hollywood Sex Classics. These were essentially old classic films such as Casablanca, Gone With the Wind, The Wizard of Oz and Citizen Kane which had extra scenes added to them to gain a Four X certification. This was achieved mostly by computer graphics and it worked by taking a scene in the film where there was any love interest and considerably extending it. So in a film such as Gone With The Wind in any scene where the two main characters might be kissing, the faces and other features would then be, by computer emulation, superimposed on footage of some porn actors and actresses indulging in full sex so that it would seem that Cary Grant, Greta Garbo or Lauren Bacall were the characters doing so. 

In Wizard of Oz this produced a scene where Dorothy had full carnal knowledge of the Scarecrow and of the Wicked Witch of the North. Emma found all this faintly amusing. It was strange to see Humphrey Bogart having sex with so many different women. It was perhaps a little shocking to see the Seven Dwarfs take turns with Snow White or to see Luke Skywalker have anal intercourse with Princess Leia. However, for practical purposes the issue was really whether or not the films infringed any copyright laws - though in most cases the copyrights had expired many years before.

Emma had just got to the part in a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers film where the two pulled off their clothes and fucked in front of some delighted onlookers when she became aware that Harriett had come in. "Hello," she greeted, "How's your day been?" 

"Nothing special," Harriett answered coming over to Emma and putting her arms around Emma's shoulders in a friendly way. "What are you watching now. Not more Tap Dancing with dicks?" 

"I'm afraid so," laughed Emma turning her head round. She was a little surprised to see that Harriett wasn't wearing any clothes, but she supposed that perhaps with both Charlotte and she being practicing naturists Harriett had decided to discard her clothes. Neither of the girls had made any comment about their recent intimacy, although Charlotte was still fairly upset. Couldn't she realise, wondered Emma, that making love wasn't the same as being in love? It's one thing, she was sure, to be intimate with someone and another for it to have any real significance. 

"I'm sure Ginger Rogers wasn't as expert as sucking pricks as in this film," commented Harriett. 

"You should see what Dorothy gets up to with the Tin Man," Emma responded. 

"Look at Ginger's cunt. She's a genuine redhead. And I don't mean what's going in and out of her cunt." 

"Is there a difference between pubic hairs and other hairs?" wondered Emma. 

"Well," commented Harriett, "your hair's a sort of mousy colour but your pubes are just a little bit darker." She put her hand into Emma's thick mass of pubic hair and started pulling and stroking it. 

"What about yours?" wondered Emma taking her eyes from Ginger and Fred fucking and screaming, and looked at Harriett's somewhat thinner bush of hair. 

"Have a good look," smiled Harriett guiding Emma's hand into it. The two girls stroked each other's groins for a moment until Harriett made bold to kiss Emma full on the mouth. Emma pushed Harriett off. 

"Don't!" she admonished. 

Harriett smiled coyly and then said: "Wasn't it fun the other day? I'm sure it'll help me in my work." 

"Haven't you had your lesbian session yet?" 

"Not yet. It's been postponed for a couple of weeks - but I can't say I'm sorry." 

"Why's that?" 

"Well," smiled Harriett shyly, "you're still my only experience. I'm just as much a virgin as you." 

"Don't be silly." 

"Don't be silly yourself!" responded Harriett putting her mouth to Emma's again. 

This time Emma didn't push Harriett off, but as the two girls' intimacy gradually grew Emma wasn't at all sure at which stage the activity stopped being one of playing and became one where there was a sense of seriousness and urgency to it. Certainly, she loved holding and feeling and licking Harriett's very fit and muscular body. She loved the little freckles around Harriett's nose and the other slightly larger ones speckled over her shoulders. She loved the feel of Harriett's fingers as they probed in and out of her cunt. She loved the moistness of the feel of Harriett's own cunt as her fingers went in and out. 

"OOh! OOOHHH! OOOHH!" she gasped as Harriett's tongue worked around her clitoris. She pushed her tongue deep into Harriett's mouth and relished the taste of her own cunt on Harriett's tongue. The two of them struggled with their mouths pushing hard against the other, their fingers frantically working at the other's clitoris. After Emma's first orgasm, the intensity was so severe she couldn't imagine it could ever be matched. But it was only moments later when Emma gave vent to a scream she just couldn't contain. And then another. And then another. She only became distantly aware that Harriett was also making rather a lot of noise. And then as their slippery bodies slid against each other the two gave a great shuddering at the same time with such intensity that they had to push each other off. 

They lay back looking at each other. This isn't real sex, Emma said to herself. I don't go after women and I'm not in love with Harriett. But she enjoyed it nonetheless. 

"We must do this again," commented Harriett smiling in a way that seemed both very silly and funny and impossibly endearing. 

"How about now?" responded Emma leaning forward and running her tongue round Harriett's much swollen clitoris.



Emma Ch. 03



Christmas came and went without any big surprises or upsets. Brian's party was decent, but nothing to write home about. It turns out Brian dipped his fingers inside Penny's panties before I even managed to make a move. Linda, my other choice of the evening came to the party with a date and I simply didn't feel like hitting on any other girl that particular evening, even though there were plenty to choose from. 

I got drunk and chatted with people present, after a few hours unable to keep up with any sort of intelligent conversation, eventually passing out on the sofa and awakening in the morning, caked drool on the side of my face and a head of an unknown sleeping girl in my lap. At first I freaked out, unable to tell whether anything more than just sleeping occurred, but all my clothes were still on, the zipper up, the stud button in its place and I sighed in relief. Although, I have to admit the girl looked cute and normally I wouldn't mind chatting her up, this particular day I just didn't feel like it. 

Throughout the evening my thoughts continuously went back to Emma, and inevitably my dad. I couldn't shake the picture out of my head. The thoughts lingered when I was driving home and the fact that I would have to sit down to a Christmas breakfast filled me with dread. I didn't feel like another pile of lies, mainly at the expense of my mum. 

When I pulled up in front of my home, I noticed Emma exiting the house on the other side of the street, wrapped up in a shawl that was clearly too big for her and too thick even for this cold weather spell that enveloped the Midlands. Her hair was a mess and she appeared to have lacked rest. Her little Chihuahua dog wore a red-checkered coat and I rolled my eyes in annoyance. She probably spent more money on the mutt than she did on herself; she had never struck me as a good dresser. Her beauty alone made her appealing; everything else were just eclectic bits and pieces that she put on, from clothing to jewelry, usually desperately clashing rather than matching. 

She spotted me stepping out of the car and waved. "Merry Christmas, Milo!" she chimed and I mumbled the same in return. To my surprise she didn't simply turn around and walk away as she normally did, but began crossing the street towards me. 

"Milo?" she asked in a tone of voice that heavily smelled of 'would you do me a favor'. 

I paused, annoyed as I could hardly wait to get the familial niceties out of the way and crawl into my bed. "Milo?" she repeated and picked up Angelique, the little dog obviously not in the mood for walks in this cold weather. "Do you think you could come over later and maybe help me with..."

I didn't let her finish. My temper was very short this morning and I couldn't be bothered with politeness. "I can't, Emma." I said and by the expression on her face, she didn't expect that kind of an answer. "Whatever it is, I can't do it. Not today."

She blinked and smiled awkwardly. "It's alright. Maybe later, eh?"

I shrugged and shook my head. I still couldn't believe what I had encountered a day ago and the audacity of it was simply too much. My mum was always very kind to Emma. I knew for a fact that her and dad allowed Emma to be late with her rent from time to time and mum had nothing but sympathy for her. "Oh, poor girl. Her mother is not well, you see. And there's never any mention of a father." She would explain to me carefully as if I really cared. "Emma works in the evenings to pay her way through school, poor love."

That much was true, but then, most of us students worked in our spare time to pay our way through something. A car. A holiday. A sassy, overpriced leather jacket that one didn't really need, but had desperately wanted. And some worked for school fees. I never felt particularly sorry for Emma because of it. 

What struck me as odd was that my dad never kicked up a fuss when the rent was short or late. Of course, now it had become clear why. She was paying her way in a different manner; only my poor mum didn't know it. I wouldn't have been surprised to find out she paid no money at all. Dad was in charge of family finances and why he even told mum about Emma's inability to pay for her board from time to time, I've no clue. 

Once I found out about their little affair, I began believing that it was just his arrogance and the feeling of invincibility that drove him to it. He was discussing his mistress with his own wife and in some sick way it had made him feel good. I wondered how thick the web of lies really was and I had been oblivious to it, at least until now. I would make sure I didn't miss much of anything anymore, I decided. 

"Maybe you could ask uncle Peter?" I said nonchalantly. I couldn't help myself. I wanted them both to know that I was no dummy and they couldn't run circles around me like they were doing with my mother. For a long time I believed I was angry because of mum alone, nowadays I realize it was simply that my pride was hurt. I detested my father's ability to get Emma by whatever means he did, while me niceties led me nowhere. 

Emma gasped and took a step back, pressing her little dog to her chest. "What?" she asked, her eyes as big as teacup saucers. 

"What?" I echoed sleepily, playing dumb. 

"What did you just say?" she repeated herself.

I wasn't falling for that bait. "Nothing. I just said you could ask my dad if you need something done around the house. I'm sure he could help you out."

"It was you!" she hissed quietly, but audibly enough for me to hear. 

"Pardon?" I cocked my head towards her as if trying to hear better. 

"It was you in the house yesterday, wasn't it?"

I shrugged and walked away. "See you later, Emma!" I threw over my shoulder at her. "That pooch of yours looks very cold."

I walked away smiling. It didn't feel as good as I'd hoped it would have, though. After all, she had been the girl of my dreams for quite a while and even though she and my dad were doing something they shouldn't have been, that didn't mean I was supposed to turn into a brat. Still, I felt that she had it coming and I wouldn't give up until I was satisfied. 

As I opened the door to enter the house, I turned around and found Emma still standing where I had left her, looking lost and very fragile. The wind had blown her long ponytail over her shoulder and she looked like a lost little girl. She had never looked prettier. 

I walked into the kitchen and to my surprise there was no breakfast on the table, not even the smell of it in the air. No dirty pots and pans on the stove or the counters, no food on the table, the place looked like a ghost town.

A shuffle of somebody's feet startled me and my mum appeared in the door. She looked like hell. Her eyes were swollen with crying and she was still wearing the dress she had put on for the party the night before. 

"Mum?" I was appalled. 

"Good morning, love." She said in her kind voice and visibly made an effort to appear more cheerful than she must have felt. "Merry Christmas, Milo." She walked over to the coffee maker. "Breakfast?"

"No, mum, I'm not hungry." I said and still concerned walked over to her. "What's wrong mum?"

Her chest heaved and the heavy sigh that she let out made my stomach knot in fear. 

"It's nothing, really. Your father and I had had a row, but it's okay now." She fiddled with the coffee machine and pulled two cups out of a cupboard. She turned around and seeing that I wasn't convinced, she tried cracking another warm smile. "Really, Milo, nothing to worry about now. Your father is sleeping, so you'd better go about quietly. I should go and catch some sleep, too. I just wanted to wait for you and make you breakfast if you wanted."

I tried to make her tell me what had happened and even though she adamantly refused to explain everything in great detail, I understood that they had argued in a car on their way to the party they were to attend. Harsh words were spoken and my dad had left her at the party and was gone for some four hours before he returned. "He went down the pub," she said and I knew exactly where he had been. "I got upset over nothing and we made up afterwards. As I said, it's alright now, Milo, so please don't worry yourself, love."

We sat at the table, drinking coffee and chatting. Mum went into a monologue, which she fed all by herself without me having to ask any questions. She told me about the party, how auntie Myrna, her sister, who had returned from Australia for Christmas had put on an enormous amount of weight. She talked about the new living room set of her friend's where they had attended the party. She explained the decorations that were in abundance, and to her mind a bit of an arrogant display of kitsch. She talked about her friends' children who were all roughly my age, but whom I hardly knew and didn't care about to begin with. She talked and talked and talked some more. 

I sat quietly through her entire conversation, or rather a soliloquy, mentally pitying dad for taking in the avalanche of words on daily basis. Still, it didn't give him the right to treat her the way he did. I waited for the inevitable topic to turn up and finally it did. 

Mum began telling me how they had a small row at home before they left for the party and they were both in a bad mood to start with. The entire thing simply snowballed and by the time they pulled up in front of her friend's house, dad was screaming at her and she tried to calm him down, which only seemed to have upset him more. She went into the house and he drove off, returning to pick up her up some four hours later. 

"Where do you think he went?" I asked carefully. 

"I told you, he was at the pub. I knew he'd be there. I hardly think he'd want to sit at home alone." She sighed and got up to get some more coffee. 

I knew very well that he would have been more than happy to be alone in the house, watching TV or snoring on his favorite sofa. But I'd bet anything that's not where he was. Nor was he at the pub like he had told her. 

"And you really think he was at the pub, mum?" I asked innocently, carefully patting my way through the unknown. 

"Well, where d'you think he would be, love? At his mistress' house?" she asked and bellowed out a laugh, obviously amusing herself. I caught my breath. "Don't be daft, Milo. Your father is not like that, you know." She sat back down at the table and poured us both another cup of deliciously smelling coffee. "I admit it!" she waved a teaspoon in the air like a conductor. "We have our problems, all married couples do, you know. But no, Milo, I wouldn't have thought for a moment that's what is on his mind."

I noticed that she kept adding spoon after spoon of sugar into her coffee, much more than her normal amount of two. "After all, he's at home all the time if he's not at work, isn't he?" she said and stirred her coffee, adding another spoon of sugar. "Every once in a while he'll be called back to work in the evening for a few hours and he goes down the pub with the lads, but that's it. I'm not happy with you even suggesting the possibility of an affair."

It had struck me that was exactly what she had been thinking of all along. She was so distracted by the thoughts of it; she didn't even know what she was doing. I also realized that I never mentioned any sort of affair to her. I asked her a simple question, and she ran with it. Not just ran, she sprinted, unable to stop the flow of her thoughts, which if calm, she would never have discussed with me in the first place. 

Dad worked at the post office that closed at five. What sort of an excuse he came up with when he wanted to get out of the house on account of his job I have no idea, but whatever it had been, she obviously stopped believing it a long time ago. My heart bled for her, and I couldn't bring myself up to hurt her even more. Not yet. It seemed to me that she would be ready for the revelation soon, but not at this very moment. Not on a Christmas morning, after she had already been through a night of hell. 

We sat there for a few more minutes, mum not touching her coffee. I would have thought it was so sweet by then, that if she did sip it, she'd be able to chew it. 

"Well, I'd better turn in, love." She looked at me properly for the first time since I entered the kitchen. "You look exhausted, Milo. You'd better go to bed, too."

I agreed, realizing that I was knackered to the bone. As I got up to leave, she jumped off her chair and hugged me so hard, she took my breath away. It had been years since she had last shown any physical motherly affection towards me, mainly because I always fought it off like a lion. She pressed a soft kiss on my cheek and smiled. "All's well, eh?" she asked and without waiting for a reply walked out, heading for the staircase and into the bedroom where according to her, dad had been sleeping since they returned from the party. 

Ever since I was a little kid, my parents have gone by traditions of their own parents and instead of Christmas gifts, we would go through the process exchanging presents on New Year's Day. As much as that had pissed me off when I was younger, this year I was grateful for it. My mood was far from celebratory and all I wanted was to get some sleep, without the interruption of faked niceties. 

Hours later, sometime in the early afternoon, I was finally awoken by determined knocking on my bedroom door and my mother's voice calling me to lunch. I murmured something into the pillow, but knowing my mother, skipping a meal is an absolute impossibility. I put on a pair of jeans and a sweater, and dragged myself down the stairs into the dining room, hoping that the lunch would be uneventful. I was too drained of any stamina, including the challenging kind, with which at any other time I would have loved to pepper my dad's temper. 

I was annoyed to realize that lunch was not quite finished yet. I could have used another hour of sleep and having noticed a bunch of Tupperware containing food and neatly stacked on the table, I closed my eyes and made a world-on-my-shoulders gesture, bringing a smile to my mum's, still puffed up face. 

"Mum..." I said tiredly. "Please, mum..."

Tupperware full of food usually meant this would be an errand for me. She has either cooked for Mr. Piper at the end of the street who had no living relatives left. His wife had passed away years ago and my mother made sure he had home cooked food for holidays. Or worse, she was about to send me to the Orthodox church that she visited several times a week, where underprivileged were welcome to a warm meal and presents every Christmas. Never mind the fact that orthodox Christmas was another two weeks away. I could never understand the logic of serving the celebratory dinner on the day when it wasn't your true holiday. 

"No, mum, please..." I tried again and dragged myself across the room as if my legs were made of rubber.

"Oh, Milo, really!" mum would have none of it, of course. "You know not everybody is lucky enough to be with their family at the time when that is where they should be."

Hmmm. Interesting. I thought to myself, wishing I were unlucky that particular day. Dad was nowhere in sight.

"I made some lunch for Emma." She said and without moving I rolled my eyes in her direction to see if she was being sarcastic and the jig was up. Unfortunately, it appeared my mother was completely oblivious to the events of the previous day and her kindness hurt me beyond words. She stopped fiddling with napkins and gave me a stern look. "You know, Emma across the street?"

"Yes, mum." I sighed. "I know Emma across the street."

"Well." she concluded happily. "Take this over to the big house," as she had called it, "and then hurry back. Our lunch will be ready in twenty minutes." 

"How is it going to take me twenty minutes?" I asked jokingly, although my voice must have betrayed my annoyance. 

"Milo!" said mum annoyingly. "Don't be Mr. Smarty. Not today."

"A smart ass, mum." I said and walked out to find my shoes and jacket. "It's a smart ass." I hated to be used as an errand boy. It could have easily been my full time job. Mum was always looking after the needy in our neighborhood. If I was not delivering food to Mr. Piper, I was grocery shopping for Ms. Dunne next door to us, moving lawns for half of our neighborhood and even feeding the squirrels and birds that my mum absolutely adored, even though they ruined all of her plants in the garden. 

"Come on, Milo!" said mum, appearing in the little hall, urging me to hurry up. She held a huge bag in her hand, filled with Tupperware, napkins and even a few cans of fizzy drinks. 

"How many are you feeding?" I asked unable to hide my annoyance. 

"Just Emma, love. This should be enough for a couple of days, I hope."

With a heavy sigh I took the bag out of her hand. "I don't know why you keep taking care of everybody like that, mum." And without waiting for a response walked out the door. 

It seemed the weather had turned for the better. It was still cold, but there was no wind and that in itself had made it more bearable. I peeped inside the bag and noticed a small gift, carefully wrapped in a red and green paper with a small golden bow on top. I shook my head in dismay. This would have to stop soon. Mum was making a fool of herself even though she didn't know it. I was aware, however and it pissed me off as well as hurt me. 

As a young boy I had nightmares of one or both of my parents dying. Brian's dad was killed in an accident when we were about ten and he took it very hard, I remembered. Unconscious of my own fears, I was terrified the same would happen to me. I would rush home from school, unable to relax until I walked into the kitchen and my mum was there, fixing a meal or washing the dishes. When dad was late from work, I would sit by the window waiting on him to return home safely. It only lasted a few months and then I forgot about those fears. Now, I felt that same burning inside my stomach, a knot of terror over the unexpected that had hovered over our heads. It frightened me even more since I believed mum had no idea of the oncoming disaster and I felt responsible for not telling her about it. 

I walked over to the student house and tried the front door. It was locked. Dad had obviously had a talk with Emma about keeping herself safe. I knocked and waited for a minute. She didn't come to let me in, but I could hear the soft music inside and after another powerful knock on the door, I pulled out my own key, letting myself in.

"Emma?" I yelled up the staircase and headed for the kitchen. For a moment I considered emptying the bag on the kitchen table and then thought the better of it. I've done enough for her. The haunting voice of Tracy Chapman was filling the almost deserted house. 

"Emma?" I yelled again, anger rising in my stomach. I felt reluctant to simply go upstairs. The sour taste that was left in my mouth from the previous unwelcome surprise made me think twice about it. 

"I'm in here!" she yelled suddenly, her voice coming from the floor above. 

"My mum fixed lunch for you!" I said and was about to leave when something stopped me. My reactions to Emma had always been an enigma to me. Even though I was raging mad at her, I still wanted to be close to her, see her and hear her voice. It was as if she held a spell over me and no matter what she did, somehow, deep in my heart I forgave her. 

"I'm here, Milo!" her voice reached me again and I convinced myself that there was a plea in it. 

I grabbed the present mum had added to the bag and slowly climbed the staircase. The door to the bathroom, which was next to Emma's bedroom, was open and a rich smell of fruity shampoo lingered in the air. I paused on the landing, uncertain whether her yell had been an invitation for me to come any farther or wait in the hall. As I walked past her bedroom a movement and then realization that she was in her room startled me. 




Emma Ch. 03



She was wrapped in a huge white towel; her long hair was wet and hanging down her back. Clearly naked but for the towel she stood next to her bed, looking at me with an amused smirk on her pretty face. 

"Here." I said awkwardly and offered the present, reluctant to walk inside the room. She smiled and sat on the bed. 

