2 comments/ 22486 views/ 5 favorites Whatever It Takes Ch. 01 By: PhilFluter My wife and I have been together for ten years and I should state from the outset that my wife and I enjoy what I can only describe as an open relationship, but not in the sense that most people would understand the term. Where our story is perhaps unusual is our prolonged and somewhat complicated courtship; and how that courtship eventually had such a significant influence on our life style. We first met when I was 22 and she a year younger at 21. Sarah had moved into the local area with her mother. Although I had had several serious girlfriends, she was the first woman I had ever simply looked at and felt an overwhelming attraction. For me it was the proverbial love at first sight and unusually for me, it wasn't long before I managed to pluck up the courage to ask her out. As I half expected, she turned me down but she was very sweet about it. In fact, in the following weeks I asked her many times but she always managed to knock me back without being unpleasant or destroying my confidence. I suppose in retrospect, from her perspective this was not a very good strategy, because I just kept going back for more. I figured that I would eventually wear her resolve down and she would agree to go out for a meal, which was all I wanted, just a chance to get to know each other. If after that she didn't want to know then I would back off. In total, I probably asked her out well over a dozen times, certainly frequently enough to allow it to become something of a running joke. About once a week, I contrived to ask her out in a different way, usually with some kind of attempted humour. Despite the regular rejections my enthusiasm remained high, as I never saw her out with anyone other than a few girl friends; there was never any sign or hint of a boyfriend. My approaches seemed to be reasonably well received by her and, equally encouragingly, I had the knack of making her laugh. After three months and following a particularly inspired and innovative invitation to dinner she finally relented. At around seven pm, I nervously rang the doorbell of her house and was let in by her mother. Emma was a very pleasant and rather attractive lady in her mid forties, who was very chatty and quickly put me at ease. She told me Sarah was just finishing her make-up and would be down in a moment. After just a few minutes of chit chat, I heard someone descending the stairs and turned my head expectantly towards the sound of the footsteps. Up to that point, I had only seen Sarah in jeans and baggy tops that gave only vague hints about her figure. It was only when she entered the room that I realised what all those casual clothes had kept concealed. She was stunning; everything about her was stunning. I know it's a cliché, but I thought she had the face of an angel and the figure of a model. She was dressed in a black, figure hugging satin pencil skirt with a white lace top with a modest neckline, revealing just a hint of cleavage. A thin black belt, cinched in the blouse at her waist, accentuating her feminine curves. For a moment, I just stared, unable to think of anything to say. Mercifully, Emma broke the silence. "You look lovely darling. Don't you think so Mark?" I stammered in agreement, wishing I could think of something funny to say; something witty, but nothing came and my mind remained stubbornly blank. Taking pity on me Sarah smiled and simply said, "Come on you, don't we have a date?" I glanced at her mother and noted a brief look of surprise cross her face, followed almost immediately by a satisfied smile, but at the time I thought more nothing of it. I promised Emma that I would have Sarah home before 11 O'clock. We drove the short distance to a local restaurant and chose a table in a dimly lit and secluded corner. The evening went as well as I could have hoped. She laughed at my jokes and in return, I was as attentive as any man could be. I felt like pinching myself, hardly believing my good fortune. As the evening progressed, we spoke in an increasingly intimate manner although she steadfastly refused to get physically closer to me even when I shifted my weight and subtly tried to lean in towards her. I was content but could not stop myself from taking the odd surreptitious glance at the rounded swell of her breasts whenever she looked away. I thought I was being discrete, but occasionally when I looked up, she was looking me directly in the face, a hint of a smile playing about her lips. I could feel my face flush with embarrassment but try as I might I could not stop myself. I wished the night would never end but of course it did and all too soon. I suddenly realised that, apart from the staff, we were alone in the restaurant. Impatient waiters started preparing to close the restaurant, placing chairs on tables, clanging plates and glasses so loudly I thought they would break. We heeded the somewhat pointed and heavy-handed hints so I paid the bill and got up from the table thanking the waitress for a lovely meal. I opened the door to the restaurant and stood dutifully to one side allowing Sarah to leave before me. As she went through the doorway, I was surprised but pleased to feel her hand shyly seeking mine and we walked the short distance to my car hand in hand. I parked in the street outside her house and saw her