"Well, come in, then." She said and nodded towards the chair standing next to the door. "I don't bite, you know." 

I took one step inside the room and put the gift on the chair. I was ready to turn around, run down the stairs and bolt out. I don't know why, but I feared this pretty girl more than anything at this particular moment. 

"Ah," she chimed. "That's very sweet of you."

"It's from my mum." I said awkwardly, side stepping as if standing in front of a dean of the school, trying to think of something to say to get myself out of trouble. 

"I'm afraid I've no present for you, Milo." She said, appearing to be troubled. I couldn't say whether she was serious or attempting to mock me. 

"It's okay." I said and mentally kicked myself. I was walking right into her trap. I felt like a ten-year old standing in front of his scolding teacher. 

"Well..." she said and a slick smile played across her face. "Nothing, except..." ever so slowly she reached for the knot above her breasts that held the towel in place and pulled it apart. I tried very hard not to show any emotion or surprise outwardly, but inside, an explosion of passion raged. I could feel my heart hammering, sending deafening boom into my head. If this had happened a few days ago I wouldn't think twice about it. Now, however, all I could see were Emma and my dad, standing in front of the very bed where she now sat, doing what I had always wanted to do with her. 

The towel slid down her body, still wrapped around her hips, covering her thighs. Her skin was the whitest I had ever seen on a girl, shoulders wet from the shower that she must have taken moments before I walked inside the house. Her breasts were heavy and firm, bigger than they actually appeared when she was dressed. She was always hiding her figure under baggy clothes. Her brown nipples were erect and inviting. Whether due to the cold after the shower or an actual arousal, I couldn't tell. 

She stretched one of her arms behind her and leaned her torso against the bed. With the other one she reached for the towel and slowly moved one side of it off her thigh. "You like?" she asked seductively, cocking her head. She spread her legs slightly and I noticed that there was not a hair to be seen on her crotch. 

Must be what good old uncle Peter likes. I thought and smirked. 

"No?" she asked and smiled, flicking the other end of the towel away from her body. She knew damn well I liked what I saw. Despite of her beauty and invitation I shook my head in denial. 

Her hand slowly slid across her belly and cupped one of the breasts, squeezing it gently, and then rubbing the nipple, pinching it. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, appearing to enjoy this self-induced ecstasy even if I pretended I didn't. 

"Don't." my voice was hoarse. Blood rushed into my face and I felt lightheaded. 

"No?" she asked again, smile still lingering on her lips, never reaching her beautiful brown eyes. Her full lips were free of makeup, yet they appeared cherry red, flushed with the arousal. Her skin was porcelain white and looking perfect. 

She massaged her breast, and then slowly, making circular motions slid the hand over her belly, rubbed against her thighs only to stop on the crotch. She spread her legs wide, the pink, hairless pussy clearly visible. She half stood up and moved her small arse farther up on the bed, giving herself enough space to put the feet flat on the covers. She sat down with legs far apart, knees up her pussy open, exposing the warm haven, which I desired. 

"Come now," she whispered audibly. "I noticed you looking at me, you know." She placed the palm of her hand over her crotch as if attempting to hide what had been exposed to my eyes only moments ago. 

I wanted to yell at her, turn around and leave. The desire to hurt her was stronger than any I have ever felt. I thought of reminding her that she had turned me down before. Not for sex, of course, but for simple friendship or just hanging out together. I said nothing, however. My eyes flickered around the room and paused on the half empty bottle of white wine on the nightstand. Drunk, of course. That would explain her behavior. I wondered if she drank before she was to fuck my dad. 

"Milo?" she whispered again, tearing my attention away from the bottle and back to her beautiful body. And beautiful she was. Long, thin arms and legs, full breasts, narrow neck, small ears, bejeweled with tiny gem drops. The nails of her fingers and toes were painted in the same dark red varnish, making her beautiful digits even more attractive. I desired her more than ever before, but then, I think any man would do the same at that particular moment. I never lacked for girlfriends, but none had offered themselves to me quite like this before. 

"Emma, you're drunk." I said hoarsely, acutely aware of the little time that I had left before one of my parents rings the house and asks that I come home for lunch. 

"Am not!" she said and pouted her lips. She looked at the bottle of wine next to her and smiled. "I had a glass or two, yes. Not drunk, though. Don't worry, I'll remember everything you do." The invitation couldn't have been clearer. 

Her eyes slid off my face and paused on my crotch. It felt as if her hands had touched me. All along I had been aware of my cock hardening inside my jeans. Now, there seemed to be no more space for its growth. The feeling became one of aching discomfort. I knew she was mocking me and yet I didn't leave. Like a dummy, I stood in the door, waiting to see what would happen next. 

Still lying on her back, body twisted in a way where she could look at my face, she reached underneath the pillow next to her and pulled out something pink. It was one of the toys that had been used the night before when I was spying on her and dad; a smooth, shiny vibrator. She smiled. 

"Come on, Milo..." she whispered and turned the vibrator on. A soft buzzing sound filled the room, quieter than the music in the background, but to my ears it echoed like a thunder. I stuck my hands inside the jacket pockets and slightly pressed my fingers against the hardness in my jeans. 

I was desperate and had I not caught her with my dad before, I wouldn't have thought twice of unzipping myself and still dressed fuck her hard until I emptied my balls deep inside the pink pussy that was now shining in my face. 

"You're a tart..." I said, my voice hoarse and broken. 

"You've no idea," she smiled back and closed her eyes. The tip of the vibrator touched her nipple and she let out a sigh. She circled the buzzing toy in slow and elegant motions around one breast then the other, creating a makeshift eight, the other hand between her legs, gently tapping against her pussy. 

"Mmmm." She moaned and slowly pushed her hips up, lifting her small arse off the bed and at the same time with the fingers on her crotch spreading her labia, allowing me a clear sight of her deep pink pussy with a slightly paler but very large bud in the middle, her dark hole moist from the arousal, obviously ready for me. She plopped back body back down and prompted herself up on the elbow. 

"Are you a shy boy?" she asked and this time the mockery in her voice was evident. 

"I just don't fancy tarts." I said stupidly, hoping to hurt her feelings.

"Ha!" she laughed and stroked across her lips with the vibrator, which was still buzzing softly. "I doubt that." She pointed the tip of the pink toy against her skin as if it was a huge pencil and massaged her face with it. She circled it around her nose, painted her lips with it and then the eyelids, brushed it across her forehead and then the chin, slowly leading it down her elegant neck, around the breasts again, farther down her belly, circling the belly button and finally ending up where its original use was intended. Ever so expertly she turned the knob on the top of it and increased the speed, and with it the sound of the buzzing became louder. 

"I know you've fancied Penny for a while..." she said and her voice seemed to have floated to my ears from miles away. My eyes were glued to the vibrator between her legs, now softly stroking the crack between her legs, gently rubbing the clit, her thighs softly twitching in synchronicity of its movement. "She's a bleedin' tart n'all." 

I still didn't divert my gaze from her crotch. I knew I should have been a better person and end this nonsense but I was too weak. Or simply put, too horny. Who was I kidding, I was a hard on personified, sex ruled my thoughts at any given time and this was the perfect performance as far as I was concerned. "She's not a tart." I replied hoarsely and was annoyed by her loud smirk. "Not like you, anyway." I admitted, my gaze transfixed on the vibrator between her wide stretched legs, slowly pushing against her wet hole. 

"Penny likes to blow everyone and I simply like to be watched. Is that so bad?" she asked and theatrically gasped while pushing the vibrator inside of her. My cock was hard as a rock by now, and I had trouble standing still and watching without doing something about it.

As if reading my mind, she said: "Why don't you take your little Willie out and wank it here in front of me, if you don't want to do anything else?" I was stunned. Little Willie, indeed. I had the right mind to show her! "I'll watch you and you watch me, Milo..." Her voice was almost pleading.

She lay her upper body down and with the fingers of the hand that was free of the vibrator she began massaging her clit while the other one pushed the toy in and out of her pussy, slowly at first, gaining speed and making her entire body flow with the motion. She began moaning in synchronicity with the movement of the vibrator and her fingers. It was like an enchanting dance to me. This beautiful body was waving in front of my eyes like a leaf in the wind, opening her eyes just enough to make certain I was still there, speeding the rhythm up, only to slow it back down again. 

I simply stood there transfixed, unable or rather unwilling to move either closer to her or leave altogether. My pants were so tight it felt as if someone was squeezing my cock and I had to make a conscious effort not to give in to her demands and wank off right there in front of her. I was too embarrassed for that. In two short days the image of Emma changed drastically in my eyes. Everything I thought I knew about her before had now gone out the window and here was this new person, of whom I knew practically nothing. More then the additional betrayal of my mum - or so I felt I would do if I were to fall for Emma's charms, as well - I was afraid of the fact that at the crucial moment she would mock me and thus humiliate me beyond anything I could imagine.  

Emma pushed the vibrator all the way into her pussy, the fingers on the clit were rubbing and drumming away, her body moved, moans turned into loud gasps and not quite screams, but close. I leaned against the doorframe, feeling the discomfort of sweat on my body, my cock ready to explode with my mind to follow. I knew the one thing that would piss her off would be for me to leave right then, but I didn't. 

I watched her porcelain white skin turn pink and break out in gooseflesh. Her toes curled up and the knees opened and closed rapidly in the rhythm of her pleasure. Her face turned red and the vein in the middle of her forehead stood out from the strain. She kept her eyes tightly closed, her mouth slightly open with the tongue flickering in and out like she was a snake. The beauty of her face was replaced by an ugly mask of ecstasy and when her body began to shudder she let out a scream, which for some reason I didn't quite believe was real, but more put on for my sake. She pulled the vibrator out and placed the palm of her hand across the clit and her juicy hole, and the movement stopped. She lay on the bed, breathing hard, her face unfolding into the smooth visage that I had been used to.

Before she opened her eyes I turned around and fled. I ran down the stairs, taking two and three at the time, desperate to relieve my own tension in the pants. Bolting inside the small downstairs bathroom I closed and carefully locked the door behind me, unzipped my pants and wanked off. It didn't take more than a few seconds and my own body stiffened, spewing hot sperm into the sink in front of me. I didn't even have the time to think about Emma on the bed as I had seen her only seconds before. My entire being was concentrated on the pressure built up in my cock. 

Even as I cleaned up myself and the telltale signs of my actions, I couldn't quite catch my breath and my hands wouldn't stop from trembling. I splashed some cold water on my face and finally ready to face the world stepped out into the hall. 

Emma stood by the staircase railing, wrapped in her towel again, smiling knowingly. I wanted to grab her and kiss her hard; at the same time I wanted to smack her silly. 

"That was a waste." She giggled in amusement as I bolted past her, my face probably beetroot red. I exited the house and headed towards my own home. 

I was torn between love and hate, admiration of her boldness and disgust over her insolence. I was not done with Emma yet, not by a long shot, I was aware of that. I dragged myself across the street with a heavy heart, images of the beautiful girl playing with herself flashing in my mind. 



Emma Ch. 03



It is sometime in May, I'm not sure of the exact date. I should be thousands of miles away in another country on another continent, sitting in my office and doing mind-numbingly boring paperwork. Instead, I'm standing in a hotel room in downtown Tokyo overlooking the urban expanse of neon lit skyscrapers. I had taken an extended leave of absence from work to be here; admittedly a rather irresponsible decision, but one that I don't regret for a second. But that's not the strangest part of my current situation. The strangest part is that behind me on the bed sits Emma Watson. This wasn't some girl who happened to share the same name as the famous actress; this was the famous actress. This was THE Emma Watson of Harry Potter fame. 

As I looked out across the city, I thought back on how we got here. Officially, Emma was here to shoot a television ad for a popular Japanese soft drink which in her words tasted "pretty savage". Unofficially, we were merely using this as an excuse to escape from our respective lives. Emma was desperate to escape her celebrity lifestyle for awhile and a low key trip to Japan was the perfect way to do this. My situation was a bit more complicated. I was still a middle class working 23 year old trying to make ends meet. So after Emma and I rekindled our romance at a film premiere in Sydney earlier this year, she stayed at my quiet suburban house in Australia for awhile. But when the paparazzi caught wind of her presence, it got to be too much. I also suspected Emma wasn't really content with sitting at home alone all day while I continued to work 9-5, and so we left Australia after only two weeks. This wasn't a particularly wise career decision on my part but my job had gotten to be rather monotonous and just a tiny bit soul crushing. Also, when Emma Watson asks you to run away with her, you don't say no. We had been in Tokyo for a little over three weeks now, and so far, it was paradise. 

"I finally checked my email today," Emma said interrupting my daydreaming. 

I turned away from the window and faced her. She sat casually on the bed in her pyjamas reading from her iPad.

"Yeah? Anything interesting," I asked. 

"My agent is still begging me to take on another project, my publicist is insisting I take part in a DVD/Blu-Ray promotion tour for my last film and Warner Brothers wants to fly me out to LA to have my face scanned for a new line of Harry Potter toys. Oh, and there was also a spam email about Viagra pills."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "You trying to tell me something Em?"

"There are a few things I would improve about you, but everything in that department is working just fine," she replied with a smile. 

"So you gonna go?"

"Go where?"

"LA; you just said they want to fly you out."

"I think the world can survive without new Harry Potter toys. And I know for a fact Daniel won't be heading to LA anytime soon and without him, there's no new Harry Potter action figure and without a new Harry Potter action figure, there's new no toy line."

Even now with the level of familiarity and intimacy between us, it was still rare to hear Emma talk about anything Harry Potter related. Although coincidentally, one of the films was on Japanese television the other night, which resulted in us having a good (albeit drunken) time watching it and laughing at the overly enthusiastic Japanese dubbing. Still, it was strange to hear her mentioning Daniel Radcliff's name with such casualness. Although having recently found out that her contacts list on her phone reads like a who's who of Hollywood, perhaps it shouldn't have surprised me.

"Besides, you don't really want to go to LA do you? It's chaotic for people like me," she continued.

"That's okay, Japan suits me just fine. As long as you're with me," I said as I climbed on the bed and lay down beside her. 

Emma leaned back and rested her head against my chest. I ran my fingers through the long hair and I thought the lazy morning we had spent in the hotel room.

"You want to eat out for lunch again?" I asked, "I found a good sushi place yesterday that's only a 10 minute walk away. It's near the train station"

"It's Japan Nate, every sushi place is good," she said with a smile. "Besides, I think I know the place you're talking about. The one with the big neon fisherman sign out front, right? There are betters sushi bars."

"You've eaten there have you?" 

"No, but I can always tell," she said stubbornly.

"No you can't!" I exclaimed, while chuckling.

"Shush, I'm worldly and well-travelled, I know these things," she said jokingly in a typically posh British accent.

I shook my head and laughed before replying in a mockingly, "Okay, where would you like to eat then Miss 'Worldly and Well-Travelled'?" 

"Why don't we just stay in and order room service instead? I want to finish my book."

I chuckled and said, "Again with the book. I can't believe you. You ask me to runaway with you so you could escape from your life, and on the second week, you enrol in a university."

"I've been meaning to complete my degree for ages, but work always got in the way," she said defensively. "Besides, it's only part time study online, not exactly the most demanding timetable."

This was something else I had learnt about Emma quite recently; she was smart. Like, really smart. Ivy League university smart. There hadn't been anytime to learn stuff like that when we were busy having sex in hotels during her promotional tours, but now that we had a chance to slow down and really got to know each other, I liked her even more. Emma had spent a lot of our time in Japan just reading and doing her assignments. It was interesting to see how much enjoyment she got from it. 

"Okay, no sushi, but we're not ordering up again," I said,

"That sandwich they brought up to the room yesterday did taste pretty bad," she said, nodding in agreement. "But I am getting hungry so..."

Emma pressed a button on her iPad and suddenly the familiar Siri tone rang out. Emma said spoke into the microphone,

"Siri, where is the nearest 5 star restaurant?"

"There are several restaurants close to your location," said the robot-like Siri voice. 

I tried to take a peek at the iPad screen but Emma had it angled away from me. 

"Anything?" I asked.

"Fine, let's just go to your sushi place" she said as she sat up.

"That was the only result wasn't it?" I asked with a satisfied smile.

"No comment," she said with the tiniest hint of a smile. 

"It was wasn't it?" I said as I wrapped my arms around her slender waist and began kissing her neck. 

"Let me go." 

I slipped my hands up her shirt and ran them up her smooth flat stomach until I could feel her breasts on tips of my fingers. I traced my fingers fleetingly along the underside of her young firm tits before pushing my hand up between them, savouring her silky smooth skin and the way her tits parted before my hands. 

"Still want me to let go?" I asked as I took both nipples between my thumb and forefingers and tweaked them ever so slightly.

"Mmm," she purred before replying, "Yes."

With one hand held between her breasts, I slid my other hand down the length of her body and into her panties before running my hand down the length of her vagina. I angled my head so I could see her face and slowly slid my index finger inside of her. As I expected, a small smile to spread across her face as my finger penetrated her. 

Emma and I had had enough sex by now that we knew each others rhythms, likes and dislikes and small quirks. I knew how she'd react if I began to finger her or fondle her tits. She knew that I always enjoyed her tits and reacted accordingly by taking off her shirt. I gave her left breast a firm squeeze and her nipple a gentle suck before laying her down flat on the bed and moving between her legs. Without a word, she raised both legs and I pulled off her pants and panties and once. As Emma lay naked on the bed, she closed her eyes like she always did. I've assumed she does it because she likes to be surprised when I first enter her. At this stage, our love making was passionate and still frequent, but we had admittedly settled into a comfortable routine. And so, I decided to give her a surprise.

I took both her legs in my hands and forcefully spread them as far apart as possible. I lowered my head between her legs and I slowly stuck my tongue out and gently pushed it inside of her. Emma gasped loudly and grabbed at the sheets with her hands as her thighs tried to clamp down on my head. I forced her legs apart again and pulled my tongue out before planting a kiss on her clitoris and gently sucked on it causing her whole body to quiver momentarily. I looked up for a moment to see Emma looking down the length of her body at me. I always did like seeing her from new angles. I maintained eye contact for as long as possible as spread the lips of her vagina apart with my fingers before running my tongue up and down the length of her slit. Emma's jaw dropped but not a sound came out; at least not until my tongue entered her again. Emma moaned loudly and from where I was looking, rolled her eyes back into her head and squirmed in ecstasy. I hadn't gone down on her since we first met all that time ago, perhaps it was for that reason that she tasted extra sweet. 

I pulled back for a moment and looked at her tight hole, covered in a fine sheen of my saliva. I gently placed a couple of fingers on either side and spread her apart again before pushing my tongue as far inside of her as I could. Emma arched her back and moaned once more before she tapped me on the shoulder and said in desperation,

"Oh God, just fuck me! Fuck me now!"

With my tongue still inside of her, I reached up and blinded grabbed at her breasts. I took both her nipples between my fingers. 

"Oh God! I need to cum right now! Just fuck me!" she begged.

I was happy to oblige and pulled my tongue out of her and moved up her body before guiding the tip of my penis between her legs. I'd done this so many times now I didn't even need to look and easily slid inside of her. Emma moaned right into my ear and continued to do so as I began to push in and out of her. She was a tight girl, but her insides were well and truly wet by now. Emma turned her head to me and our lips met, soon followed by her tongue. It turned my on even more to know Emma could probably taste her own juices as she kissed me. I made a note to myself to ask her later whether this was the first time that had happened. I wasn't pacing myself and was thrusting in and out of her as fast as I could. Our bodies and our mouths were pressed tightly against each other as we lay moaning in pleasure on the bed. 

Emma laid her hands on my chest and gently pushed me up so that we faced each other. I didn't let this stop me and continued to fuck her, but I did ask,

"What?"

Emma shrugged and said between deep breaths and gasps, "I was... thinking...let's just...ahh...let's just order up room service."

I smiled widely and Emma chuckled. I wrapped my arms around her and thrust into her with more force than usual. Emma cried out in pleasure and suddenly, I rolled us over on the bed until I was on my back and Emma was on top of me.

"Can you take it from here honey?" I asked teasingly.

Emma gave me a mischievous smile and placed her hands on my chest and moved up her knees so that she straddled me. And just like that, she began to ride me. I marvelled at her beauty as I looked up and so her hair flowing wildly, her perky tits bouncing up and down and those piercing brown eyes of hers looking right at me. I tore my eyes away from her momentarily and reached for the phone on the bedside table and quickly dialled a number. As I put the phone to my ear, I reached up and put my hand over her mouth and muffled her moaning. A heavily accented Japanese woman answered the phone,

"Room service."

"Hi, are you guys serving the ramen noodles yet?" I asked while struggling to keep my voice calm as Emma bounced up and down on top of me.

"Yes sir, we serve everything on the menu 24/7," the hotel clerk replied.

"Great, send up two bowls to Miss Watson's room," I said before abruptly slamming the phone back down.

The moment I did so, Emma slapped my hand away from my mouth and continued to cry out in pleasure. Emma began gyrating her hips as I began to feel myself build towards an orgasm. Emma arched her back once more, thrusting her chest out as I continued to move in and out of her slick and tight hole. I reached up and grabbed her bouncing tits, kneading them in my hands.

Suddenly I saw her whole body tightening up as her thighs pressed hard against my sides. Emma slammed herself down hard causing me to groan, whether in pain or pleasure, I'm not sure. She arched her back even further and threw her head back. I angled my head so I could see her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut tightly as he mouth remained open but not a sound came out. Suddenly, I felt a fresh wave of moisture envelope my penis and ooze out of her tight hole. Emma remained still for awhile when suddenly a long low moan came out of her mouth as her body softened. The mere sight of Emma's full bodied orgasm was enough to bring about my own as I felt myself ejaculate coating her insides even further.

Without another sound, Emma fell forwards and crashed on top of me. I wrapped my arms around her and held her close. I could her Emma's deep panting as I felt her hot breath on my ear. 

"Still just as good as the first time," Emma muttered.

Anyone watching as Emma lay exhausted on top of me could've been forgiven for believing this was her first time or was the first time in a long time that she had had sex. But the funny thing is, we had only just fucked earlier that morning, and yesterday, and the day before that, and the day... well, you get the picture. 

***

My eyes opened to find Emma lazily tracing her finger up and down my chest. I could feel her breasts against my arm, her leg slung over mine and her wet pussy pressed up against my leg. I turned to her and she simply shook her head and said,

"Typical male. One fuck and you go right to sleep."

"I'm not the one who woke up the whole hotel with her moans," I replied.

Emma playfully hit me on the chest and said, "I wasn't that loud."

"You were actually. In fact, ever since I met you, you've been getting progressively louder."

"You point being," Emma said with a hint of admission in her voice.

"Have I gotten that much better?" I joked.

Emma laughed and replied, "I thought it wouldn't look very ladylike if I was screaming at the top of my lungs like a whore on first meeting."

"No one could ever call you a whore Em."

"Of course not. My publicist would never allow it."

I laughed as I sat up and looked at the clock. I frowned and turned to her,

"Where the fuck is our food?"

"I don't know. Call them again," she said as she inspected her nails in a surprisingly sexy manner.

"It never takes this long."

I began to reach for the phone when Emma said, "Hold on, you told them to send the food up to "Miss Watson's" room didn't you?"

I gave her a quizzical look and replied, "Is that a trick question? Of course I did."

Emma sighed, "There is no one by the name of "Emma Watson" checked in at this hotel. We checked in as Mr and Mrs Bond. Remember? You thought it would be hilarious if people called you Mr Bond."

"Fuck," I muttered as I realised my mistake. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because I busy cumming. Like, a lot," she replied nonchalantly.

I smiled before looking at her and asking, "Still want to go to that sushi bar?"

***

"I still don't know how you could forget. Has no one called you Mr Bond in all the time we've been here?" Emma asked.

"The concierge did on the first day but since then, nothing."

Emma smiled as we sat down at our table. After looking around at our surroundings, Emma warily took off her sunglasses. 

I chuckled, "You know, if you want to go incognito, stop with these preposterously large sunglasses and get dye your hair or something."

"Nah. I don't particularly fancy being a blonde."

"I didn't say blonde."

"What then? You want me as a redhead? Or maybe I should have jet black hair?"

"I'm just saying, this whole sunglass wearing thing on dreary overcast days is a little weird."

"Well maybe I should cut my hair then," Emma said as she played with her long tresses.

"As long as it's not that damn pixie cut you had a few years ago. I remember seeing it on the internet at the time."

"I loved my pixie cut," she said defensively. "What is it with guys and their obsession with girls with long hair?"

"I can't speak for other guys, but personally I-"

Suddenly I became of the two young children standing next to our booth with their father. With a little urging from the father, the youngest child, no more than 10 years old, said in broken English,

"You Hermione?"

Emma smiled widely and replied, "Yes, what are your names?"

The two children smiled widely and said their names. They spoke way too fast that I wasn't able to catch either name. I'm not sure if Emma did but for their benefit, she nodded along and smiled. Having been around Emma for this past month, I got pretty good at telling her real smile from her fake one she often put on for fans; this one seemed real. While Emma complains about being hounded endlessly as a result of her fame, her ire is mostly directed at the paparazzi; she generally seems to have no problem with most fans who approach her, especially children. 

Surprisingly, Emma wasn't recognised as often as you'd think. When she's not dolled up and ready for a premiere, Emma looks like any other ordinary 24 year old and as a result, no one pays her much attention. Emma even took to going out without makeup to keep up her "plain Jane" appearance. Although as I repeatedly told her, the "plain Jane" no make up and regular shirt and jeans combo still looked absurdly sexy. 

As Emma continued to talk to the two kids (an agonisingly long process given the language and age barrier) and even posed for a photo. Eventually, the father ushered them away leaving Emma smiling widely and the kids practically bouncing. When she didn't speak immediately, I said,

"You know, I was just thinking. The whole sunglass wearing thing; I get it now."

"Be nice," she said quietly. "They were adorable."

I simply smiled and began to look at my menu. Neither Emma nor I could understand a word of Japanese, so every trip to a restaurant always involved picking the food that looked tastiest. I put the menu down and was about to recommend a dish to Emma when I suddenly became aware of the sudden interest from everyone in the restaurant.

"Is this going to be a problem?"

Emma looked up and me and then around the restaurant. She even waved at a couple of particularly enthusiastic people before turning back to me and replying,

"Nah, they're just fans. We caused a circus in that karaoke bar last week and nothing ever came of that. I couldn't even find anything about it on the internet the next day. As long as the paparazzi don't catch wind, we'll be fine."

"Don't remind me of the karaoke bar. I was ready to catch the first flight out of the country after hearing you attempt an AC/DC song," I laughed.

Emma laughed out loud and put down her menu. "Oh really? Sing ABBA's 'Dancing Queen' again."

As I sat there laughing with her, I thought back on the various adventures of the past month, I couldn't help thinking how good life was. Sex, sushi and clubbing in Tokyo. For me, it was a life of extravagance with a famous movie star; the stuff of dreams. For her, it was the first time in a long where she could just kick back and relax in privacy and seclusion. Perhaps in some ways, she was also making up for an adolescence lost in the limelight. Our respective lives were a distant memory. Well, my life was at least; Emma's was about to catch up to her. 




Emma Ch. 03



***

TWO DAYS LATER

"Good morning Miss Bond!" Mr Mori, the concierge called out as we entered the lobby a few days later.

"Good morning Mr Mori," Emma replied.

"I need to tell you. You should use side entrance this morning," Mr Mori said as he waddled up to us in an almost comical fashion.

"Is there a problem?" 

"There are lots of photographers outside."

Emma and I exchanged glances immediately. Neither of us were happy to hear this but at the same time, we weren't surprised. Emma looked back to Mr Mori and asked,

"How many?"

"I count five," he replied.

I turned to Emma and shrugged, "That's not too bad."

Emma didn't look like she agreed and asked, "Do they know I'm staying here at the hotel?"

"No, absolutely not. You signed in under Caroline Bond, they ask for 'Watson'. We tell them 'no Watson here'," Mr Mori replied with pride. "But they...how do you say it...suspect you here."

"Well shit," I muttered, to which Mr Mori nodded in fierce agreement. 

"Could you go out there?" Emma said to me.

"What?"

"Scout the place out. I don't want to have to leave unless we have to?"

"Leave?! Do you mean the hotel or the country?"

"Could you please just..." Emma begged as she trailed off. 

It was plain to see from her expression that this sudden turn of events hadn't gone down well for Emma. For the first time since we arrived in Japan, she actually seemed mildly stressed. It was not a state of mind I liked to see her in. I simply nodded and without another word, headed towards the exit. 

Outside of the hotel, it seemed like another normal day in Tokyo. However as I looked more carefully, there were several people on the other side of the road setting up tripods and cameras. They found us. 

Like Mr Mori said, there were only five of them. It didn't seem like much now, but Emma subscribed to the "when it rains it pours" belief when it comes to paparazzi. By some dumb luck, one of them was Caucasian. I crossed the road and approached him. Long story short, after a quick talk with the photographer I discovered that they had received an anonymous tip that Emma was staying at the hotel. None of them were sure, but then staking out hotels and other such places was their job. After a few minutes, I walked back into the hotel to find Emma and Mr Mori were standing right where I'd left them. 

"I hear Paris is wonderful this time of year," I said.

Emma closed her eyes and lowered her head before muttering, "Shit." 

***

"India?" Emma asked expectantly.

"I don't like Indian food," I replied.

"You're writing off an entire country because you don't like the food."

"This from the girl who took 20 minutes to order sushi the other night?"

"Fair point; and I'm still disappointed I didn't order the noodles," she muttered and before asking, "Switzerland?"

"Maybe. But just to clarify, you're still against Paris?"

"Too many paparazzi. It can be almost as bad as LA," Emma said as she continued to look at the travel brochures laid out in front of us. After a few moments, her suddenly eyes lit up and she said, "Come to think of it, if we bought a Eurail pass, we could stop in Paris for a day or two on our way to Switzerland. We could even visit a bunch of other places while we're at it. Travelling on the Eurail trains is much more private and hassle-free than flying."

"I like that. A romantic train ride through Europe ending with you naked on a rug in front of a roaring fire in the Swiss Alps."

"Why is it that every time I list a new country, all you can do is picture where I'll be naked?" 

"Because it is a very VERY beautiful picture. And if you don't believe me, I suggest you strip right now."

Emma smiled and teasingly replied, "Of all the guys in the world and I had to pick the one with the maturity of a horny 16 year old as a boyfriend."

I smiled, "Do you realise every time you mock me, your voice sounds at least three times more English."

"I am English," she said plainly as she continued to read a Eurail brochure. "So should I book the tickets?"

I simply nodded in reply as that smile that I loved so much spread across her face. 

***

7 WEEKS LATER

Two days in Mykonos.

Four in Venice.

Three in Rome.

Two in Paris.

Three in Madrid.

Two in Ibiza

Intersperse in between these stays was an accumulated total of two weeks spent idly riding the Eurail trains and stopping at various European locales. 

All in all, it was a hell of a journey. We had a great time at each location whether it was the Mykonos beaches, gondola rides through Venice or simply sitting in a pizza bar in Rome. Emma seemed to particularly enjoy being on the trains. She craved anonymity but not necessarily isolation, so it was nice environment in which to relax and take in the sights as we zoomed through the European countryside. And the best part of this trip was that we only encountered the paparazzi once when I dragged Emma along to a soccer match in Madrid. Otherwise, we slipped in and out of each city so quietly and we were never in one place for long enough to make much of a splash. We of course ran into many of Emma's fans, but the occasional autograph and photo was a small price to pay.

Eventually, we ended up in Geneva as agreed. And wouldn't you know it; we haven't encountered one paparazzo since. Even the hotel staff seemed surprisingly blasé about Emma's presence. This suited us just fine and for the first time since Japan, we decided to get settled in for a long stay. We'd been here for over two weeks, and although downtown Geneva wasn't quite in the Swiss Alps, it was still cold enough that we could curl up naked in front of a fireplace in each others arms. 

Perhaps ironically, at that moment Emma was holding the one thing she had been trying to get away from; a camera.

"This is a nice photo of you in Paris," Emma said as she tilted the camera's screen so I could see.

"I love that one," I said as I habitually traced my finger around her breasts. 

Emma didn't seem to mind as she continued to flick through the photos, "This one of us is gorgeous. Isn't this the one that nice Asian couple took for us?"

I craned my head to see a shot of us on a boat on the Seine in Paris. "Yeah. Nice photo, although your nipples are pointing through your shirt," I said while simultaneously tugging gently at her nipple with my thumb and forefinger.

"Ow," she said as she slapped my hand away before replying, "It was a chilly morning and I wasn't wearing a bra. Oh well, still a nice photo."

I took a moment to look at her; completely naked, wearing no makeup and illuminated by the fireplace and by the camera's LCD screen. She was absolutely stunning. 

"I have half a mind to turn that camera on you right now," I said. 

"Don't you dare," she said, placing the camera to one side. "I bought that camera so we could take some photos during our trips, not so you could make some sleazy sex tape."

"Still paranoid about that?" I laughed.

"Put it this way, things like that have a way of leaking onto the internet. And with what we've done," Emma said with a shudder.

"Will you relax, I was joking. Besides, if I wanted to film you, I'd have done it while I had you tied to the bed back in Venice."

Emma smiled and shook her head. "I still can't believe you talked me into that."

"You didn't take much convincing," I said, before leaning in close to her and speaking softly into her ear; "And admit it, you enjoyed it; laying there spread-eagled and helpless as I teased you to an orgasm."

Emma was silent for a moment and struggled to stifle a smile. She wasn't very successful and in fact looked just a little bit turned on as she replied,

"It was okay."

"You came three times," I said smugly as I lay back down.

"Two times. Don't exaggerate."

"I'll say this much, you enjoyed being tied down more than you did the anal."

"Oh God, we're never doing that again," she said firmly.

"We were in Rome, and when in Rome," I said with a chuckle.

"It wasn't so much the 'when in Rome' spirit so much as a drunken game of truth or dare," Emma replied with a smile. 

"You shouldn't have picked dare," I said before adding, "I think we were supposed to use more lube."

Emma laughed and replied, "Trust me, lack of lubricant was not what make that experience bad."

Suddenly, the telephone rang. I gave Emma a quick kiss on the cheek before getting up. I could feel her eyes on my body as I walked towards the phone and picked it up. 

"Yes?" I answered.

A man with a thick European accent was on the other line and replied, "I've cleared the area as you asked. It's yours for the next hour."

"Thank you. We'll be there in five minutes," I replied before hanging up.

I grabbed a hotel bathrobe that was slung over the couch and put it on. Emma furrowed her brow as she looked at me. 

"Who was on the phone?" she asked.

"Grab your robe," I replied.

"My my, haven't we become spoilt. There's a naked actress in front of a roaring fireplace and you ask her to put on clothes," Emma tutted teasingly. "You've changed Nate."

"Don't worry, you won't be wearing them for long."

Emma looked confused as she slowly sat up and looked around for her robe. In a way, Emma was right. It is remarkable how I've gotten so use to seeing her in various states of undress. In that moment, I thought back to the first time I saw her naked in that Sydney hotel room so long ago. She was wearing a hotel bathrobe back then too. We had only just met the night before and yet suddenly she was at my door in the middle of the night inviting me into her room. I still remember the sexy little motion she had made to shrug her bathrobe off. I remember those tiny pink panties and the flimsy tank top she wore underneath. And I of course remember seeing Emma Watson naked for the first time. I remember going straight for her tits and filling my hands with them while sucking long and hard at her nipples; Emma Watson's nipples.

I'd tried to convince myself many times since then that I was attracted to her because of her personality as oppose to the fact she was an insanely attractive movie star. Looking back, I'm not sure how true that is. After all, I remember thinking to myself for days afterwards, "I fucked Hermione Granger". But that was then. All I know is that right now, her fame was more of a bother than a turn on. I loved her for her. I don't know when the transition occurred, maybe earlier this year when we were reunited in Sydney. But in any event it doesn't really matter. It was just validating to know how far our relationship had matured.

"Where to now?" she said, interrupting my reminiscing.

***

There was something delightfully mischievous about walking through a hotel late at night wearing a bathrobe and nothing else underneath. The lack of clothes seemed to concern Emma more as she clung tightly to her robe. Emma remained oblivious as to what I had planned but followed me nonetheless down the hallway, into the elevator and all the way up to the top floor. Eventually we reached a set of double doors and walked through to find a hotel staffer I knew as Alexander. After a quick exchange, I handed him a couple hundred Euros before shaking his hand. Alex left and closed the doors behind him. 

I turned around to see Emma standing by the edge of the indoor pool. Most of the lights in the pool area had been turned off. The room was mostly illuminated by the lights at the bottom of the pool and from the Geneva city lights pouring through the plate-glass windows on two sides of the room. 

"Romantic," Emma muttered.

"And expensive. You'd be surprised how much it costs to close down an indoor pool area for an hour."

"I'm afraid I left my bathing suit back in room," Emma said.

"Won't need it," I said as I walked up behind her and reached around, grabbing both sides of her robe. Emma's hands shot up and stopped me at once.

"Are you sure we're alone?"

"Tinted windows and no cameras," I replied confidently.

She slowly let go of my hands and put her arms down by her sides. With one fluid motion, I pulled her robe back and down the length of her body letting it drop silently to the floor. Emma didn't look back and instead knelt down before sliding silently into the pool. I stood for a moment and watched her naked body gliding quietly underneath the water, softly illuminated by the pool lights. When she came up for air, her hair was swept back behind her head and shone in the dim light. She turned to look at me seductively, her nipples barely visible beneath the surface of the water. 

Without another thought, I shrugged off my robe and dove into the warm waters. She looked almost angelic as she floated in the middle of the pool waiting for me. I dipped my head underneath the water and waded towards her. From underneath the water, I could see the blurry outline of her nude body coming closer and closer with every stroke until she was right in front of me. I came up for air and there she was in front of me. The chlorine in the water forced me to shut my eyes momentarily but even before my vision had even cleared, I felt familiar lips brush against mine and soon we were kissing in the middle of the pool. I lifted her ever so slightly out of the water and ran my hands over her wet, slippery breasts. I firmly squeezed one only to have it slip out of my hand. Emma similarly ran her hands up and down my back before groping my rear. I broke our kiss and began planting kisses along her long slender neck.

"This was a great idea Nate," she said softly.

Emma began to playfully float away but I grabbed her by her hips and pulled her back to me. Emma didn't exactly have supermodel's body; in fact she was a small girl with a lean build. As a result, I had no trouble holding her in place against me as I began to run my hands across her lithe body from her slender neck and down to the top of her wet slippery breasts. Emma craned her head back as we continued to kiss. As her arse pressed against my throbbing erection, I fought the urge to take her then and there. But with an hour alone with Emma in the pool, I decided to pace myself. Instead, I reached around with my other hand and slid it between her legs. 

I began by ever so gently stimulating her clitoris. Emma moaned softly but continued to kiss me. We floated in the middle of the pool like that for some time. It was hard to gauge how wet she was given our current circumstances but as my fingers began to rub her sensitive area harder and quicker, Emma's breathing became shallower. Once I was satisfied that Emma was sufficiently turned on and desperate for an orgasm, I inserted two fingers inside of her as I had done so many times before and felt the walls of her vagina contracting tightly. 

Emma's whole body shook at the penetration. She leaned forward slightly and splashed around for a moment. I held her firmly in place by the waist and let my hand have free reign over her vagina. I started thrusting my fingers in and out of her as I continued to rub her clitoris with my thumb. Not knowing what else to do with her hands, Emma reached up and began to fondle her own breasts with one hand and with the other, pulled my head towards her. I obliged and began planting kisses up and down the length of her neck. As my fingers probed deep inside of her, I could slowly begin to differentiate between the water and her juices. I ran my lips up and down her neck before whispering into her ear,

"Tell me when you cum." 

"Not yet," she said with ragged breaths.

I began to curl my fingers back inside of her and pushed hard against a particularly sensitive area. I suddenly felt Emma's hips rock back but I continued to hold her firmly in place. 

"Not yet," she said again.

I pushed my two fingers as deep inside of her as I could, eliciting a soft cry from her lips. I applied pressure on her clitoris with my thumb and once more, curled my fingers back inside of her applying even more pressure inside of her. Emma arched her back and for a moment, the top half of her body rose out of the water as her wet tits glistened in the pale light. 

"Almost," she said in barely audible whisper.

I decided to substitute force for speed and began to rub her clit faster while swirling my fingers around inside of her faster and faster. Soon I put my whole arm into it and assaulted her most sensitive areas without mercy. Emma threw her head back, causing her hair to flick back sending water flying across the pool. The sight of that only made me grow harder and made me finger her more intensely.

It was hard to tell whether she was cumming because of the water, however after spending months with Emma, I didn't need to feel her juices squirt onto my hand to know she was having an orgasm. Without warning, Emma's jaw slackened as she audibly exhaled and her whole body stiffened.

"Now I'm cumming!" Emma gasped raggedly.

I held her tightly as I sunk my fingers deep inside of her one last time, firmly pressing against both her clitoris and her g-stop deep inside her vagina. She bucked against me, thrashing in the water violently as she instinctively pushed her hips back against me once more. Emma let out a loud cry that seemed to reverberate across the large room. I quickly took my hand away from her waist and brought it up to cover her mouth. With one hand still between her legs, forcing her arse against my own groin while my other hand covered her mouth, Emma's muffled moans continued as her orgasm reached its peak and began to slowly subside. I could feel her lips spreading and her loud cries reverberating against my palm as she continued to convulse for at least another minute. Eventually, she weakly reached up and pulled my hand away from her mouth and leaned against me silently. I tread water for the both of us as Emma composed herself.

"Too loud," I eventually chuckled.

"Shut up," she mumbled in reply.

"I love you too Em."

***

We had sex in the pool once more and messed around poolside until the time came for us to leave. As we were walking back to the room, Emma said,

"By the way, some German diplomat will be staying at the hotel soon."

"And we're afraid of Germans because..."