to her door. I anticipated an awkward moment when it came to finally saying good night, but before I had a chance to do anything, she flashed me a dazzling smile, thanked me for a lovely evening and was gone, the front door of her house closing softly behind her. I was left on the doorstep, disappointed and a little confused. The scent of her perfume still filled my nostrils, almost overwhelming my senses and I knew that I was smitten. However, judging by her reaction, I had no reason to believe that she felt the same. The following day I called her on her mobile telephone as early as I dared. I apologised for not thanking her for a lovely evening but assured her that I had enjoyed her company. I clumsily tried to steer the conversation in such a way that I could ask her if she wanted to see me again. I failed miserably, so in the end I decided to ask her a straight question. I summoned up my courage, almost afraid of the answer I may receive. "Sarah," I started nervously, "I would really love to see you again, but if last night was a one off, please tell me and I promise I won't bother you again." There was a short silence, but long enough for me to become aware that I was holding my breath, in anxious anticipation. "Of course I would like to see you again," she whispered, "I had a great time, and besides, my mum thinks you are lovely. I think I should keep a close eye on you both," she finished with an endearing, girlish giggle. I had heard all I needed to hear. I was already late for work, so I finished by telling her that I would call her again that evening. I could not have been happier. After all this time, she liked me, and that was all that mattered. As promised, after I got home from work, I called her again and we chatted for hours talking about anything and everything. The only area she was reluctant to discuss was her previous relationships. I was not so naive to believe I was her first boyfriend, nevertheless, I was puzzled about the abruptness of her attitude whenever the subject was mentioned. I pushed it to the back of my mind and continued to court the girl of my dreams. We spoke every night for the next week until our next dinner date. For a second time we stood outside her front door, after another lovely evening out, but this time I was alert and ready to prevent her making a quick escape. Instead of allowing her to duck through her door, I took her hands in mine and went to kiss her on the lips. She turned her head away and I had to content myself with a quick peck on the cheek. After a slight resistance, she allowed me to embrace her and slowly she seemed to relax. She turned her face to mine and we enjoyed our first proper kiss. I decided to take the initiative and allowed my hands to slide down her back towards the delicious swell of her bottom. Any hopes of physical intimacy were immediately dashed, when she twisted away, bidding me a curt goodnight, this time the door was shut very firmly in my face. Again, she was gone and for the second time I was left confused. Perhaps I had misjudged the extent of our admittedly brief relationship, but even as the thought came into my mind I knew deep down I had not done anything unusual or unreasonable. I stewed over the events most of the night unable to sleep. Instead of phoning her the next day, I decided to see if she would call me. From our conversations, I was certain she liked me and indeed I flattered myself to think it was more than just liking; she had even said as much, but her actions were completely inconsistent with her words. Throughout the day I kept checking my mobile telephone to see if I had any missed calls or texts and to make sure that I had a good signal. I had heard no telltale text alerts and no ringtone, but I checked anyway. As the hours passed, I became increasingly concerned that I had really offended her. It was gone nine o'clock in the evening when the long awaited text arrived. It simply said; 'Whats up? where ru? S xx' My resolve disappeared and I relented, selecting the return call option within seconds of reading her text. Once again, I was a little nervous. "Hi," I said, "are you okay?" "I'm okay, I thought there was something wrong, you usually call me." She sounded as if she had no idea why I had not called. "Well we didn't exactly part on the best of terms last night did we." I said rather harshly. It wasn't a question, simply a statement. After the turmoil I had experienced all day, I was annoyed that she appeared to be in denial. I thought we needed to discuss the subject, not pretend it didn't happen. "Please, can we just forget it; I don't want to talk about it." She was almost pleading with me. I decided not to push it. Okay, I thought, perhaps I had lost some perspective; it was hardly a big deal and after all, it was in truth only a second real date. Maybe the fault was mine and the long conversations we had enjoyed, often late at night, had led me to wrongly believe that our relationship had developed further than it actually had. I still had an uncomfortable feeling that I was trying to convince myself, so perhaps she wasn't the only one in denial. In time, it became apparent that my suppressed instinct was correct. After four months and many more dates, we had still not progressed beyond what, could only be described, as platonic kissing and hugging. Whilst I was prepared