"No," Emma laughed. "It just that this guy is apparently a big deal so the concierge is expecting a lot of press, which means we might want to get going soon."

"Okay. How about we go to that hotel we had drinks at the other night, I liked that one."

"Really? You want to stay in Geneva?"

"Why not, I liked it here. Don't you?"

"I love it, even though my boyfriend is too afraid to go skiing with me which kinda defeats the purpose of holidaying in Geneva."

"I like taking your clothes off, not adding on thick coats."

"And you're afraid of hurting yourself on the slopes."

"Well yeah, that too," I admitted.

Emma chuckled and said, "Besides, I'm starting to get sick of the cold. I was thinking we could go to London?"

"London?!" I said sounding more surprised than I had intended.

I didn't have anything against London, but when Emma and I decided to runaway together, she told me she wanted to avoid what she referred to as "paparazzi hot zones"; this included Los Angeles, New York, London and Paris. We had risked a short trip to Paris during which Emma was worried the whole time that our private vacation might turn very public. Being Emma's home, going to London seemed like heading straight into the hornet's nest; or at least that's what she had led me to believe.

"I know what I've said before," Emma replied as if reading my mind, before continuing, "But I'm keen on seeing some of my family and friends. This is the longest I've spent away without at least paying them a short visit."

"You're willing to risk the ensuing media circus?"

"I am actually; but it shouldn't be a problem. We'll be in and out just like in Paris. Besides, it's not the end of the world if the paparazzi do see us and they take a few snaps."




Emma Ch. 03



"Really? Because back in Australia, you seemed ready to murder any photographer you saw."

"That was then. These past few months have done wonders for me."

I'm not entirely sure what I was anxious about; the paparazzi, meeting Emma's family and friends, the yearning I suddenly had to go back to my own family and friends or the notion that Emma might be getting tired of our globetrotting. Once again, it was as if Emma could read my mind (and after all our time together, she probably could) and said,

"Look, I just want a couple of days in London to recharge and then we're off again. I want to go somewhere where there's sunshine and in case you don't know, London sunshine is an oxymoron. I need to work on my tan; I'm starting to feel pale and pasty." 

I smiled and was just a tiny bit relieved and replied, "You're beautiful. Besides, you're British; pale and pasty is a given."

"Guilty. But I'm getting sick of walking around with stiff nipples poking through my shirts so I say after we're done with London, we find ourselves a beach."

"Back to Mykonos?" I suggested.

"Nah, I know a place," Emma replied. 

***

10 DAYS LATER

"Okay, you were right. Caribbean beats Switzerland," I said as I stretched back on the beach towel and closed my eyes.

"Chocolates and expensive watches have nothing on sunshine and crystal clear waters."

"That reminds me, I think I accidentally left one of my watches back in the hotel room in Geneva."

"Which one? Not the Breitling I hope," asked Emma.

"No, the Omega."

"Ah, no big deal; that only cost 700 euro. I'll buy you another one," Emma replied nonchalantly. 

"Yeah, 'only' 700," I mumbled.

It was nice to be able to be alone with Emma again after London. If I'm being honest, I was glad to have left. The city itself was great. Being able to see Buckingham Palace and Big Ben went a long way to crossing a few more things off my bucket list. However, Emma seemed far too comfortable there for my liking. I know it sounds selfish, and it almost certainly is, but for the days we spent in London, I was beginning to wonder if she would want to leave. I met some of her friends and played the part of the boyfriend, although we both agreed it was best for me to not meet her parents. Still, Emma enjoyed herself and seemed happy to be among family and friends after all our time alone together. She seemed so happy that for a lot of the time, she seemed to forget I was there. I don't hold it against her of course, she'd been away from home for a long time. So had I for that matter. 

But none of that really bothered me, not least because I knew it was a bit selfish to expect to be the focal point of her attention 24/7. What bothered me was even when the paparazzi inevitably caught wind of our presence, we still stayed there in London for an extra three days. For those few days, Emma had gone back to reality, and in stark contrast to the Emma I had met in Sydney, the attention from paparazzi didn't seem to bother her at all. When we were at Heathrow getting ready to leave, she was noticeably quiet. Part of my worried she was getting sick of all our extended furlough which to this point still had no end date. However, the Caribbean sunshine seemed to lift her mood and several cocktails later and we were back to doing what we did best, sight-seeing, shopping and sex.

I was distracted by my thoughts when I felt a thin piece of material fall between my fingers. With my eyes still closed, I fumbled around with it for a moment before realising what it was. I opened my eyes and looked to my left to see Emma beside me, topless and soaking in the rays of the sun. 

"That's bold of you," I said as I gawked at her. "I know this is a topless beach but is that a good idea?" 

"Have you seen one phone or camera since we got here?"

"No. It's a private beach, there's a ban," I said. 

"Then it's a great idea," she replied.

It made sense I guess. This beach was part of a luxury resort that we had an all access pass to; a pass that in Emma's own words was "expensive, even by my standards". Privacy was guaranteed. 

"Besides, I've heard from friends who've done this. They've never had a problem," Emma continued.

"Which friends? Famous friends?" I asked with avid interest.

"Maybe," she replied teasingly.

I looked at her again; her hair wild and untamed, her breasts bare and in full view, her perfect skin shining in the sunlight and wearing nothing but bikini bottoms and a pair of large sunglasses. She looked utterly perfect. I looked around the beach and while Emma drew a couple of stares, they were mostly innocent and there was not a camera in sight. Emma has always said she craves normalcy and anonymity; this wasn't quite that, but it was close enough. 

"You're staring," Emma said.

"Can you blame me?"

"Aren't you sick of me by now?"

"I could never get sick of you."

"This is a nude beach Nate. Consider this the only time where I won't get angry if you snuck a peek at another girl's tits," Emma said before raising her hand and pointing to the water. "For example, there's a smashing blonde over there with what must be double D's frolicking in the water."

Even with the sunglasses on, I could tell Emma was looking directly at me as she said this. Despite my sudden interest in the topless blonde in question, I didn't avert my gaze and kept my eyes firmly on her. 

"Not interested," I replied.

"If I recall, there's also stunning dark haired girl about 30 metres behind us with very perky tits," she said teasingly.

"Her boyfriend took off his bathers about 5 minutes ago which kinda spoils the view, and in any case, not interested."

"Well then surely you'd enjoy watching that very exotic blonde over there. She's not even wearing-"

"Not interested," I said, cutting her off.

Emma peered over the top of her sunglasses and said, "Seriously. Even I'm tempted to have a roll around in the hay with her."

I laughed, "Now THAT, I'd be interested in. But you're still all I need."

I leaned over and kissed her. Her lips were as soft as supple as ever. I was suddenly overcome with lust and unconsciously moved my hand to her belly before slowly moving up between her breasts, pushing both of them aside. Emma let out a pleasurable sigh and before I knew what I was doing, my hand had slid down to her belly again and begun to move into her bikini bottoms as I felt her pubic hair on the tips of my fingers. Emma moaned softly before grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand away.

"This may be a nude beach Nate, but I think they draw the line at finger banging."

I gave her a quick peck on the lips before lying back down beside her. We were silent for a moment, taking in the sun and savouring the sounds of the beach, from the waves lapping onto the shore, to the volley ball game in the distance to the seagulls up above. After a full minute, Emma suddenly said,

"It may not be a Swiss hotel pool, but I bet we could have some fun down in the water."

"Can I invite the blonde?" I said with a cheeky smile.

Emma laughed out loud as she stood up, baring her perky breasts bare for all to see. She extended me a hand and added, "How about for now, we leave the blonde out."

"For now?" I asked.

Emma laughed again and without another word, made her way towards the water. I ran after her. 

***

TWO DAYS LATER

The sound of Emma's phone vibrating on the glass coffee table shook me out of me sleep. The only other sound was the waves crashing against the shore in the distance. I groggily sat up and looked at the clock; it was 3:05 am. I collapsed on the pillow again and mumbled:

"Someone's calling again."

"They'll hang up," she murmured, clearly having also been woken up. 

"It's the third time tonight. I think they're gonna keep calling."

"Fine," she groaned.

With my eyes still closed, I could feel Emma climbing off the bed. I listened as her heavy footsteps walked across the room and pick up the phone. 

"It's Wendy," Emma said.

Wendy was Emma's publicist. I had met her during both of Emma's trips to Australia. 

I could already feel myself drifting back to sleep but still managed hear Emma talking on the phone as well as Wendy's soft and undiscernible voice coming from the phone's speaker. 

"Wendy, is this important? It's 3 am where I am," Emma said. There was a short pause before Emma replied testily, "No I haven't. Because I'm in the bloody Caribbean and it's 3 am."

Another pause. Emma sighed as her frustration grew but eventually I could hear her mumbling "okay okay". As they continued to talk, I felt sleep overcome me. However, it must have only been for a few seconds because suddenly I heard Emma called out,

"Oh my God!"

Despite the obvious concern in her voice, I was just too tired to care. 

"Oh my God!" Emma called out even louder.

My eyes opened again as I sat up wearily in time to see Emma walking back in holding her iPad. 

"Shit!" Emma shouted.

"What's wrong?" I asked. 

Without a word, Emma threw the iPad onto the bed as she continued to speak into her phone.

"What do I do?"

I picked up the iPad and looked at the image on screen. For a moment, I thought it was some kind of sleazy internet advert. But as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, the image became familiar and it carried a nasty implication. The picture was of Emma and I sunbathing on the beach two days ago. I wore my swimming trunks and Emma wore her bikini bottoms; she ONLY wore bikini bottoms. I looked at the other images that were on the webpage and saw many variations of the same image, but there was one constant, Emma was topless. I looked up at Emma and said,

"Put your phone on speaker."

Emma looked at me for a moment; it was dark, but I could tell that all the colour had drained from her face. She had a reputation to maintain. This vacation of ours was meant to take her away from the limelight and into obscurity for a few months. With this latest turn of events, we had clearly failed. Emma pressed a button on her phone before tossing it onto the bed. Suddenly, Wendy's voice rang out loud and clear.

"Wendy, I just put you on speaker phone, Nate is here with me," Emma said as she sat down on the bed with her head in her hands.

"Hi Nate," Wendy said.

"Hey. What do we do about this?" I replied

"Can I assume from your reactions that that is you in the photos?"

"Yeah, it's me," Emma said glumly.

"Well, we have three options. Confirm it's you in the photos and release a statement, deny or keep quiet. If we do any of the first two, we can get the lawyers involved."

"Why would I confirm it?" Emma said.

"You control the story. The media will make it more about your invasion of privacy than your sordid Caribbean getaway. It might generate more sympathy for you that way."

I continued to stare at the photos as Emma and Wendy continued to talk. Part of me was angry at the invasion of privacy, another part of me was just the tiniest bit aroused by the sight of me making out with Emma. The photos were blurry and clearly taken from a distance, but were still damning. The only saving grace was that there didn't seem to be any pictures of our more amorous activities in the water. Also, Emma's glasses were so large they-

"They cover half your face," I said, finishing my thought out loud.

"Pardon?" Emma asked.

"Those sunglasses of yours, they cover half your face."

"So what?!" Emma replied impatiently.

"So, Wendy look at the photos objectively and tell me you can really identify Emma in these photos."

"It IS me in those photos," Emma replied.

"But can you be identified? All I see is a young girl, early twenties, about 170 centimetres, dark hair and wearing sunglasses that cover up half of her face. The photos are so blurry you can't make out any real detail. I can't see your freckles or any real detail in the lower half of your face. I mean, it's not like you have any distinguishing features. I mean, Wendy, isn't the whole reason for your call to make sure those picture are of Emma." 

Emma picked up the iPad and looked at it carefully. After a few moments, she seemed a bit calmer and asked,

"Wendy?"

A few moments of silence followed before Wendy's voice came through the speaker, "He's right. It certainly looks like you but it's far from definitive. And you're right Nate, I wasn't 100% when I first saw them. But I need to know, did you take your glasses off at any point?"

"I don't know, maybe. We were there for awhile."

"Wendy, are these all the photos?" I asked.

"Apparently. I'd have to think that if there were any that clearly identified Emma, they would've been posted."

So what do we do?" asked Emma anxiously.

"I say we stay quiet a couple of days and see what the response is from the public. If a lot of people are also sceptical and newspapers refuse to print the photos, then we deny and release an official statement. You could even send out a joke tweet on your Twitter account making light of the whole thing. We can control this."

"Okay, that's sound good."

There was a moment of silence on the phone followed by a deep breath before Wendy said:

"Emma, I understand why you need this vacation and I'm not about to lecture you again on how this might effect your reputation or your career. But I just want to tell you that you need to be more careful."

"It was one slip up Wendy," Emma sighed.

"I know, but be careful. Which reminds me; next time you two want to get drunk in a Madrid nightclub, it helps preserve anonymity if you don't buy everyone drinks. And it's not my business, but staying inside a Geneva hotel room for six straight days creates a lot of gossip amongst hotel staff."

"You know about all that?" Emma asked.

"And the drunken night spent on a beach in Mykonos and your amorous activities onboard a Eurail train and a whole bunch of other interesting pieces of gossip. I'm a good publicist and I've had my work cut out for me these past few months. It's a miracle I've kept things so quiet in the media with the time you two have been having."

"Thanks Wendy," Emma and I both said at once. 

"Goodnight you two."

Wendy hung up and Emma and I were both left staring at each other and thinking back on our time together and what other occasions we may have been sloppy. Emma angrily snatched up the iPad and sat down on a chair in the corner and began to furious type away on the screen.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Booking the first flight out of this fucking country," Emma said in an uncharacteristically angry tone.

***

ONE WEEK LATER

"I can't believe you wanted to come here," I said as I stared out the window with excitement. 

"What do you mean? You're the one who wanted to come here," Emma replied in a mildly curt tone.

"I didn't think you would agree."

"It's fine, I've already booked our flight out of here for tonight. We'll be gone before any of those arseholes know we're here. I just hope you're okay with only spending one day in Los Angeles."

I looked at the taxi driver in front of us before leaning to one side and whispering to Emma,

"I don't mind. Besides, that's plenty of time for sightseeing, shopping," I said before adding suggestively, "And other things."

Emma rolled her eyes while simultaneously smiling widely. She didn't reply but instead just looked at me with a hint of judgment and more than a hint of arousal. I stared right back and said: 

"What? I've been keen to fuck you on every continent."

Emma stifled a laugh and once more looked to see if the driver heard anything before replying, "We can discuss the logistics of that later, but in the meantime we'rehead to Rodeo Drive for a little shopping."

"Isn't that place really high class?"

Emma smiled, "Like I've said many times before Nate, I can-"

"You can afford it, I know," I said interrupting her.

Emma smiled before changing tone and saying, "By the way, I forgot to mention. I want to stop by Wendy's office later."

"She's in LA?"

"Yeah, she's a Hollywood publicist, she spends half her time here."

"She must be glad that whole topless photos thing blew over," I said.

"Not as glad as I am. I still can't believe we got away with it. I mean, I didn't think anyone could believe it was anyone other than me in those photos."

"Neither did TMZ. They were still running a "is it Emma Watson in those photos" poll as recently as yesterday," I said as Emma shook her head. I looked at her for a moment before adding, "I'll never make fun of your massive sunglasses again."

"Wendy said I should get them mounted and framed," Emma chuckled.

I chuckled before asking, "What time do we go see her?"

"Actually, I think I should go alone. I think Wendy might be more than a little bit annoyed with you. Something about you stealing her client's heart and being distraction to said client's career."

"Fair enough," I laughed. "You go see Wendy, I'll be out spending your money for you."

***

THREE DAYS LATER

LA was surprisingly uneventful. Fun, but uneventful. I got to see the one of the most famous cities in the world for the first time, Emma met up with Wendy and we both made use of Emma's credit card. Not to mention we didn't have one run-in with any paparazzi. We decided to stay in the States and currently found ourselves in Las Vegas, because, to quote Emma, "no one in Vegas so much as blinks at a deformed freak much less an actress who most of the internet didn't recognise when she had her tits out."

For the past two days, we've just been fine dining and gambling non-stop. And for the record, gambling with Emma is one hell of an experience. It was currently 2 am and we were stumbling through the door of our luxury suite at Caesars Palace 

"How much of my money did you lose?" Emma asked as she kicked the door shut while simultaneously refilling her champagne glass.

"We," I corrected her. "We lost a bit over $5,000."

"We? It was my money," Emma said in a vaguely drunken tone.

"And you were the one who decided to double down on that last hand and then lost."

"I felt lucky," she shrugged before saying excitedly. "Let's go to the Bellagio again tomorrow. Caesars has been nothing but bad luck."

"I say we head to the roulette tables and drop everything on red."

"Define everything. I have very deep pockets."

I stumbled towards the bedroom, suddenly becoming acutely aware that I was just as drunk as she was. 

"We should fuck," I blurted out.

Emma laughed. "How romantic."

"Is that a yes?" I asked without turning around.

The sound of the zipper on her dress being pulled down was all the answer I need. I smiled and walked into the bedroom. I sat down on the front of the bed and watched the door. Emma walked lightly across the carpet and entered the room wearing only her black bra and panties. I smiled as she walked over to me and stopped in front. I leaned forward and planted light kisses all along her belly while running my hands up and down her thighs. Every inch of her body felt so familiar by now. I knew ever curve, every detail and every imperfection of which there were very few. I'd touched those thighs many times, planted kisses on almost every area of her body. I knew her so well by now. I didn't think anything could ruin what we had; especially not 127 pieces of paper bound neatly together. 

"Give me one minute," Emma said before giving me a kiss.

The smell of the alcohol on her breath lingered for a moment as Emma skipped into adjoining bathroom. I began to take off my shirt and moved further up the bed when I felt something beneath the covers. I reached underneath only to pull out a movie script. The mere sight of it filled me with dread. I ran my hands over the title on the front page and asked out loud,

"What's 'Two of Us'?"

"Pardon?" Emma replied distantly.




Emma Ch. 03



"This is a script," I said.

Emma leaned out of the bathroom and saw me looking at the script before replying, with a tiny hint of anxiety in her voice,

"Yeah. My agent gave it to me."

"Did he send it by post?" I asked.

"No. I went and picked it up at his office in LA," she replied. My expression must not have looked good because Emma instantly asked, "Is that a problem?" 

"No, I'm just a bit confused. I thought you only went to see Wendy in LA. And last I checked she was your publicist," I said, before adding, "Also, I thought you weren't taking on any projects. Isn't that the whole point of this vacation?"

"Yeah, but my agent said the script was really good. I figured at the very least I could get some reading material."

"So you're not taking the part?"

"I haven't even read it yet."

"But if it's very good, would you take it?"

Emma stepped out of the bathroom and stood leaning against the wall. Her silence said it all. Perhaps it wouldn't happen immediately, but I knew then that my days of globetrotting with Emma Watson were numbered. She avoided my gaze as my mind wandered. If she goes back to her life, where does that leave me? Do I go back to Australia or do I follow her? A dozen different scenarios ran through my head; some of them included Emma, some didn't. Emma, as if sensing my concerns, said:

"Look, we both knew this wouldn't last. I wanted to run away for awhile, clear my head and have some fun, but I never intended to spend the rest of my life this way. I just got a little burnt out from the lifestyle but it doesn't mean I wanted to leave it forever. I still love what I do."

I was quiet. None of this was news to me, but it hurt nonetheless. For the first time since I'd met her, I couldn't look at Emma's face. Instead, I averted my eyes and said,

"I know, I just hoped we'd get more time together. I mean, I know it's been about 4 months, but it hasn't felt like it."

"Barely felt like 4 days," she said fondly before adding nervously, "You could come with me."

"And do what? Stay at home all day in London while you go off and shoot your films."

"Would that be so bad? Many people do it."

"I just don't want to be a layabout at 24 years old."

"I'm not asking you to be a layabout."

"But that's what I'd be if I was anywhere but Australia. And besides, I do love my life there. I needed a break from my boring, meandering life just as much as you needed a break from yours. But there were still a lot of good things I left behind. I have friends and family I haven't seen in months and I miss them."

"No more than I miss mine."

There was silence between us. We had gotten comfortable with silence during our time together. We had become that close and developed that intimate a relationship. But this was difference. Tension pervaded the air.

"This thing of ours; it's over isn't it?" I asked eventually with an air of resignation.

"Nate, I haven't even read this damn script much less taken the job. I'm still yours," she said unconvincingly.

"Why this script though? I know your agent said it was good, but hasn't he been saying that about every script?" I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else, as I began to flick through it.

Emma took a deep breath before replying, "This one is different. Spielberg is going to direct it."

I laughed in spite of the situation and said, "Oh fuck, you are so taking this role. I know how much you want to work with him."

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she replied reservedly. "Worst part is, it's such short notice. The film starts shooting soon."

I narrowed my eyes and asked, "How soon?"

"A little over two weeks," she said rather quietly.

"Fuck!" I said louder than I expected.

"The actress they originally cast in the role dropped out at the last minute. I just have to read for Spielberg and if he likes me, the job is mine."

"How could he not like you?" I muttered before asking, "Okay, maybe we're just blowing this out of proportion. How long would you be away if you did this?"