to wait there was clearly something wrong. She never claimed to be saving herself for the right man; she simply did not seem to want intimate physical contact. In every other respect, our relationship seemed to be perfect at every level. I had grown to love her and couldn't imagine not being with her. She said she loved me and I believed her. I had now turned 23 and yearned to express my love for Sarah in a physical way. As a fit and healthy young man, I also had needs. Sarah satisfied my emotional needs fully but when it came to physical release, I had to take care of them myself. I would not entertain the idea of being unfaithful to her so I was left with little alternative. It became a matter of routine that we would go out for the evening, I would kiss her goodnight and give her a parting hug. I would then return home to my empty bed and to my shame, to masturbate dreaming of her. It seemed something of a contradiction that whenever we went out she dressed provocatively, making the most of her lovely figure and displaying just enough leg or cleavage to attract attention but never so much that it looked slutty or tarty. I found myself enjoying the fact that other men would openly stare at her when she walked by or when she was sitting on a bar stool showing off a little leg. I was proud that we were together and I was sure that many of the men casting surreptitious glances at her were envious of me and would have gladly exchanged places with me. Little did they realise that I had seen no more of her body than they; neither would they have guessed that we had yet to share a bed or any real intimacy. I periodically tried to introduce a physical dimension to our relationship, but it always caused tensions and was followed by a period where our conversations became strained. Eventually after 18 months it proved too much. After yet another rejection and a particularly extreme reaction from Sarah, I finally forced myself to see reality. I thought long and hard about our future...my future, and I realised I could not go on like this. I felt selfish but I knew that I wanted an adult relationship and at some point a family; with Sarah, there was simply no prospect of such a future. After agonising for three weeks, I finally decided to break up with her but found that having made the decision I simply couldn't find the right time to do so, probably because there could be no right time for such a conversation: or perhaps it was simply that I lacked the courage. During our entire courtship we had not changed our routine. In the early evening I would call for Sarah at her house; she would invariably still be getting ready and I would end up in conversation with Emma. I had become very fond of Emma. She had the same mischievous character as Sarah and indeed had the same feminine figure with full rounded breasts and long slim legs. It was easy to see from where Sarah had got her good looks and figure. Emma always appeared elegant and invariably dressed well. I had never seen her in jeans as she clearly preferred dresses or skirts. Occasionally, when waiting for Sarah, I would find myself idly wondering if such elegance extended to her underwear, perhaps some stockings and suspenders. Either that or I would steal a surreptitious look at her shapely breasts or bottom. Over the months, our conversations had become increasingly flirtatious. At some point, it had occurred to me that although she was a very attractive and pleasant woman, in the time that I had known her there had been no talk or indication of a boyfriend. I put it down to her rather messy and unpleasant divorce, which she occasionally spoke about, although not in any detail, although she was uncharacteristically savage when describing Sarah's father, her eyes flashing in sudden and unexpected anger. When I had decided to break up with Sarah, I realised that it would inevitably also mean ending my friendship with her mother. It bothered me more than it should have, but I was firmly resolved to make a future for myself and the kind of future I wanted could not include Sarah and by implication that meant breaking the relationship with Emma too. I will never make a good poker player! I wear my heart on my sleeve and if I am happy or upset, nervous or confident the signs are there for everyone to see. Once I had plucked up the courage to break with Sarah I knew I owed it to her to do so to her face, where I could explain my reasons to her and at least try to ease the distress I thought our break up would cause. I was prepared to accept full responsibility and that it was my selfish desire for a very particular future that had caused me to come to this decision. I arrived at her house and just like the first time more than 18 months ago, I nervously knocked at her door, my heart pounding. I had not told Sarah of my intention to call, but was half-relieved, half-disappointed, when Emma answered the door and told me that Sarah was not at home. I felt a little foolish, as it was only then that I remembered that several days before Sarah had told me she was going out that evening, but with my mind is such turmoil I completely forgotten. Emma invited me in and then reminded me that Sarah had gone out with some girl friends straight from work to the new restaurant that had just opened. She didn't expect her home for at least another three hours. Despite my sense of temporary relief, Emma sensed something was wrong and said as much; "I can see you are upset about something Mark, won't you tell me what is wrong?" She asked, her tone betraying an anxiety that I was not expecting. I wanted desperately to talk to someone but felt that Sarah's mum was hardly an appropriate choice. "Sorry, Emma, this is between me and Sarah," I replied defensively. "I'll leave it until tomorrow." Perhaps it was female intuition or more than likely the truth was written all over on my face, but her next comment was right on the money. "Oh my God you are going to break up with her aren't you?" The anxious look on her face was now replaced with a look of horror. She had turned suddenly pale and her usual poise and confidence seemed to crumble in front of me. Her breathing had become shallow and hurried. I could not look her in the face so I stared at my feet like a scolded teenager. I could find no words and my lack of response only served to confirm her fears. "My God you are, for heaven's sake why, why?" This was a private matter but I felt the need to justify my decision. "Come on Emma, surely you must have some idea". "Try me," she responded. Her tone was a mixture of aggression and concern. It felt so wrong to be complaining to Sarah's mother but I couldn't help myself. "She shuts me out all the time. She won't let me get close to her. You do understand that after eighteen months all we have ever done is kiss and cuddle. She is just not interested in me as a man... if you know what I mean? I paused, waiting for a reaction. Had I said too much? I desperately wanted Emma to understand that I had been a good and loyal boyfriend to her daughter and that this was not a decision I had taken lightly. I also knew deep down any such conversation should be with Sarah. Emma said nothing, but the look on her face was now pensive as if she was debating what to say next. She turned her back on me and walked slowly to the other side of the room. She paused there a few moments and then returned to look me directly in the face. Her gaze was unnerving. Her words, when they came, sounded cautious as if she was still uncertain about how to express her thoughts. "Yes, I think I may know. Sarah has spoken to me ... Mark there is something you need to know, something Sarah cannot talk about." She had clearly made up her mind to reveal something deeply personal and the pained tone in her voice started alarm bells ringing in my head. "The divorce was very hard on Sarah. I have never spoken about the reason why Sarah's dad and I divorced, but the reason we moved here was to try to make a clean break, to get away from an area that has some very bad memories for both of us." Her eyes were moist. I could see this was difficult for her and allowed her to continue in her own time. A sense of foreboding came over me and I dreaded what I may be about to hear. "Sarah's father was not a nice man. He did things to her when she was young. Please don't ask me for details but please believe me, Sarah loves you and is doing her best to get over it, but it is really hard for her to be with a man." Tears were now streaming freely down her cheeks, smudging her mascara and leaving a glistening trail of tears that collected on the point of her chin and dripped onto her breasts. The sudden and unexpected pain her words had caused me caught me off guard and made me realise the true extent of my feelings for Sarah. I immediately began to doubt my decision to leave. I found that I was getting angry; thinking of the pain Sarah must be feeling and more uncomfortably how my pressurising her into a physical relationship would have only contributed further to that pain. I tried, without success, to articulate my chaotic, jumbled thoughts to the woman in front of me. She looked distraught and vulnerable. Instinctively, I opened my arms and she fell into them, both of us seeking comfort through physical contact. As we held each other, her crying had triggered tears of my own and our free flowing tears mingled on our cheeks. Sharing the pain and feeling her warm body pressed against mine seemed to help; I knew I was embracing someone who loved Sarah at least as much, and probably even more than me. We continued to hold each other tightly for what seemed an age. Eventually when the crying had subsided a little, she continued, her emotions still making it difficult for her to speak; Whatever It Takes Ch. 01 "I know this is difficult Mark, but you must understand we have been living with this for many years. She is seeing a therapist but it hasn't done her much good so far. She knows you are different. She sensed it the moment you met and so did I, after I met you for the first time. I'm afraid you may be her only hope for a future, she is so scared of losing you... and so am I." The last few words were whispered softly and I had to strain hard to hear them. "I know how patient you've been; you are a good man Mark, but please don't do this to her. Since meeting you she is a changed person, she is happy for the first time in years. Please don't throw it all away; there are things we can do...together we make it better." I felt able to speak for the first time in several minutes, although the solid lump in my throat made it painful. "I don't want to hurt her, I love her", I almost choked on my own