Emma thought about it for a moment before replying, "About five weeks."

"See, that's not too bad. You do this film and we pick up where we left off," I said optimistically.

"That's not the point Nate," Emma said quietly. "We can't keep doing this. I love you, but having sex, travelling the world and spending tens of thousands of pounds isn't exactly a good long term plan."

"So what do we do?"

Emma shrugged and walked over to the bed and sat down next to me. I only just realised then that she was still wearing only her bra and panties. While still very much affected by the champagne and without a great desire to continue talking about such grim topics, I leaned over and kissed her on the lips. It started out simply; just a small peck on the lips. But Emma continued to lean in and soon we were locked in a passionate kiss. A whole array of senses overwhelmed me from the taste of her lips, to the smell of her intoxicating perfume and even underlying sweat on her skin. Soon I felt her warm skin on the tips of my fingers followed by the touch of her bra. Fumbling blindly behind her, I felt her bra come loose and with a quick shrug of her shoulders, the straps fell to one side and I pulled the bra from her and threw it away.

As I looked at her naked breasts, I recalled the excitement from the time I had first seen her naked so long ago. I remember touching her body and repeating her name again and again in my head, as if to convince myself it was happening for real. Because even though I could feel her, touch her, smell her; being with Emma Watson had seemed like a scenario reserved only for my wildest fantasies. As I looked at her now, as I kissed her neck and cupped her firm, ample breasts; I was struck only by a feeling of familiarity. We'd had sex so many times in so many different places in so many different positions that I had forgotten about how absurd this situation was. For the first time in a long time, I sat there and reminded myself of who this woman was. She was Emma Watson, movie star, icon, millionaire and my girlfriend. I didn't deserve her. But the last thing I wanted was to lose her.

Without thinking, I lifted her body onto the middle of the bed and climbed on top of her. I think we both just wanted to delay our conversation. Our relationship had begun with sex; perhaps it was fitting that it would end with it as well. There was a different mood this time, as if we both knew that our time together was now limited. Emma lifted her legs up and slid off her panties as I took off my own clothes. I planted a long row of kisses from her lips, to her neck, down to her breasts, past her belly and squarely on her vagina. Emma watched me the whole time, with one hand on my head and another behind her own. As I moved back up, I placed a hand over her left breast and felt her heartbeat pulse beneath my hand. I looked up and down her body with lust and longing. 

I moved on top of her and soon felt her fingers wrap around my fully erect penis. It hovered there, mere inches above the opening of her vagina. For a change, Emma watched me all the way as she slowly guided me it to tight opening and all but begged me to push it inside of her. With one hand still on her breast and another holding her thigh, I entered her with one long fluid movement. Warmth engulfed my body as I remained imbedded inside of her for several long seconds. Our eyes were locked and as I pulled out of her before pushing back in, I watched her mouth open silently and her eyes cry out in pleasure. I began to settle into a slow rhythm and moved in and out of her at will. Emma kept her legs spread wide as she could and pulled me in close. I was determined to maintain a slow and steady pace as Emma began to moan quietly. I was soon moving in and out of her with ease as her vagina became soaking wet.

I held my body against hers, savouring the warmth from her skin and the feeling of her breasts pushed up against my chest. We continued to quietly fuck with only the sounds of my scrotum slapping against her vagina and her quiet moans filling the room. With my hand still on her chest, I could feel her heartbeat growing quicker and quicker. I continued to go slowly but slowly began to thrust inside of her with increasing force. At the height of each thrust, I held myself deep inside of before pulling out slowly. Emma began to softly cry out in pleasure right into my ear as she always did, breathing her hot breath into my ear. Soon she was begging me to go harder and faster. 

"Harder! Faster! Make me cum Nate!" she pleaded. 

I didn't disappoint and decided it was time for both of us to get out release. I braced myself against her body and began to vigorously assault her tight wet opening. Those first few thrusts caught her by surprise as she cried out loudly and gripped my body tightly against her own. She squirmed beneath my body as I felt myself build towards an orgasm. For a moment, I felt myself slip out of her. I looked down for a moment to see her vagina; soaking wet and twitching ever so slightly as she all but begged me to enter her again. I guided the tip of my penis into her tight little hole once more and almost at once, we both wrapped our arms around each other and prepared ourselves. With every long, hard thrust, I could feel myself ready to burst until finally, I felt myself squirting my semen deep inside of her. I grunted loudly and was ready to collapse on top of her. Unfortunately, she wasn't done yet.

Not wanting to disappoint the lady, I forced myself to continue to thrust in and out of her. I could feel her insides soaked with our respective juices and with every thrust, I could hear a soft squelching sound as it began to ooze out of her. I knew I couldn't last much longer as all my energy began to leave me at once. But as I placed my hands on her buttocks and pulled them apart and forced myself as deep inside of her as possible, I suddenly felt her body tense up as every muscle began to stiffen. I knew instantly what this meant, having witnessed it countless times before. First came the tensing up, then came the nails across my back, then the long cry of pleasure directly into my ear and then her legs wrapping tightly around my waist before finally a fresh wave of moisture came pouring out, mingling with my own semen before it gushed out of her. A cry of pure ecstasy continued to fill my ears until she was all spent. I was about to roll off of her body, but she immediately held me in place and gasped between deep breaths,

"No...don't move...just stay there...just stay there."

I did as I was told and just laid on top of her, her heart racing beneath me, her hot breath against in my ear and our collective juices oozing out of her. How many more times would we get to do this, I thought to myself. Could I possibly live without her after all we've been through? My penis remained relatively stiff inside of her for some time as we just lay there together; naked, sweating and our groins covered in cum. Emma remained still beneath me as I began to lazily kiss her on the lips. She responded weakly but still made the effort to slip her tongue into my mouth. We remained like this for sometime until I felt my penis finally become flaccid before finally rolling off her body. I moved my hand between her legs and touched her vagina with the tips of my fingers. She was still dripping wet. I became aware that she was looking at me. I returned her gaze and placed my hand on her face, just above her neck. Emma kissed it and didn't seem to care remotely that I had inadvertently smeared some of our juices onto her cheek. We both knew that our distraction was over. 

We lay together for sometime, just staring into each others eyes. Sex had always played such a crucial part of our relationship, but we knew it wasn't enough this time. We had to discuss the elephant in the room. We needed to continue our talk.

"I was always afraid the long distance would be what killed our relationship," I muttered.

Emma looked at me longingly before saying, "Even if I do take the job, it's not going to end immediately you know. We still have two weeks together."

"Two final weeks of travelling, shopping and fucking?"

"Maybe just the last one."

I chuckled and nodded in agreement before saying something neither of us really wanted to hear. "I think we both know you're going to take this job. You don't want to give up and opportunity to work with Steven Spielberg."

Emma didn't even try to deny it. Even if she did, I'd see right through her. We'd been together long enough for me to know these things about her. Despite all her misgivings and complaints about the celebrity life, she did love making movies. And Spielberg was one of those directors who she had always wanted to work with. Once I realised Emma wasn't going to say anything, I said,

"Okay, so you take this job, we spend our last two weeks together and then you go shoot your movie for five weeks and I go home to Australia visit family and friends. That much is obvious. But what happens after?"

"Well, since neither of us want to try long distance; one of us would have to move across the world to be with the other. Or if we can't do that, we have to break up."

I thought about this for a moment. Somehow, I didn't think Emma would move to Australia to live with me anytime soon. But would I move to England? I couldn't work as a lawyer anymore. At least not without some lengthy extra education which I wasn't too keen on. Or perhaps I could pursue a hobby in my free time. I always did like to write. The idea sounded absurd; me sitting in a house in London writing a crappy novel while waiting for my famous girlfriend to come home from whatever exciting place her career had taken her. But then again, the moment you count Emma Watson as your girlfriend is the moment where nothing ever really sounds absurd anymore. Was I really ready to put Emma before everything else in my life?

"What do you want?" I asked.

Emma avoided my gaze. "I want you by my side. We can't keep doing what we've been doing these past few months, as lovely as it's been, but I still want you in my life. But I know that's could be asking a lot, and I don't want to make the decision for you," she said, clearly choosing her words carefully. 

"I don't know what I'm going to do. 24 years old isn't exactly the ideal age in which to shirk all responsibilities, quit your job and start living off your girlfriend's money. But then again, if I went back to my life, I'd miss you too much. I'd probably end up calling you within a couple of days."

"When I finish the movie and you aren't there waiting for me, I'd probably call you first. I want to be able to pick up the phone and call you and know you're only a few minutes away instead of on the other side of the world," she said before frustratedly adding, "God, this would be so much easier if you just lived in Europe! Hell, even the States would be better. It's still long distance but at least it's manageable. But Australia! That's a 21 hour flight from London. You couldn't pick a worst place in which to have a long distance boyfriend."

I sighed and said, "Is it possible we're just making this out to be more complicated than it really is?" 

"I don't know, maybe," she shrugged. "But the fact is, we both love the comfort of home just as much as each other." 

She was frustrated, she was stressed and she was sad. I turned to Emma and touched her face again. With a finger on her chin, I tilted her head so I could look deep into her dark brown eyes as I said,

"So what do we do Miss Watson? What do we do?"

Our eyes were still locked as I asked the question. I had no answer. Neither did she. I love her and she loved me. Was it enough? 

***

EPILOGUE -- THREE MONTHS LATER

It is sometime in October, I'm not sure of the exact date. In my gut, I know I should be thousands of miles away in another country on another continent. Instead I'm right here standing by the window overlooking downtown as the sun sets below the skyscrapers. Had I made the right choice? It's a question I'd been asking myself many times since Emma finished shooting her movie. The eternal battle of heart versus head. In the end, I made my choice and it was the right one.

Suddenly my phone begins to vibrate on the desk. I slowly move towards it. I have about 90 contacts on my phone, but I only want one of them to be calling me. I pick it up and looked at the caller ID:

Emma.

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AFTERWORD

As I've stated previously, "Emma" was originally planned to be a standalone story and as such, I had no intention to write a sequel much less two. However, I changed my mind in large part as a result of all the wonderful words and the requests I've received. Also, given that all of my stories so far, including the non-celebrity ones, concerned the beginning of relationships, I felt it only right that I write a story about what happens next. And as you can see, what happened next is that Emma and Nate date for awhile before they, well, decide for yourselves. 

I may return to these characters one day, but for now, I'm all out of ideas. Hope you've enjoyed the stories. And as before, comments and votes are appreciated. 



Emma Ch. 04



Although Charlotte considered herself to be essentially a lesbian, this didn't mean that she didn't enjoy male company. Indeed, it flattered her when men showed interest in her. So it wasn't too surprising that after a little persuading from her colleague, Jonathan, Charlotte invited him to visit for dinner. Jonathan was quite a shy young man, who however thought he saw a kindred spirit in Charlotte who worked opposite him in the Approvals section of the department. 

Jonathan was quite prepared to see Emma naked when he arrived. And there, just as Charlotte had warned, was Emma seated in front of a television watching a video showing men making love to other men. Not his kind of film, but Jonathan had been warned of the nature of the research Emma was undertaking so he was less surprised than he might otherwise have been. Another girl was also watching television who Charlotte introduced as Harriett. Charlotte was herself rather surprised to find Harriett was also not wearing any clothes except for what was perhaps the bottom of a swimming costume. However, Charlotte made no comment as she usually wore less than that, but she nonetheless felt an acute pang of jealousy. 

Emma and Harriett were very civil to Jonathan and asked him questions about his work and what Charlotte was like to work with, while the hostess in the meantime was busy in the kitchen preparing a meal for the four of them. Jonathan occasionally popped into the kitchen to pass a few words with her. "Your friends seem very affectionate towards you," he commented. 

"Affectionate?" wondered Charlotte as she put the potatoes into the oven. 

"Well fond of you," he laughed. "Actually," he commented, "it is a bit disconcerting your friends not wearing clothes. I don't know where to look." 

"Just be discreet," advised Charlotte, wondering how disconcerted Jonathan would be in a normally naturist household. 

The meal was a success. Charlotte was delighted by the praise her cooking got from Emma and Harriet. "You ought to have friends round more often," smiled Emma holding Charlotte's hand tightly in hers. Charlotte felt a sudden flush of affection for Emma, but with Jonathan and Harriett there she couldn't kiss her as she wanted to, but she reciprocated Emma's squeeze and smiled back affectionately. 

"Don't worry about the washing up," volunteered Harriett when the last of the bottle of wine was drunk and the cheese board was bare. Charlotte smiled, and Jonathan regarded her longingly. Experience told Charlotte what the look meant, and she had no intention of disappointing him. Indeed, while Emma and Harriett settled in the kitchen to wash and dry up, Charlotte took Jonathan to her room to consummate the evening.

Knowing how shy Jonathan was, and in any case itching from the unaccustomed feel of clothes in the flat (which was always kept warm for Emma's benefit), Charlotte took the incentive in taking off her clothes. It took little more persuasion for Jonathan to undress and for her to take his throbbing member into her palm to hasten the process. His penis trembled excitedly in her hand, but she didn't want it spurting wasted all over the carpet. She took her hand away from there, and massaged and pecked Jonathan about the face, chest and upper thighs. It took all Charlotte's skill to delay the time when the two fell onto the bed and for Jonathan to hump away on top of her. 

Charlotte always found sex with men slightly amusing - she could never find it disgusting as she was sure lesbians should do. And she also found it very exciting. As Emma had often commented, when Charlotte got very excited she got carried away and would soon be screaming with ecstasy. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was Jonathan or perhaps it was the warm feeling of affection that she'd got from Emma, but she felt exceptionally passionate today. As she screamed out while Jonathan hammered away, his tongue in her ear and Charlotte's legs wrapped around his waist, she knew that it might disturb the neighbours let alone be audible to Emma and Harriett, but she didn't care. 

After an hour or so, Charlotte was quite exhausted, so she wandered naked out of her bedroom to the kitchen to get some beers out of the refrigerator. Both of them were now very hot and sticky - rivulets of perspiration running down their faces and shining on their bellies. Emma was already in the kitchen making some sandwiches for the following day. Charlotte was a little embarrassed to encounter Emma with the smell of sex emanating so strongly from her. The hairs of her vagina were a soggy mess and she felt a drip of semen flow slowly out from her vagina and down the inside of her thigh. Unthinkingly, she glanced down at it and when she looked up she could see that Emma's eyes had also been drawn there. 

"I can see you and your friend are having a very pleasant time," remarked Emma kindly. "He is staying the night isn't he?" 

"Well, if he wants to," Charlotte replied. Emma smiled and leant over slightly to kiss Emma on the face. Charlotte responded by grabbing Emma around the shoulders and showering kisses on her face and squeezing her against her sweaty front. Emma gently pushed Charlotte off. 

"Don't be silly, Charlotte," she admonished. 

Charlotte felt even more aroused after her encounter with Emma and in the ensuing lovemaking with Jonathan it was Emma who was foremost in Charlotte's thoughts as Jonathan thrust away. Charlotte forced Jonathan to enter her from other positions - including from behind (but not, despite Jonathan's entreaties, into the anus). Charlotte's screams and cries echoed into the night and soon there was no more to do than lie back and recover. Charlotte's crotch ached from the battering it had taken but it was a pleasant ache that reminded her of all her recent pleasure. She studied Jonathan's shrivelled penis which was still moist and shiny if no longer so very appealing. Charlotte tenderly kissed it and stroked Jonathan's testicles, but carefully so as not to wake him up. He was a nice boy, Charlotte felt, but her first love was always Emma. Just the thought of her hug with Emma filled Charlotte with enormous desire. 

This aching passion for Emma compelled Charlotte to push open the door leading to Emma's room. She often did this to relish Emma sleeping peacefully in her bed. Sometimes, Charlotte would sit for hours by Emma as she slept just to feel the pleasure of her closeness and the sound of her breath. She loved the cherubic expression on Emma's face as she breathed. She loved the opportunity to study what she could see of Emma's naked body, without being accused of voyeurism. The wonderful breasts, that slender waist, the hair that fanned out over the sheets and tangled in her nipple. 

Emma wasn't in bed, nor did it look like the sheets were disturbed. A little alarmed, Charlotte wandered through Emma's bedroom and then around the living room and kitchen. No sign of her there. But she could hear a little giggle. Charlotte started. Nothing! And then again, just a little louder followed by a tiny shriek. It was coming from Harriett's bedroom. 

Harriett often had lovers staying the night, so this wasn't unusual - but with Emma not in her bed, Charlotte feared the worst as she softly pushed open Harriett's bedroom door. The walls of Harriett's room were covered with posters of sporting heroes and heroines, and it was these that Charlotte first saw as her eyes became accustomed to the light shining in from the street lamp through the window. Then, as she feared, she saw Emma and Harriett together in bed kissing and cuddling each other. No! Charlotte corrected herself. It was Harriett spreadeagled, arse towards the door with Emma underneath busily tonguing her vagina. Charlotte gasped. 

Emma looked up, startled. "Oh, it's you!" she said, sounding not too pleased. "What do you want?" 

"I... I... just wondered why you weren't in your bed." 

"Who could possibly sleep with you and Jonathan making so much noise in the room next door?"

"But... but..." Charlotte gasped, the few remaining tatters of her dream that Emma was in truth reserved for her flying and scattering as Harriett and Emma readjusted themselves to face her, both naked, both sweaty, both with the hair on the head and below bedraggled and ragged, neither looking too amused. 

"Charlotte," said Harriett reasonably. "What Emma and I do is not your business - and besides you're clearly having quite a fun time with your boyfriend." 

"It's not the... not the same," Charlotte stuttered on the edge of tears. 

"It is," Harriett insisted. 

"No, it isn't," contradicted Emma. "You're having sex with a boy. I'm merely being affectionate with a friend. You have nothing to be jealous about. So go to bed." 

Charlotte sighed. She wouldn't be able to resolve this by crying. She smiled sadly and defeated as she eased Harriett's door shut. 

"Good night," called one of Harriett or Emma as she left. 

"Good night," mumbled Charlotte as she returned to her bed which, with Jonathan in it, seemed too crowded and even uninviting now.



Emma Ch. 05



V

After Charlotte's discovery of the two girls together, Harriett and Emma no longer made even the slightest pretence that there was nothing between them. Charlotte became accustomed to finding the couple entwined around each other in the living room and elsewhere, and her sense of betrayal and frustration gradually receded in the face of a fact that couldn't now be changed. Charlotte tried to look away from their activities, but her eyes still strayed towards them, although there was nothing too overtly sexual in their behaviour. As long as they just cuddle, Charlotte said to herself, I can still dream. She gazed longingly at Emma, but she felt constrained from even kissing or hugging her. Contrarily, Emma was much more affectionate towards Charlotte - stroking her hair, kissing her cheeks, patting her buttocks - but never in a way that could be construed as a sexual invitation. 

Emma was concerned that Harriett shouldn't lose sight of the original intention of their intimacy. "Perhaps now," she suggested, "we've practised enough and we should find out how you actually would perform in front of the camera." 

"But how would we do that?" wondered Harriett from between Emma's legs, a few loose hairs in her teeth. 

"I've got a video recorder and we can ask Charlotte to film us," suggested Emma matter-of-factly. And indeed that's what they did next time they saw Charlotte just as she was returning from work. She was just pulling off her knickers - always the last item she took off as to her it marked the moment she progressed from merely undressed to nude. It was not a welcome suggestion, but there was probably no favour that Emma could ask that Charlotte wouldn't perform. Even scorned in love, Charlotte reasoned, she could show how pure and unselfish her love was. She still hoped that Harriett was merely a phase in Emma's love life and that soon her true love would return to her, an altogether better candidate. 

"I've never used one before," Charlotte answered, hoping this could be the excuse to avoid the humiliation of filming the woman she loved making love to another woman. "And certainly not for something like that." 

"Don't be silly," said Harriett. "There's nothing to it. It's auto-focus. All you've got to do is point it in the right direction and make sure it's rolling." 

"Isn't there some art to it?" wondered Charlotte. "The right angles and so on." 

"We're not asking you to make an art film," Emma laughed. "We just want to see what Harriett's like, so that when she makes love with a woman professionally it all goes well. No one's going to watch it except Harriett and me." 

"And anyway if you think the cameramen at work are making art, you're sadly mistaken," laughed Harriett. "All they do is what we're asking you to do. Just film us making love and point the camera at the interesting bits." 

"The interesting bits?" 

"Don't be so naïve!" Emma exclaimed amusedly, leaning over and kissing Charlotte on the mouth. "I'm sure you'll have no difficulty in working out which they are." 

Emma and Harriett spent about an hour together in the bathroom to prepare for the filming, mostly soaping themselves in the shower and ensuring that their bodies were clean and their pubic hairs shining. Emma was fascinated to find that even Harriett, with her athletic slim body felt she needed more than just soap to look her best as she adorned make-up over her nipples and around her crotch. "It actually looks more natural on a video," she explained, but Emma wasn't persuaded. Her principles of naturism were too strict to permit using such artifice. She did consent however to Harriett sucking and pulling on her nipples to ensure that they were quite erect to start with. 

Charlotte practised , in the meantime, by filming around the living room and then playing the results back on the video player. It was very easy: technology had certainly come a long way. You just pointed the video recorder at something - say a chair - and it remained in focus as you moved towards it or away from it. Even in darkened parts of the room the recorder automatically widened its aperture to ensure that enough light entered the lens. 

"Are you ready?" wondered Emma coming out of the bathroom with a blow-dried crotch and a radiant expression. Charlotte couldn't help noticing how very stiff Emma's nipples were: they were normally pert but not that pert. 

Harriett suggested her own bedroom because her bed was the widest and there was better lighting. "And that's where I'm most relaxed anyway," Emma laughed. Charlotte was not amused. 

At first the exercise was very clumsy. It was very difficult for Emma to proceed knowing that Charlotte was filming her every move. She kept catching glimpses of the video recorder as it panned around her crotch and her breasts. Charlotte herself was thinking more of her own humiliation in filming the woman she loved doing the things she wanted to do, and finding it difficult to keep her mind on the object of the exercise. However, the more experienced Harriett took everything in command. She kept half an eye on the camera and Charlotte and occasionally made signs to Charlotte as to where to point the camera. Emma appreciated how Harriett also took command of her love-making. Emma admired Harriett's professionalism as she guided Emma's mouth down to her vagina while stroking Emma's back and gesturing Charlotte to film Emma's frantic tongue. The skill was not only that of being able to make love unselfconsciously in front of other people, but of also maximising the activities for their erotic televisual potential. 

Charlotte was able to think as she filmed that perhaps this was not really Emma she was filming, but just a sex star on the sex videos Emma was bringing into the flat. Was it real sex? she wondered. She'd sometimes wondered that when watching these videos. However, as Emma relaxed more and became more excited by the eroticism of the occasion, it became evident to Charlotte that this was real sex. Emma emitted gasps and grunts that increased in frequency and were reciprocated by Harriett. "Oh God! Oh God!" she yelled from a sudden orgasmic shudder. Charlotte was taken aback, but she was herself aroused by Emma's arousal. Her thoughts focused on Emma and almost forgot that it was Harriett who was orchestrating the pleasure and whose tongue and teeth were working around Emma's vagina. 

Almost unconsciously, while holding the video camera in her right hand her left hand wandered down to her own clitoris which she stroked to the same rhythm of Emma's orgasmic shudders. She found that her own vagina was moist. Oh! if only it was me that was giving Emma this pleasure she sighed. 

All too soon for Emma whose body glistened with perspiration, they were finished, and the lovers lay on their backs in exhaustion. Charlotte was still filming, but on Harriett's prompting she had receded so that she could film the two girls together. 

"I wonder what it looks like," wondered Harriett signalling that Charlotte should now stop filming. As the company soon found out, it didn't have the gloss or sparkle associated with most television sex, and the video was peculiarly story-less, being just Harriett and Emma groping together. It was almost an emetic experience for Charlotte to see the two girls together again just as she had seen them earlier through the camera lens. 

"What do you think of our performance?" Emma asked Charlotte kindly as the action showed Emma's finger working in and out of Harriet's anus. 

"I don't think I know what to say," said Charlotte truthfully. 

"I still need practice," Harriett stated forcefully. "There's quite a few things I'm just not happy about. Not," she added, smiling at Emma, "in terms of your performance, but my own. I think we'll have to repeat the exercise again." 

Charlotte sighed inaudibly. She knew what Harriett's statement meant for her. However, she watched the rest of the video with the two lovers. After a while both Emma and Harriett were stroking and rubbing their vaginas - and remembering her own excitement while filming Charlotte did the same thing. But she wasn't arousing herself at all. She was wondering if she could bear to stay and watch the rest of the video, when she heard a sharp gasp. 

Was it that part of the video already? wondered Charlotte watching again as Harriett's mouth worked around Emma's breasts which was held up in offering. No, it wasn't - she was sure - the video hadn't even got to the bit when Harriett had put almost all of her tongue into Emma's vagina. She turned her head to look at Emma and Harriett, and saw that they had started making love to each other again. 

Charlotte was then in a dilemma, which she could not reconcile. For the rest of the space of the video she had the choice of watching Emma and Harriett making love in the flesh or review them again on video. Eventually, she decided that the only thing she could was leave. She went to her own bedroom and slumped on her bed. Away from Emma and Harriett she was now able to imagine herself making love to Emma and that she was the recipient of Emma's affection. And in this way she furiously masturbated herself and was eventually sufficiently exhausted to get to sleep and not reflect too much on her loss. 

Although Emma was becoming quite expert in making love, she could almost be considered to be a virgin - she had only once ever had full penetration sex and that was not a particularly enjoyable experience. In fact it had so upset Emma that she had lost interest in making love altogether: but as a result of her experiments with Harriett she felt sure that the time had come when she could lose her virginity in a more meaningful way. 

Charlotte really didn't see this as a shortcoming in Emma's sex life, indeed she had become rather used to seeing all the variations of it either through the camera lens or otherwise. Indeed, Emma and Harriett seemed to be making love all the time now. Whereas the two girls had previously been a little discreet, they now showed no compunction in cunnilingus or mutual masturbation or other such sexual activities when Charlotte was around. And Harriett continued to insist that Charlotte film the two girls together: an activity which was getting more polished. The videos Charlotte was filming now were still technically poor and had no story content, but Emma had lost her initial shyness and had learnt techniques from Harriett which made her performance much more interesting to watch. Charlotte concentrated more on the technical aspects of filming, and Harriett no longer needed to indicate what views to take. 

Charlotte was in fact watching one of these videos when Emma mentioned her desire to lose her virginity. Emma and Harriett were still glistening with sweat after the sex in which they had just been indulging and a very strong post-orgasmic smell emanated from them. "But it's got to be done properly..." she announced. 

"Do you mean," wondered Charlotte, "that you want it filmed?" 

"What an interesting idea," commented Harriett. 

"No," decided Emma. "I just mean it's got to be right. You know, it's an important thing and I want it to be something I'll remember with joy." 

Charlotte's own first experience with sex hadn't really been that satisfactory either, so she appreciated what Emma was saying. But then, when you're a teenager, boys do tend to be unsubtle and clumsy. "What do you mean properly?. Do you mean we invite a boy round to fuck you?" 

"God no!" said Emma with horror. "I could only do it with Harriett." Charlotte inwardly sighed. "No. I mean Harriett would have to wear one of those artificial penises, - dildos. I'm sure it'd be fine that way. I don't want to be impregnated by some disgusting man. And anyway the mere thought of a man sticking his thing in me is enough to make me feel unwell." 

"But why tell me?" wondered Charlotte, who often wished that Emma wasn't so open about her sexual relationship. Naturism at home was one thing, she reasoned although there was always some sexual teasing in that. But watching the two girls having sex together day and night was entirely different. Charlotte was very nostalgic for the earlier days when only she and Emma wore no clothes. 

"Because, sweetest," said Emma with a very warm smile, "whatever Harriett is, you are my best friend. I need you to be there. It's very important to me." She pulled Charlotte's warm naked body to her own still slightly damp one and hugged her more tightly than she had ever done before. She showered kisses all over Charlotte's face. "Please say you will," she pleaded. 

Charlotte was taken aback by the affection. "But what am I to do?" she gasped, hoping perhaps that she might still have a sexual role to play. But no, all Emma wanted her to do was to hold her hand. 

Emma and Harriett arranged the day on which Emma would lose her virginity with some care. Harriett went out to choose a dildo with Charlotte from a shop that sold such things. Charlotte felt uneasy with Harriett these days, but Harriett was very good at reassuring her. She explained how much she treasured her relationship with Emma and how grateful she was for her affection. "She loves you too," she confided to Charlotte, "but she cherishes her friendship with you too much." 

Harriett seemed like a different woman to Charlotte when she was not at home and undressed. She wore shorts and sweater just as she used to: looking much more like a sportswoman than a television sex performer. Charlotte now knew all about Harriett's body and envied her for its athletic trim. The two girls studied the different dildos in the shop. There seemed to be a much wider selection of dimensions and designs than Charlotte had ever expected. 

"I imagine Emma will want one that looks as natural as possible," commented Harriett picking one up and holding it to Charlotte's face. "This is about standard size, isn't it?" 

It was actually significantly larger than the penises Charlotte generally saw, but she was aware that Harriett would always be meeting better endowed men in her trade than would the average woman. Harriett eased down her shorts and strapped the dildo on over her knickers. "What do you think?" she wondered, spinning round with the dildo looking almost like the real thing. 

"I'm sure it'll do the job," commented Charlotte, and indeed it was the one chosen. 

The day came and the three girls arranged themselves in Emma's room (which was not the usual place for making love). Emma lay on her back and supported her head and shoulders in Charlotte's lap. Charlotte supported her shoulders and felt a warm sexual tingle as she felt Emma's naked skin on her crotch and thighs. Oh! if only it was me and not Harriett, she said to herself, as Harriett, dildo strapped around her otherwise naked body, lubricated Emma's vagina with her tongue and fingers. 

Harriett spent what seemed to Charlotte from her experience of men an unusually long time stimulating Emma, occasionally stopping to look up at Emma to gauge her expression. Emma looked lovingly down at Harriett and sometimes gazed up at Charlotte. Charlotte could see that Emma was a little nervous so she gave as reassuring a smile as she could. 

Eventually, Harriett assessed that Emma was ready. She seemed more than ready to Charlotte who felt the shuddering in Emma's shoulders and the whiplash of her hair as it was thrown about in ecstasy. Harriett eased the dildo into Emma's cunt and the reaction was almost immediate. "Ohhh! Godd! Go-o-oddd! Uuooaahh!" cried out Emma, shaking herself ecstatically. She grasped Charlotte's hand and squeezed it as if her life depended on it while gasping out. Then she screamed out in an aural ejaculation that frightened Charlotte. 

Emma held tightly onto Harriett who rhythmically and rather slowly thrust her crotch back and forth. Charlotte eased herself back as she was worried about getting hit by Emma's frantically energetic body. She watched as the two girls rolled around as close together as they could joined by a phallic length of plastic. She noticed that Harriett gradually sped up the thrusting, and Emma's response became faster and more urgent. She's playing Emma's body like a musical instrument, thought Charlotte. And then she thought that Harriett was doing very well considering, as she had told her when they were choosing the dildo, that this was the first time for her as well in this role. 

Eventually, and not a moment too soon for Charlotte who was frankly rather bored, the two girls finished and Harriett eased the dildo out from Emma's vagina. 

"You're not a virgin anymore," commented Charlotte dryly. 

Emma gazed at Charlotte through the damp hair plastered to her sweaty forehead. Hers was the sweetest face Charlotte had ever seen, and quite suddenly Charlotte's heart broke. She burst into silent tears in the aura of Emma's post-orgasmic ecstasy and satisfaction. Emma smiled and let Charlotte take her body and stroke it with a freedom that had never been allowed before. She even managed to stroke Emma's pubic hairs, but Emma guarded her clitoris from her attention. Harriett also lay back exhausted. It was difficult for Charlotte to assess what Harriett's pleasure had been, but there was a smile on her face. 

"You were wonderful!" suddenly exclaimed Emma falling on top of Harriett and kissing her again. She wept from passionate love for Harriett. Charlotte felt very embarrassed, but it didn't surprise her at all when Emma and Harriett recommenced their love-making. Charlotte silently detached herself from their company and settled in her bed where she tried to sleep as best she could with the thumping and screaming emanating all night from Emma's bed. 

Charlotte was quite pleased when Emma told her that she and Harriett were entertaining a friend for a meal, even though it would mean that true to her natural modesty she would wear clothes that evening. (Not a concession that would ever occur to Emma). The main source of pleasure was that perhaps for one night Charlotte wouldn't be confronted by the naked bodies of her flatmates writhing about the living-room floor. This pleasure, however, was replaced by some apprehension when Harriett explained that the young lady, Josephine, was actually the woman who had been successfully auditioned for the role of making love to Harriett on television, but a little relieved when Harriett explained that she'd never made love to a woman before either. 

Her apprehension seemed totally unfounded when Josephine arrived. She was a tall quite slender woman in a quite constricting white dress and had her long hair tied up and off her face. Her face was pale and she had blue cheeks underneath slightly startled eyes. When she smiled she emanated an air of sweet innocence which seemed almost inappropriate for someone in her industry, but as she explained it was a thespian rather than a pornographic career that she really aspired to. 

The four girls sat round the table for a meal cooked jointly by Emma and Harriett and listened as Josephine discussed her stage performances in repertory and about the difficulties of finding work for an actress even in the big city. Unusually, everyone but Emma was dressed and looking, Charlotte thought, just like most groups of girls gathered for a meal together should look. Indeed, Charlotte found the thought of Emma wearing clothes as so alien that her nudity seemed far more natural than it might otherwise be. 

After the meal, Emma and Charlotte retreated into the kitchen to wash up the dishes and Harriett remained with Josephine. Harriett was explaining to Josephine how she and Emma had practised making love together and how, to improve their technique, they had encouraged Charlotte to film them together. The conversation was of such a matter-of-fact tone that Charlotte wasn't in the slightest bit alarmed. And anyway she had news that she had been dying all day to impart to Emma and now was the ideal time. 




Emma Ch. 05



"I've got the transfer I've been applying for," she announced to Emma. 

"Oh how wonderful!" said Emma giving Charlotte a kiss while wiping the inside of a glass with the tea-towel. "Where to?" 

"To this naturist branch in the Civil Service," Charlotte announced, her sleeves rolled up and soap-suds to her wrists. 

"'Naturist' branch?" wondered Emma who'd never heard of such a thing before. 

"Yes," smiled Charlotte triumphantly, "Some branches - especially unpopular ones like tax, social security and so on - attract staff by having a naturist policy. That means that staff have the freedom to wear as few clothes as possible while at work. So now I can work in as few clothes as I wear at home!" 

"That's absolutely marvellous!" exclaimed Emma grabbing Charlotte round the waist and showering her face with kisses. "Absolutely wonderful! I'm so happy for you." 

Charlotte was delighted with Emma's response. She had been trying for so long to get this transfer as she had felt so inferior compared to Emma who could wear nothing at work all day and nobody would think it the oddest thing at all, while she had to wear smart clothe. Now, she felt, she could be a real naturist and, perhaps, get the respect from Emma that she felt was lacking. 

When Charlotte and Emma came back into the living room, laughing and giggling, they found Josephine and Harriett sitting in front of the video watching one of the videos Charlotte had filmed of Harriett and Emma making love. Harriett was explaining in technical terms some of the sexual techniques involved in the performance. To Charlotte's ears, it sounded more like someone explaining golfing techniques rather than how to make love. Alarmingly for Charlotte, she found that both Harriett and Josephine were wearing just underwear, which in Josephine's case meant a white silk slip and knickers and in Harriett's case nothing but black knickers. Not quite nudity, thought Charlotte. 

All that was to change however, as Harriett explained to Emma that Josephine had watched the videos that Charlotte had filmed and had felt very nervous about her own lack of sexual experience with other women. Consequently, they had agreed that it was better for her to practice with Emma and Harriett. They had been waiting for Emma to return from the kitchen to ask her if she wouldn't mind participating in some instruction. 

At first Emma seemed hesitant, but she looked at Josephine's rather shy face and the slender body underneath the slip and relented. "We'd better take all our clothes off then" she announced. 

At this prompting Harriett pulled her knickers down to reveal her little triangular bush of hair, and, somewhat less enthusiastically, Josephine removed her slip to reveal smallish round breasts with pert pink nipples and a very tidy patch of pubic hair. She looked at Charlotte pleadingly. "Are you joining in?" she asked. 

"Charlotte doesn't do this sort of thing!" announced Emma, which to Charlotte's ears sounded very presumptuous, but she didn't feel like arguing at this juncture. Indeed what she did do, as the girls settled down in a cross-legged triangle on the well-worn rug in front of the gas fire, was discreetly retreat to her room without another word.

As soon as her door was shut, Charlotte pulled off her clothes. "That's the last time I'll ever wear clothes!" she announced to herself with a kind of determination, knowing full well that it was unlikely that she'd ever be able to stay true to her own word. She examined her naked reflection in the mirror. What was wrong with her? she wondered. She was sure she wasn't unattractive. She was of a less slender frame than Emma and a less athletic trim than Harriett, but she had an attractive body nonetheless. She slowly masturbated herself trying to excite herself with thoughts of making love, but she somehow couldn't get any excitement. 

"What the hell!" she announced loudly, standing up and walking out of her room still naked. Perhaps with Josephine there she would have that opportunity to show her sexual self that had been so much denied, she thought. She pushed open the door to the living-room as quietly as she could. What she saw was a writhing mass of three bodies all intent on stimulating each others' bodies. Only the odd glimpse of a face and Charlotte's familiarity with Emma's and Harriett's bodies could distinguish one body from another. She stood by the door for several minutes feeling like a trespasser in her own house in the midst of the gasps and pants of sexual excitement. 

Josephine was clearly not as experienced in lesbian love as the other two girls, but that, if anything, only made her the more attractive in Charlotte's eyes. Indeed, Charlotte was beginning to feel that same melting-away feeling she very often felt in Emma's company. As she watched Josephine, she caught a glimpse of her espying her and for a moment she froze, enduring her gaze. She flushed, feeling suddenly embarrassed for being there naked, neither joining in nor being apart but being merely a voyeuse. 

And then she ran off to her bedroom and, although it was earlier than her usual bed-time, she went straight to bed. She was able to masturbate now, and she did so furiously until she went to sleep, but the image uppermost in her mind was the vision of Emma and Josephine locked in passionate embrace.



Emma Ch. 06



VI

Charlotte was very anxious on the first day of her new job: not just because of the anxiety of working with new people and finding new routines, but also just the concept of working all day with no clothes. She had of course been shown round the offices before today and knew what to expect. It was nonsense to say that nudity was compulsory. Not everyone working in the branch were naturists, although they had to be sympathetic, and even those who took off their clothes didn't necessarily take them all off. Despite this, it took little time for the oddness to wear off of being in a government office surrounded by computer terminals and paper files with naked people. Her new supervisor made no mention of clothing policy and only discussed the duties Charlotte would be performing. He was however totally naked except for a pen dangling over his chest. Undoubtedly the work was going to be more tedious than that which Charlotte had been doing previously, but this was the penalty that Charlotte had expected to pay for the privilege of being a naturist at work. 

One of Charlotte's main anxieties was quite simply what clothes to wear on the way to the office. She spent ages the night before trying on all combinations of overcoat and jacket. She eventually decided to wear only a pair of black swimming trucks and a short jacket, but when the morning came and she prepared herself she actually found herself putting on exactly what she would normally have worn. As she was just about to leave, she thought better of it, but only to remove her knickers and bra. "I won't need these," she said to herself slyly as she felt the dress against her bare skin. 

She gingerly knocked on Harriett's door to say goodbye to Emma, who had insisted she do this so that she could wish Charlotte good luck. There was no response, so Charlotte eased open the door to see Emma in bed with Harriett and also the tanned naked body of a third girl who was in the bed with them. This had been another in the series of girls Harriett had started inviting back to practice making love with. The night before, Emma confided to Charlotte that she'd found Molly a little common for her tastes, but refreshingly open. She'd not hesitated in getting down to some serious love-making with Emma and Harriett: the artificial tan of her body and bleach-blonde hair standing out in contrast to Charlotte's flatmates' more natural skin colour. 

It took Charlotte a few moments to be sure, but Molly was active in eating Harriett's vagina with Emma beneath exploring Molly's raised vagina with her tongue and fingers. Emma looked up from what she was doing, her vulva pointing directly towards Charlotte. "Are you off now?" she asked Charlotte softly. 

Charlotte nodded and made to leave through the door. "Don't leave so fast!" cried Emma who pulled herself up from under Molly who was too engrossed to disengage herself and ran up to Charlotte. She gave Charlotte a hug and a kiss. "I hope your day goes well!" 

Charlotte's journey was by underground train, and she felt nervous that somehow people could see that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Other people probably didn't care, and indeed one girl, probably a secretary, was quite clearly showing a bare nipple though her very low-cut dress. This didn't prevent her from feeling self-conscious. Indeed, she was pleased when she could get out of the train and walk the hundred yards through the rain and puddles to the office. She stood at the escalator doors after showing her pass to the doorman, wondering when it would be appropriate for her to take off her clothes. When the lift arrived, no one was unclothed there, so she stayed fully clothed until she reached the 6th floor and went into the reception area. 

"Hello, what do you want?" asked a girl at the reception desk who was wearing no clothes at all that Charlotte could see besides the petite glasses on her nose. 

"I'm Charlotte. It's my first day here." 

"Charlotte," sniffed the receptionist looking at a list which she held up in front of her pert breasts whose nipples stood out. "The new girl. Another naturist, I suppose?" 

Charlotte nodded. Although the receptionist was unclothed she didn't appear very sympathetic to naturism. 

"You'll be wanting to know where to leave your clothes then," the receptionist continued. She stood up and Charlotte could see that she in fact was not totally naked but wore some very brief shorts and knee-high boots. She was taken to a room marked Privatewhere there were coats on hooks and some lockers. "This is your locker," the receptionist said pointing at one which was open. "You'll have to provide your own padlock I'm afraid. And you must wear clothes if you leave the premises." 