words, "but you must see I have my own life to lead. I really want to help but I cannot help having needs of my own. I am so sorry but I want a wife and a family." I could not believe how selfish those words sounded when said aloud. I felt ashamed of myself. "But so does Sarah; I'm begging you, just give her some more time." Emma waited for a response. When none was forthcoming, she continued. "Listen to me, Sarah tells me everything. For years she bottled everything up inside, she thought I must have known about her father but I swear to God I didn't have any idea. The moment I found out, we got out. Now we talk about everything, and we have spoken about you many, many times." There was another long pause. "Did you hear what I said earlier? There are things we can do to make things better." I noted the change in her tone. She was once again a confident mature woman in control of the situation. "We won't let you walk away without a fight, Mark. Sarah and I will do whatever it takes to keep you in our lives...whatever it takes." Her last words were heavily emphasised. There was a long pause prompting me to look into her eyes seeking an explanation. Once again, she appeared to be in some conflict, debating her next steps. A determined look came into her deep blue eyes and I sensed she had a come to some decision. She moved away from me, creating a short gap between us. Despite my charged emotional state, I couldn't help but notice her full curvaceous figure. As she stepped away, she turned to face me directly, her body square on to mine. She locked her eyes with me and slowly slipped one strap of her dress off a pale shoulder. That one action spoke volumes and it was clear we were entering new territory in our relationship. She moved again, now turning sideways on to me. I was looking at her in profile, a perspective that emphasised the ample curves of her breasts, heavier and more rounded than her daughter's, but equally exquisite. She smoothed the wrinkles from her dress, caressing the feminine curves of her hips and thighs. She lowered her chin so that was touching the smooth pale skin of her shoulder, all the time looking at me with a mix of uncertainty and expectation. Despite her ruined makeup, she still looked amazingly attractive and sexy but also vulnerable and uncertain. "You don't have to do this Emma". It took all of my resolve to say but I couldn't help but feel that she felt obliged to act out of character in this way; it felt too much like emotional blackmail. I stepped towards her and slid the dress strap back into place. Foolishly, I allowed my hand to linger on her cool skin and felt my own resolve crumble. "I know." Her reply was short and simple but as she spoke she again slipped off the strap, but this time in a manner that brooked no contradiction. "And it's because you say and do things like this, that I know I am doing is the right thing." She continued. " I am just going upstairs to fix myself up, I must look a mess." Almost without thinking, I blurted a reply: "I think you look amazing, I always have." She smiled, seemingly satisfied with my response. "I must get out of this dress, it feel suffocating. Would you help me with the zip?" She asked the question as she turned her back to me, confident of my response. I nodded, even though I was conscious that she was no longer looking at me. My mouth was dry as with a trembling hand I pulled the zip downwards until it stopped just a few inches above the swell of her bottom. Her now gaping dress allowed me to see that she was wearing what looked like a black corset. I let my hands fall to my sides unsure of what to do; unsure of what she expected. I longed to reach around and cup her heavy breasts, wanting to feel the soft yielding flesh in the palms of my hands. I longed to kiss her slender neck, but my lack of confidence stopped me. There was an expectant pause. I sensed she was waiting for me to make a move but when I failed to take the initiative she sighed and walked slowly to the foot of the staircase, her hips swaying seductively. Before ascending, she paused. Once again, she turned to face me. "Don't worry about Sarah, she is okay with this; whatever it takes Mark. Just give me a few minutes". Only a fool could mistake her intent. She held my gaze momentarily and, as if to reinforce her intent, she slipped the remaining strap from her pale shoulder, before she turned away clutching the front of her dress to her bosom to stop it falling and then started up the stairs. I remained rooted to the spot. The sudden turn of events was staggering. I had not previously thought of Emma in an overtly sexual way but the bulge in my pants suggested that that was no longer the case. My mind was racing, trying to rationalise what was happening. I had come here tonight intending to break up with Sarah, but in order to persuade me to stay in the relationship, her own mother was attempting to seduce me, apparently with Sarah's consent. I was twenty-three years old, standing in a kitchen with an increasingly painful erection while an extremely attractive mature woman was waiting to have sex with me upstairs. I reflected on the fact that I had not been with a woman in over three years and I hungered for the soft and sensuous feel of a naked woman held against my own naked body. The decision was easier to make than it should have