Charlotte felt hopeless as she stood in front of the locker. "Don't you want to take your clothes off, then?" wondered the receptionist. Charlotte smiled pleadingly, but received no sympathetic gesture. A little embarrassed, Charlotte removed her jacket and pulled off the dress to reveal the naked body underneath. The receptionist sniffed again, but made no comment. 

"Right, I'll take you to Bernard who'll show you your desk," said the receptionist referring to the supervisor Charlotte had met before. 

The rest of the day was spent meeting other members of staff and learning about her duties. Most of the staff were men and almost all of these were nudists. The main embarrassment Charlotte felt as she met all these new men was of avoiding eye-contact with their penises. She studiously looked up at their faces and reminded herself that as a lesbian men should be the same to her clothed or unclothed. 

There were three other women besides Charlotte based at the office. There was Peggy, the receptionist, who was adamant that she wasn't a naturist but was nonetheless usually topless and, Charlotte was told, would frequently wear nothing at all in warm weather. There was Mildred, a late middle-aged women who had the cracked skin of years of sunbathing and droopy breasts that flopped over her tight, lined, brown belly. There was one woman about Charlotte's age, Clarissa, who was plump with a proud round pair of breasts crowned with nipples the size of Charlotte's fist. 

Charlotte's desk faced towards a male colleague, Desmond, who although a committed naturist almost always wore an open shirt so that he could have access to a pen at all times. He was also rather shy and had great difficulty at looking at Charlotte's face, let alone anywhere else on her body. She looked out on to the street and was pleased to see that there were no vantage points where anyone could spy on the office. Charlotte had no intention of being the subject of anyone's voyeurism. 

Bernard spelt out the rules pertaining to dress at the office which was to wear clothes outside of the office and to respect the views of any member of the public who didn't actively express a willingness to be interviewed by a naked Civil Servant. A white overcoat of standard issue was provided in all interview rooms so that staff could be dressed in these circumstances, but as Bernard assured her, very few people would be coming to this branch without expecting to meet some naturist staff.

When 5 o'clock came, Charlotte joined the others by their lockers as they got dressed to go home. Bernard stayed at his desk, as did Desmond who Charlotte later discovered was very shy of being seen putting his clothes back on. Clarissa's locker was right next to Charlotte's and she smiled at Charlotte as she put on just a leather jacket over her otherwise naked body and pulled on some leather knee-high boots. "You going home by yourself, love?" she asked. 

"Yes," admitted Charlotte doing up her own jacket which more convincingly hid her smaller beasts than did Clarissa's from which her breasts were clearly trying to escape. 

"My boyfriend's picking me up," Clarissa said, "but perhaps another night we can go out for a drink after work." 

"That would be very nice," Charlotte admitted, who still felt very much a stranger amongst her colleagues. She was sure Clarissa wasn't a lesbian herself, but that was all for the best. It was Emma who she loved. Her day had been mostly desk-bound, though she knew that her job would soon involve meeting the public, of which all she'd seen all day were the people in the streets when she'd gone out for her lunch-break. She felt sure then, as she felt now, leaving the office, that everyone could see her nakedness under her clothes. 

There she goes, she imagined them thinking, when the lift stopped on her floor and she joined the other office staff and executives already in the lift. You can see she's got no clothes on underneath. She's a filthy nudist. She spends all day indulging in the perverse pleasure of nudity. And what's more she's a lesbian. She loves other women. She's a disgusting, perverted, naked dyke. 

And, Charlotte reminded herself with a wince, a lesbian who can't even have sex with the woman she loves above all else. A woman for whom she'd sacrifice everything. But a woman who nonetheless denies that she's at all gay while forever making love to Harriett. And not just Harriett, but any friend that Harriett brings home with her. Last night it was Molly. A girl who probably couldn't even spell her own name. Will it be Molly tonight? Or some other girl. 

Her bitter thoughts followed her, and distracted her from the self-consciousness of her hidden nakedness as she travelled home on the underground train, with bodies of men and women squeezed right up against her, supporting herself only by the strap. As she hurried up the stairs to the surface, she absentmindedly let her breasts fall out of her coat, but she hurriedly replaced them, sure that everyone had now decided that she was the worst kind of slut. 

It wasn't Molly that Emma was making love to when Charlotte came in. In fact, Emma and Harriett weren't making love at all, but seemed to just be talking to a girl that was with them. This girl was quite short - less than five feet high - and built on a corresponding slender model, with breasts barely showing as more than discoloured bumps on her breast. Her skin was very pale, and at first Charlotte was convinced that this girl was just a school-girl who Harriett had persuaded to strip off. In fact when the girl turned round and smiled at Charlotte with a sparkle of teeth and deep dark eyes, it was clear she was actually an oriental woman, probably in her mid-twenties. 

Emma jumped up and ran up to Charlotte. She grasped Charlotte round the shoulders before she had the chance to take her coat off. "How was your first day at work?" she asked. "It wasn't too frightful was it?" 

"No, no. It was alright. Perfectly alright." 

"They were kind to you, were they?" Emma wondered, a look of real concern as she noticed the bitterness that had set into Charlotte's face. 

"Oh yes, they were very nice. I'm just not, you know, just not used to being nude all day." 

"How peculiar," laughed Emma, who was rarely anything but. She showered Charlotte's face with dry little kisses. "Now can you be a darling and help us." 

"Of course," volunteered Charlotte with no idea what Emma, Harriett and the oriental girl wanted. 

"Meet Susan," said Emma, showing her guest. "She has a problem about making love." 

"Yes," explained Susan, who had a slightly foreign enunciation to her immaculate English. "All my life I only ever make love when I am being watched. That is why I work in sex television, because it is the only way I can have a happy love life. And I want to make love to both Emma and Harriett..." 

"...And both of us want to make love to her," agreed Emma squeezing Charlotte. "Don't we, Harriett?" 

Harriett was holding Susan's shoulders. She gently kissed Susan full on the mouth to signal assent. 

"So please, Charlotte," pleaded Emma, "Can you watch Susan with us? But don't touch." 

And so on Emma's first evening after a day at her new job was spent watching the three girls make love together. Emma seemed particularly enthusiastic. More enthusiastic in her passionate love with Susan than Emma had ever seen with Harriett. Her cries of passion were louder and fuller than she'd ever heard before. Is it Susan who makes her so passionate? wondered Charlotte. But she couldn't be sure as Harriett seemed to be giving her great pleasure too as she nibbled Emma's clitoris with her teeth, while Susan in turn squeezed her vagina tightly against her own. Or was it because I'm watching? Perhaps, Charlotte thought, my presence gives Emma just a bit more pleasure. Perhaps she gets sadistic pleasure out of my discomfort. Or maybe, and Charlotte was sure this was the real truth, she thinks I get pleasure from seeing her get pleasure. 

However, it was not Emma, but Susan who seemed most aware of Charlotte's presence. Frequently and from whatever absurd angle it was, with pubic hair in her mouth or a tongue in her ear or her fingers firmly up Emma's cunt or even when Harriett forced one of her dildos as far up Susan's anus as it could go, Susan's broad smile and sparkling gaze seemed directed not at her lovers but rather at Charlotte. In fact, Charlotte had never been looked at in such an unambiguously sexual way before. At one stage, Susan disengaged herself from her two lovers, who continued making love with each other regardless and suddenly squeezed Charlotte to her tiny breasts and kissed her passionately on the face, eyes and mouth. And then, just when Charlotte had become fully appreciative of this act of passion, she pushed herself back off to rejoin the love-making with what seemed re-invigorated passion and lust. 

The three girls made love for what seemed forever to Charlotte, who envied them all. Afterwards though, Susan's conversation was held not with Emma and Harriett, whom she'd enjoyed so passionately, but with Charlotte. She felt that Susan was blatantly flirting with her, particular as she so often held Charlotte's hands in her own little hands and traced her fingers gently over their back. In fact she barely seemed interested in Emma and Harriett now, who retreated after a while to watch some of the videos that Emma was still investigating for her television station. 

Charlotte soon became aware that Susan's flirting, although meant sincerely, was not meant as an invitation to sex, (which she discussed coolly and dispassionately), but as an expression of affection. As Susan left, putting on a very tight silver jump-suit, she gave Charlotte a long embrace, hugging her and kissing her on the cheeks. "I must see you again," Susan insisted.

"You must come and visit and watch me making love to my boyfriend. He is so passionate. And," she added, "we can only make love when we have visitors watching. Please say yes, so I can make love to him. He'll love it when such a beautiful girl as you is watching." 

Charlotte nodded, and said she would. But in truth, she felt very weary of all this second-hand love. When would someone make love to her? And would that person ever be Emma?



Emma Ch. 07



VII

"Are you doing anything this evening?" Clarissa asked Charlotte as the two colleagues prepared to return home after a full day at work. Clarissa was pulling on a dress which like all her clothes looked awkward over her full round breasts and buttocks. Charlotte, who had always had more of a sense of style still found it strange becoming accustomed to wearing less clothes than she did before. She buttoned up the black silk blouse which was all she was currently wearing. As it was a warm day, she also had a pair of loose shorts, which she found more comfortable when not wearing knickers. 

"No, I've got nothing planned," admitted Charlotte, who in fact rather dreaded going home. Who would Emma and Harriett be making love with tonight? she wondered. 

"In that case I'll take you to the Haworth," announced Clarissa. "It's a naturist wine bar near here. We can have a drink and a chat."

"Ooh, that'd be a nice idea," Charlotte admitted. It certainly meant she'd be absolved of acting as a voyeur this evening. "Does it cost anything to go in?" 

"Of course not," Clarissa assured her. "But you must take your clothes off." 

After working all day with no clothes, this seemed quite natural to Charlotte. In fact, the sight of a man or woman wearing clothes now seemed almost odd to her. Clarissa led Charlotte down a few quiet back streets in the town centre to a fairly anonymous street, near a delicatessen and a shop selling apparently nothing but lamp-shades where there was the sign, The Haworth, just above a staircase which led down below street level. Nothing of the wine bar was visible from the street, and in fact it didn't really seem very inviting. It certainly wasn't the sort of place where Charlotte would normally choose to go. 

Charlotte followed Clarissa down the steps, to a more inviting place than she'd expected. It was well-lit with subtly attractive decor and the people inside were indeed wearing no clothes. The large black gentleman at the door was also naked (or at least what was visible over the counter). "We'll have to leave our clothes here," Clarissa announced. The two girls undressed and handed their clothes to the gentleman. Charlotte was about to retrieve her handbag, but Clarissa signalled that it wasn't necessary: "You buy everything on tab here," she explained. 

There weren't that many people in the bar. There was a group of four men in the corner drinking beers and looking well at ease in their nudity. They glanced at Charlotte and Clarissa as they entered, but in a fairly neutral fashion. A man and woman were chatting in the corner and held their hands together over the table. They had eyes only for each other. Clarissa went to the bar to be greeted by a bar-girl wearing only a welcoming smile. 

"The same as always, Clarissa?" the bar-girl asked. 

"Yes, of course, Emily," Clarissa answered. "And what are you having, Charlotte?" 

"Oh, an orange juice I think," she answered. 

"Nothing stronger?" wondered Clarissa quizzically, but this was what Emily poured into a glass which shone an orange triangle onto her apple-shaped breasts. She then made a note on a piece of paper of the purchases. 

The girls chose a table which seemed unnecessarily hidden for such a relatively quiet place. While they chatted about work and colleagues, Charlotte gazed about the room examining the other customers as they entered. Clarissa did much the same, but in a decidedly predatory manner.

Charlotte was soon tempted to have a glass of wine, which seemed to go straight through her, so she soon had to go to the toilet. It was a very clean toilet, but nonetheless bizarre in that there were no doors in the cubicles. No need for modesty here, reflected Charlotte as she brushed through her long hair with her hands. 

When Charlotte got back, she found that they were no longer unaccompanied, as Clarissa was talking apparently animatedly with a young man who was seated on a stool by their table. "Oh hello, Charlotte," smiled Clarissa, as she sat down. "Meet ... um ..." 

"Edwin," announced the young man, smiling broadly at Charlotte. "I work in Electricity. Are you in the Civil Service as well?" Charlotte nodded. "In the same section?" She nodded again. "It must be wonderful not having to wear clothes all day. Electricity would never countenance it. But I guess, the Civil Service have got to provide some benefits to counter the lousy pay." 

Edwin sat with the two girls for the rest of the evening which seemed to go on interminably. Edwin ordered a bottle of wine, which the three shared between them, with Clarissa drinking the most. Gradually Clarissa became more intimate with Edwin, and it didn't surprise Charlotte too much to see her stroking Edwin's penis. "Don't do that!" he laughed, but he neither removed her hand nor resisted the swelling of his penis from the attention. The conversation however essentially more prosaic, and by concentrating on that, Charlotte just about succeeded in ignoring Clarissa's blatant teasing. 

It was gone eleven when Clarissa announced it was time to go home. "Do the both of you want to come back for some coffee?" she asked. Charlotte was feeling slightly tipsy, and assented as she thought a coffee might do her some good. Edwin didn't hesitate at all. 

Clarissa's flat was only five minutes walk from the bar. The three of them got dressed, and settled their bill with the black gentleman at reception. Edwin put on a business suit, which seemed very peculiar after having so long worn nothing over his bronzed naked body. Clarissa's flat was up a couple of flights of stairs, and had a no-clothes policy like the bar, as Clarissa announced pushing open her front door, The three of them removed their clothes again and left them in the hall-way, before entering the flat proper. 

Clarissa didn't live alone in the flat. Her boyfriend was sitting in front of the television and briefly greeted them as they entered. Charlotte sat in the living room while Edwin and Clarissa prepared the coffee. It seemed to take ages to arrive, and Clarissa's boyfriend seemed far more interested in the television than on chat. 

It was the city's only naturist station, Nude Horizon, and like all naturist stations there were strictly no clothes, but also none of the explicit sex associated with Emma's station, Harlot TV. Like Harlot, however, it religiously pursued its preferred subject matter, and was often just as dull about it. There was probably less sex on Nude Horizonthan on most other television stations, and most intimacy was of a fairly chaste kind. There were soap operas and documentaries, quiz shows and films just like on any other station: all totally unexceptional but for the nudity. Although Charlotte wasn't a great fan of sex television she preferred it to this. 

Nude Horizonwas showing a general interest program which was actually discussing Harlot TV. What a strange coincidence, thought Charlotte, glancing at Clarissa's boyfriend and wondering if she should say anything about her loose connection with the station. She decided against it. He might not approve. The program was discussing the fourth X awarded to Harlot TV, and the more sexually explicit programs it was now considered responsible enough to show. 

"Of particular interest to our viewers," the television presenter announced, "is that the guiding hand for much of the new policy, is a committed naturist, who, amongst other things believes there should be a more positive attitude towards nudists on sex television." 

The program then featured Emma (yes, Emma, my love, my lovely) who was wearing no clothes as always and looking not at all embarrassed as the rather flabby middle-aged woman presenter asked her questions. 

"For too long on sex television," Emma said in her most polemic style, "nakedness has been thought of as nothing but a prelude to full sexual intercourse. But that is of course absolute nonsense." 

Emma explained in the few minutes allotted to her, that she would influence programming to ensure that Harlot TVwould have its fourth X renewed. There would be a new soap opera which would not just present its cast as simpering sex toys. There would be discussion and chat programs where the presenter would not be obliged to have sex with the guests. And yes, there would be a more positive attitude towards naturism. And there would be an attempt to move away from nudity as titillation, towards nudity as a rational person's life-style choice. 

After the interview with Emma, the presenter addressed some sceptical comments to the camera, but Charlotte heard none of this as her mind focused entirely on Emma. On her beauty. And her formidable modest but assured presence. And on how much she loved her.

"This coffee's taking rather a long time to arrive!" commented Charlotte. 

Without taking his eyes off the feature on naturist cheese factories, Clarissa's boyfriend commented expressionlessly: "I expect that means I'll have to sleep in the spare bedroom." The connection seemed fairly odd to her, so Charlotte, whose mind was still reviewing Emma's television interview, chose to ignore it. 

However, he was right, as Charlotte discovered when Clarissa came in with two cups of coffee, which Charlotte was displeased to find had two sugars and not none as she'd asked. "Sorry, we took so long," Clarissa said smiling in a very peculiar way, her skin shining with an equally peculiar glisten. "Edwin and I just got carried away in the kitchen." She looked at her boyfriend. "He's so good, Cyril, you wouldn't believe! That prick of his just feels so right!" She paused while Cyril continued watching the television as it reviewed naturism and recent amendments to Motoring regulations. "You don't mind sleeping in the spare bedroom tonight, do you, Cyril?" 

His eyes continued to focus on the film of a motorcyclist wearing what was considered the legal minimum quantity of clothes, covering head, chest and limbs, but left the crotch displayed. "No, of course not Clarrie. I even prepared it earlier." 

"Oh you're such a darling, Cyril!" remarked Clarissa, as she kissed him full on the mouth. "Edwin's so good!" She turned to Charlotte and took the hand that wasn't politely holding the cup of coffee she was soon going to let go cold. "And he wants you to join us, Charlotte. Isn't that wonderful!" 

Charlotte hadn't expected this, and so wasn't sure how to respond. She gave a little frown, but her thoughts were more on Emma, and the idea of sex with Edwin and Clarissa just didn't appeal. When would it appeal to her? Charlotte wondered. Perhaps if she'd had more to drink. "I feel a bit tired, I'm afraid." 

"Oh come on, Charlotte," said Clarissa imploringly. "It's not every day you get a chance at this kind of fun." 

That was true, reflected Charlotte, but it was every day she got to witness it. But, as she also thought, Clarissa wasn't gay and Charlotte was, after all, a lesbian. She shook her head shyly. 

"OK," said Clarissa, clearly disappointed. "Well, I hope you don't mind if I go off now and enjoy myself with Edwin." Then she raised herself up, and left Edwin and Charlotte to watch a commercial break featuring products designed for the naturist market, such as sun tan lotion, creams for sore crotches and privacy devices. 

Charlotte continued watching television with Cyril, who made no comment, for what she judged as a polite length of time. After the commercial break, there was a naturist situation comedy, set on a naturist newspaper. The humour was, if anything, even less funny than that in most situation comedies, and the bizarre aspect of newspaper people wandering about in the nude soon palled on her. "I must get going now," she announced. 

"Oh yes," said Cyril, looking up at her, as she picked up her virtually untouched cup of coffee. "Well, it's been very nice having you visit. Please come again." He smiled in a reassuring way, that somehow compensated for much of his previous silence, and then his eyes returned to a situation where one of the characters had spilt drink down her breasts, and made the comment that at least she didn't have to worry about a dry-cleaning bill. 

Charlotte found the kitchen, and poured the coffee down the sink. Then as she wandered back past the living room to the front door she saw that Clarissa's bedroom was wide open and could see Edwin fucking away inside her in a room otherwise remarkable only for its pink and cream decor. Edwin's back was to her, but Clarissa was mounted in such a position he could easily see Charlotte going by. 

"Are you coming to join us after all?" asked Clarissa in a slightly breathless way as Edwin thrust in and out of her, her breasts flopping backwards and forwards to the same rhythm. Charlotte sadly shook her head. "No?" said Clarissa, regretfully. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow then." 

Charlotte left early enough to be able to catch an underground train home, and was soon through the front door, and into the flat. Off came her clothes again. She now viewed them more or less as encumbrances to be worn between rather than at places. The flat was very quiet, and, as Charlotte discreetly verified, Harriett and Emma were sleeping together in Harriett's bed with no guests. She went to the bathroom and while sitting on the toilet, feeling the warm rush of urine splash up from the porcelain onto her thighs, she reflected that perhaps tonight had been one night when she'd have felt more comfortable staying at home. 

However, this view was shattered when with the smell of toothpaste still lingering in her mouth, Charlotte pushed open the door of her bedroom and found that it was not empty. She turned on the light and woke up the small white figure of Susan, lying naked in a huddled figure under the sheets. 

"Oh Charlotte!" Susan cried in a tone of affection. "At last you're back!" 

Charlotte certainly hadn't expected Susan to be there. She'd become an occasional visitor to the flat, and Charlotte had become rather accustomed to watching Susan make love to Emma and Harriett, and on one occasion to Molly, who had been visiting at the same time. She'd taken up the habit of arriving unannounced and assuming that there'd always be sex available, which rather annoyed Harriett, who liked her life better organised. 

"What are you doing in my bed?" wondered Charlotte. 

"Because I've been waiting for you," smiled Susan seductively. She put her arms out and held Charlotte's hands in hers'. "And," she added with an unusually coy grin, "because I love you." 

This rather shocked Charlotte, who had never made love to Susan, though she was very aware that although she got virtually no sexual attention when Susan visited she got almost all her non-sexual attention. "Do you want to make love to me?" asked Charlotte wearily, not sure if this was the opportunity for the love affair she needed after being so decidedly rejected by Emma, or if this was just a nuisance she could do well without. 

"Heavens, no!" exclaimed Susan. "No, I love you too much for that. I just want to be with you. I want to sleep in the same bed as you. I want to feel your tender body near mine. Feel your breath on mine. Have you watching me make love to my boyfriend, to Emma, to Harriett, whoever." 

"But not actually make love with me?" wondered Charlotte. 

Susan smiled. "I feel so fulfilled when I feel you watching me. When I made love to Emma this evening with only Harriett watching, I felt so empty. I know Emma enjoyed it. She really loves my body." Charlotte winced, but she knew it was true. Perhaps Harriett's annoyance with Susan was also because she seemed to give Emma more pleasure than anyone else. "Emma was so passionate. And aggressive. Look at the bruises." She emerged from the sheets and pointed at blue and slightly red patches of skin around her lower body. "And the bite marks," she added indicating her little breasts and just above her crotch. "And look at the blood!" she added, pulling herself out of the bed, turning round to face her bottom to Charlotte, and opening her buttocks to show her anus. And indeed, Charlotte could just about make out patches of dried blood attached to the hairs around her anus. "Emma just goes wild. She just doesn't care what she does to my body," Susan smiled. "But it's you I love." 

"And it's Emma I love!" exclaimed Charlotte who suddenly burst into tears and threw herself on the bed. 

Whatever it was that Susan expected to do that evening it probably wasn't what she in fact did do: which was to comfort Charlotte as she cried through the night, talking about her love for Emma, her jealousy of Harriett, the way she felt neglected when so many women could make love to Emma but not her, the way she felt like just an appendage to the goings on in the flat. "It just fills me with pain to think of you and Emma making love together. With Emma loving you and not me. It was so much better before Emma discovered sex!" 

"I thought you enjoyed watching people make love," commented Susan sadly - herself disappointed. "That's why I was convinced we'd make the perfect couple. I thought I would fuck and you would watch and maybe masturbate. And then we would be just friends and love each other - as I love you. And I would be fulfilled. And I thought you would be fulfilled too." 

"No," sniffed Charlotte, holding Susan's slim shoulders to her chest. "No that's not what I want. Not at all." 



Emma Ch. 08



When Charlotte returned from work and saw the two girls writhing about entwined together on the carpet in front of a sex video the television, she at first assumed that it was Emma and Harriett. After all, when only two women were making love in the flat it was usually only those two. When that happened, she usually hid herself in the kitchen to prepare some dinner, only venturing out when she judged the two had exhausted themselves. However, as Charlotte reflected, it couldn't be Harriett having sex with Emma, as it was only last night that she and Emma and a few of Harriett's other friends had seen her off at the airport. Harriett had started working on a new television series which involved her being filmed making love in exotic parts of the world. Her first destination was Cambodia, at one of its premier luxury holiday resorts. From all accounts this was a fairly demanding job involving group sex and the opportunity to practice her newly acquired lesbian skills. 

No, as Charlotte soon became aware, the woman who was giving Emma such obvious pleasure was Penelope, a friend of Harriett's who'd visited several times before. Penelope was a very skinny girl whose breasts were almost all nipple and whose groin was slightly hollowed out. Charlotte could almost see the bone of her buttocks through the flesh as it pumped in tune to Emma's cunnilingus.

Penelope's flushed face emerged from between Emma's legs, her lips raw and red from exertion. She saw Charlotte and smiled welcomingly before returning to Emma's crotch. Emma had reason to celebrate. She had finished her research for Harlot TV and made her recommendations of what programs to buy and which to emulate just in time for the station to receive its fourth X. This had been very fortuitous timing, because she had now become the default spokesperson for the now more responsible station, which was even now in the throes of renaming itself in a way which better reflected its new status. 

Emma had been interviewed on the countless manifestations of the media, and her appearance as a serious woman with an uncompromising policy of naturism had acted as a very strong advertisement for the station. She had been interviewed on mainline television, national newspapers, several magazines and innumerable organs of more specialist interest in sex entertainment. She had now been seen by more people than had ever watched the station, though in some cases she'd only been filmed or photographed from the waist up. In one or two instances, including a television station which claimed the moral high ground, she could only be seen from the shoulders up. In all her interviews she was free to express her own views about the role of sex television and of naturism as a philosophy of life, and indeed she got the distinct impression from her employers that the more polemical her views the more they were appreciated. 

Charlotte smiled weakly at Penelope and then shyly made her way into the kitchen to busy herself over the cooker boiling vegetables and unfreezing a pre﷓prepared meal. She sat on the kitchen stool waiting for the food to be ready, thinking about her own rôle in the changes that had taken place. While she was there, Penelope came in, still naked and reeking of the shared sweat of her own body and Emma's. She sat down on another stool and chatted to Charlotte about her own job which was not in the sex media, although she aspired to it, but as a clerk for a large supermarket chain. 

"Why is it you never make love with Emma and Harriett?" she asked suddenly. "I've asked Emma and I know it's not because you don't find women unattractive." 

This question unbalanced Charlotte. Why indeed had she never been involved? It just hadn't happened. That was all. She didn't know why really, and she certainly envied everyone else who'd made love to Emma. Charlotte shook her head sadly. 

Penelope stood up from her stool and put her naked arms around Charlotte's naked body. Charlotte felt the heat from her skin before it touched her, and almost burnt her. "Oh! You poor dear!" simpered Penelope kissing Charlotte tenderly on the face. Then, (Charlotte wasn't too sure how), she and Penelope fell to kissing full on the mouth, their tongues actively entwined. Charlotte's tongue trailed round Penelope's teeth and her throat felt the thick mass of Penelope's tongue deep inside. Then, Penelope's hands gripped into her buttocks and Charlotte shyly encompassed her slender bony waist. 

This didn't last for long, when Penelope announced she had to return to Emma ﷓ and in any case Charlotte's food was ready. Penelope left Charlotte alone with her vegetables and thoughts. She felt excited by the attention she'd just received, but she also felt peculiarly guilty of a kind of disloyalty to Emma. 

For the rest of the evening, Charlotte sat in her bedroom reading a novel she'd recently bought, frightened as always of going into the living room where she might perhaps be invited to film the two girls making love or, as with Susan, just to watch in a rage of envy. The hours passed, with Charlotte feeling somewhat disorientated from the affection Penelope had expressed, until it seemed late enough for her to go to bed. She wandered to the bathroom to clean her teeth, and knew she wouldn't meet either of the girls there, as she could hear the familiar rocking of Emma's bed. 

Charlotte returned to bed, and pulled the sheet over her naked body. As so often, she gently stroked her body as she settled down, asking it if it was interested in masturbation. Although clearly excited, her body wasn't going to be satisfied by anything like that, so Charlotte rolled over on her side and faced the wall. 

Several minutes later, Charlotte heard her bedroom door open, and then a body tiptoe silently across the room towards her bed. Perhaps she'd been secretly expecting it, but she wasn't too surprised when she was joined by Penelope's skinny and smelly body, still moist from sex. And it wasn't at all long until she found herself rolling around and writhing with her incredibly hot and bony body. As she pulled at Penelope's long thin nipple in her teeth, Charlotte smelt Emma's own body emanating amongst Penelope's own smells. Well, she thought, if you can't experience Emma's body first﷓hand, it was probably better to experience it second﷓hand. 

While Penelope's expert fingers lubricated Charlotte's cunt, she was considering that, yes!, this was the first time with a woman. She'd always considered herself a lesbian, but one who'd always loved women from a distance. And now, as Penelope's tongue descended down her body to join her exploring fingers at the vagina, she was now to know what it was really like. In some ways it was like making love with a man, but the smells were different, the body was different and the expectations were different. 

"So that's where you are!" Charlotte suddenly heard. She started and withdrew her face from the buttock she'd been licking while supporting herself on Penelope's legs. "This is being really very deceitful!" 

"Sorry, dearest?" wondered Penelope who jerked her head out of Charlotte's pubic hair to look directly at Emma who was standing by the open door, and although only her silhouette could be seen was almost certainly frowning. 

"I've always thought I was honest and open with you," Emma continued crossly, "but then you steal my lovers from my bed. Why couldn't you have just asked and joined in in the normal way, instead of sneaking off with them behind my back." 

"Don't worry, Emma my love," Penelope apologised, "I'll come straight back to bed with you." She disentangled herself from Charlotte's red hot body, which was burning as much with humiliation as with lust. She let herself out of Charlotte's room, pausing only to peck Emma on the cheek as she went out. 

"So, this is how my best friend treats me!" exclaimed Emma bitterly. "How could you do it! How could you be so ... so ... underhand and deceitful!" She turned round abruptly and left Charlotte's room leaving only the memory of her departing bum for Charlotte to masturbate furiously to.



Emma Ch. 09



IX

Every so often Charlotte was required to be on duty to meet the public: usually just to answer their rather technical questions on tax status. There was a policy that interviewees should state whether or not they would be embarrassed by being interviewed by someone unclothed, but it was generally only a small minority of rather elderly clients who preferred not to. Ironically, it was those who were least enthusiastic about being interviewed by a naked woman that Charlotte felt least reserved about being naked with. She had adopted the policy of wearing the white coat provided when interviewing men and it was only for women and fairly asexual men that she would remove it.

Charlotte adopted her usual policy for interviewing Miss J. Taylor by preparing her notes but not bothering with the white coat. Miss Taylor was an actress concerned about a rebate that she felt was due her after a period of three months in a high street clothes shop at a lower rate of pay than for the other nine months of the tax year. It was only when Charlotte entered the interview booth that she realised that Miss Taylor was the Josephine she’d only met the once at her flat. She was wearing a prim white blouse with a silk black scarf and her hair was kept it in place by an ornate hair-clip. 

It was an embarrassed start to the interview, but Charlotte soon relaxed and, after giving Josephine the required forms and explaining the procedures to her, they were able to chat about more general matters. Josephine was auditioning for several television plays, and her agent was very optimistic about her chances in at least one of these. Most of her recent work had been in commercials: and she’d been in enough of those to no longer need to work in Maurice’s (Gentleman Outfitters)for a while. The commercials had been of a generally saucy nature, which seemed a little odd when the products were for such things as detergent, formica furniture and road safety. 

The interview seemed so brief, but in fact when Josephine had left they’d been talking for nearly an hour and a half. Charlotte arranged to meet Josephine for a meal later that week, which Josephine would cook. “I just love cooking!” she said. At first Charlotte suggested certain clubs and wine bars that she’d been to with Clarissa. “Oh, I don’t like the sound of the Haworth!” Josephine exclaimed. “It’s a naturist singles bar, isn’t it?” Charlotte couldn’t really argue with the description, but she felt it strange that someone like Charlotte who had become accustomed to making love for the camera would be so prudish about taking her clothes off in a place like that. Josephine admitted that she’d enjoyed her visit to Charlotte’s flat, but she hadn’t felt like going again. “It was almost like going to an audition,” she remarked. “Even though Emma and Harriett are such marvellous company.” 

Charlotte watched Josephine with a feeling of elevation, curiously happy with herself and the world. That Josephine seemed only interested in her as a friend was perhaps as elating as anything else. Emma was not the Emma that Charlotte used to love so deeply: however much she still craved for her. 

When Charlotte went home on the underground she felt she was on a cloud. She had a brief drink with Clarissa at a small wine bar near the office (not a naturist one) and found it difficult to even pretend to be interested in Clarissa’s converation which, as always, concentrated on her sexual encounters and how her boyfriend, despite being so wonderful, didn’t really understand her. When she ascended to the open air and walked through the suburban streets to her flat she was propelled by thoughts that took her past her flat and forced her to retrace her steps. 

When she entered the flat, took off her clothes and announced her arrival, she was surprised to see Emma run towards her rather solicitously. Emma grasped her round the shoulders and hugged her against her chest. “Can you forgive me?” she asked. 

“Sorry?” 

“After how snotty I was last night when I saw you with Penelope! I don’t know what got into me! I must have been deranged! It must be with Harriett away. I don’t know! I shouldn’t have been like that! Of course you should feel free to make love with Penelope and whoever else you like! I shouldn’t be so selfish and get in the way of what you want. How can you ever forgive me?” 

“That’s alright! I’d almost forgotten ...” 

Emma hurried Charlotte along with her into the living room, and Charlotte was very conscious of a very firm grip around her waist. “I’ve chatted with Penelope about it. She says I was just jealous. I think it’s worse than that. I just don’t think of your needs at all. While Harriett and I have been making love, I’ve just not thought of you (and a professed lesbian too!) having the same needs. But Penelope’s here.” 

The two girls entered Emma’s bedroom and there indeed lying on her bed was Penelope who was, however, still dressed in the rather plain clothes she wore to her supermarket office. Penelope looked up shyly and, it seemed to Charlotte, with some embarrassment as well. What had Emma and Penelope been talking about? 

“So,” announced Emma, emphasising her statement with a pause, “if the two of you would like to make love I’ll stay out of your way.” And with that Emma disappeared and left Charlotte with Penelope. 

What followed was certainly not passion. More like duty performed for Emma’s benefit. After a short chat, where both Charlotte and Penelope skirted discreetly around any subject which could be construed about sex, Penelope shyly removed her clothes to reveal her pale boney frame. As the two girls entwined and went through the motions of what had been more successful the day before, Charlotte felt that perhaps their earlier conversation on the new robotic tills and the bar-codes on the new notes had, after all, been more satisfying. And this was only her second time of making love to a woman. What she’d always wanted! What, as a lesbian, should be the pinnacle of sexual activity! 

Penelope must have felt much the same, because after only half an hour of groping, fumbling and rolling around together, they separated and, almost unconsciously, she started putting her clothes back on. She certainly wasn’t as hot after this as she’d been the previous night. 

Emma was surprised to see Charlotte and Penelope emerge after such a short time. She was watching a film which was thankfully free of all the sex she’d had to watch the last few months, and she’d expected to be able to see that and perhaps another before the two lovers emerged. She was also slightly put off to see Penelope in her clothes again. 

“Didn’t you make love?” she asked. 

“Oh yes! We did!” said Penelope with a look of enthusiasm. 

“And did you enjoy it?” addressing Charlotte quizzically. 

“Yes. It was very nice,” said Charlotte in a way that left Emma more questions unanswered than she’d had before. 

“Oh, that’s alright then,” said Emma conscious that further questioning was probably not in order. “Shall I wind back this film. It’s very good.” 

“What is it?” asked Charlotte eagerly. 

Emma looked at the video sleeve. “Mary Barton. It’s based on a book I believe. And it’s not a sex video. I promise you!”

It was a more relaxed Emma that Charlotte met in the kitchen before leaving for work. It was she, and not Charlotte, who had spent the night making love with Penelope, which, despite a certain element of envy, was actually a relief to Charlotte. Emma kissed Charlotte on the lips with Penelope’s arms around her waist and one of Penelope’s fingers lightly stroking her clitoris. Penelope then followed suit by giving Charlotte a somewhat more passionate kiss: her tongue skimming around Charlotte’s teeth and the roof of her mouth. 

Charlotte left for work feeling more than a little anxious about her evening with Josephine. She’d not felt such an anxiety about having an evening out with someone since she’d first been invited out for a date as a school-girl. An anxiety that proved to be well-founded when all the boy seemed interested in was getting his hands inside her clothes and pulling her knickers down. She just didn’t care enough about him to even bother stopping him. Her day at work seemed to drag on. Perhaps it was just that all the most tedious end of the month accounting happened on the same day. Or perhaps it was the way that the clock was going so much slower than usual. 

There was a temp on reception who took naturist license a little further than most by straying out of the office with no clothes and down to the building’s foyer. This was the only incident of an otherwise tedious day, and by no means the first occasion that a temp had misinterpreted departmental policy for sexual license or overt exhibitionism. When the day ended, Charlotte found herself sitting next to this temp by the bus-stop waiting for the bus which would go to Josephine’s flat in a seedy but bohemian part of town distinguished principally by having no underground stations. She was going in the same direction, so Charlotte found herself doomed to nearly an hour of chatter about her boyfriends, her holidays abroad in tourist traps like Croatia, Albania and Libya, and how much she thought of herself like a naturist like Charlotte. “It must be great not wearing clothes all day!” she exclaimed rather loudly. 

Charlotte didn’t really like the thought of everyone on the 73 bus imagining her naked, so she was quite relieved when she left the bus and followed the directions attached to a piece of paper in her A-Z and could wander about fairly sure that no one was aware she was a naturist. She wore rather more clothes than usual for a warm day, sure that Josephine would disapprove if she’d turned up even topless, and felt rather virtuous for it as she passed others in the street showing rather more flesh than she. Men, she noticed, always got away with flaunting rather more flesh than women, as she passed cars being washed in the street and workmen sitting on a wall. 

Josephine’s flat was a tiny affair in a large rambling building, in obvious need of renovation. The door was almost bare of paint and an upstairs window was covered with cardboard to replace the glass. It was Josephine, though, who Charlotte had come to see, and her heart visibly thundered as the door came ajar and Josephine appeared. “I’m so glad you could make it,” she said smiling broadly. “It’s almost ready - the ratatouille that is.” 

The two girls went upstairs to Josephine’s flat which was full of the aroma of casserole and peppers. It was also full of cushions which covered most of the floor and most of a rather battered-looking sofa. The other thing it was full of were photographs and posters, all of a thespian nature, obscuring the rather dull and faded wallpaper. “You can take your clothes off now if you like,” announced Josephine kindly. 

“Sorry, I’m ...” began Charlotte, who had been convinced that she’d be spending the evening in the clothes she was wearing. The experience would even be quite a novel one. She now associated clothes as the rather clumsy things she was obliged to wear to keep her modesty when travelling to work or being in the public eye. But the proposition of spending an evening naked with a fully clothed woman itself seemed as peculiar as not being naked. 

“Don’t be silly!” smiled Josephine. “I know you’re a naturist, and it doesn’t embarrass me at all.” This was quite a different image than the one projected by her reserved selection of clothes, which even as a concession to the warm weather (being a pair of white shorts and blouse) seemed quite prim. However, Charlotte couldn’t help feeling that the subject having been broached it would be rude to decline the offer, so she stripped off and laid her clothes neatly in a pile in the tiny hallway. 

The meal Josephine prepared was truly sumptuous. Not large in quantity, but certainly so in taste. She was a witty woman, which was assisted by her ability as an actress to entertain Charlotte in a way that soon had her gasping for breath between gales of laughter. Her life as an actress had certainly involved quite a few misadventures, and meeting some very interesting people. Charlotte was no expert on the theatre or cinema but she knew at least the names of many of the people mentioned in Josephine’s anecdotes. After the meal, the two girls sat together amongst the cushions and the odd fluffy toy while Josephine flicked through a photograph album of stills from plays, films and advertisements she’d been in. 

The great majority of her performances had involved her in performing naked and often in full penetration sex. The photographs Josephine showed was almost like a sequence of black-and-white and colour pages from a pornographic magazine. There were shots of her being buggered, of having semen squirted onto her face, of penises either fully in her mouth or on the edge of it, of objects as well as penises up her vagina, and shots of her on stage with more long-distant versions of the same kind of activity. Even many of her stills for television commercials or magazine advertisements involved some quite explicit sexual act. 

“How can you make love in front of the camera?” wondered Charlotte. 

“It’s just a performance,” Josephine admitted, looking ludicrously modest in the flesh compared to her photographic record. “You learn your lines and perform to the best of your ability. And it’s not the camera I perform to. It’s the audience that may be looking through that camera. That takes significantly more skill!” She smiled warmly at Charlotte. “But it takes a little bit more than just play-acting to perform sex successfully. So, I was pretty grateful to the assistance that Emma and Harriett gave me to learn lesbian love. I was able to sail through the auditions ...” 

“Auditions?” 

“Well, they’ve got to be sure of how well you perform... I sailed through the auditions to get a part in the last film I was in where I had to make love to several women. Not just men, in this case. And here’s the proof!” She proudly showed a few photographs which showed her having very passionate sex with two women: one of whom was black and had a large pink dildo incongruously strapped round her waist. “That part got me more money than any part I’d played in a film before.” 

As the evening progressed, and the two girls sipped the white wine that Charlotte had brought with her, it seemed natural for Charlotte to miss the last bus and stay semi-slumped on the cushions on Josephine’s floor. It also seemed natural when Josephine slipped off her clothes, in a practised and unembarrassed gesture that Charlotte for all her professed naturism was not really capable of. The two girls soon lapsed into a kind of contemplative silence, while a Compact Disc of a mid-twentieth century string quartet played in the background, their arms around each other, and Charlotte blissfully happy with the warmth of Josephine’s flesh against hers. 

And it didn’t seem strange when the two girls drifted off to bed together and made the tender sort of love that Charlotte had always dreamed of making with Emma. No penetration. No toys. Not even an attempt at an orgasm. Just lying together exploring each other’s body with their eyes, hands and tongues. As Charlotte looked deep into Josephine’s beautiful large eyes her body and heart melted like ice-cream on a hot summer’s day. Her love for Josephine choked her, and the only thing she could do was allow a tear to gently loosen itself from her eye and onto her cheek. She could only hope that Josephine felt the same way. But she was sure. Oh so sure! That Josephine did.