been, but I could not ever remember being so deliciously nervous or excited. My heart was pounding in my chest. Three or four minutes had passed before I slowly followed my girlfriend's mother upstairs. When I reached the top step, I saw five doors. I briefly wondered which was Sarah's room conscious that I had never been invited to this part of the house before. Only one door was slightly ajar, a soft, inviting light emanating from within. I took off my shoes and crept quietly towards the light. I drew a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open, revealing the interior. It was obviously Emma's bedroom. The dress she had been wearing was now on the floor, lying in a crumpled heap just inside the door, as if it had been discarded carelessly and in a hurry. As I entered, I saw Emma standing at the foot of a large double bed. The lights were subdued, creating a romantic and comfortable atmosphere, but at that point, I only had eyes for her. She was a truly stunning looking woman, now dressed only in provocative, black lingerie. She had now reapplied her makeup and looked radiant; with no hint of the tears or emotions she had displayed downstairs just a short time ago. "Well, do you like what you see?" She asked confidently. "I think most men like stockings, but I wasn't too sure about the stilettos or the basque." "They are perfect," I replied. My mouth was dry. No woman had ever dressed to please me in such an overtly provocative way before. Her choice of underwear certainly pleased me. Emma's full breasts were pushed upwards by a black lacy basque, accentuating her deep cleavage. It was laced up tightly, making her pale breasts heave with every breath. "I thought you had gotten lost," she said reproachfully. "Now are you going to just stand there gawping or are you going to give this old lady a treat?" Disappointed with my lack of response she continued, almost taunting now. "Come on don't be shy, I can see you want me. Do you like them; are they big enough for you?" As she spoke, she cupped her breasts in her hands, forcing them even higher, seeming to enjoy their heavy, yielding softness. I remained spellbound, transfixed by the sight in front of me, waiting to see what she would say or do next. As she released her breasts, they settled back with a delicious wobble. I watched intently as she began tugging ever so slowly at the basque's front zip. She stopped when it reached around halfway, fully aware of the effect her actions were having on me. Her large breasts were threatening to burst out, now that the constricting pressure of the basque had been released. I could contain myself no longer. I strode purposefully across the room, took her in my arms and kissed her passionately; our tongues entwining and probing. She tasted delicious and my urgent reaction seemed to galvanise her into activity. "Use me," she gasped between kisses, "do whatever you fucking want with me". She frantically unbuttoned my shirt, virtually ripping it from my body. Even before the discarded shirt had hit the floor we again embracing tightly and I became conscious of the wonderful contrasting feel of the stiff, rasping fabric of the lacy basque and the scented, softness of her skin against my chest. Even in her high stiletto shoes, she was several inches shorter than me and in order to kiss she had to tilt her head back at an acute angle. Our kiss was again long and full of passion. When our lips finally parted, she took a gulp of air. "You are gorgeous. I want to do something for you." She lowered her head and surprised me when she started to flick the moist tip of her tongue across my nipples. It was the first time anyone had done this to me and I was thrilled by the unexpected stimulation it caused. I barely noticed when her hands dropped to my belt and began loosening it. As it came free, she unceremoniously pulled at my pants dragging them to the floor, taking my socks with them. I was now naked in front of this beautiful, mature woman. My straining cock stuck straight up in the air, my intense arousal holding it firmly against my stomach, as hard as I have ever seen it. Emma looked up at me appreciatively. She had remained on her knees after removing the last of my clothing. "My my, look at who is a big boy," she giggled. I knew it was ludicrous but her comments stroked my ego and I basked in the belief that she thought I was so well endowed. I am not unusually large as far as length is concerned but I consider myself blessed that I have a cock that is much thicker than most; at least those cocks I have seen in porno films. Keeping her eyes locked on mine, she gripped my cock firmly in both hands and pulled at it so that it was pointing horizontally at her face. She teased me by placing a soft wet kiss on the shining taut skin, causing my erection to convulse in uncontrolled response. Then, as I had dared to hope, she opened her mouth and allowed the head to enter her sweet, hot mouth, her bright red lipstick highlighting just how far her lips had to stretch in order to accommodate me. Even though she was struggling to take my thickness, I felt her tongue flicking rapidly around the head. Judging by the sensations I was experiencing I guessed she had done this before. The evening so far had been a series of stimulating, emotional peaks and troughs. With the intense visual stimulation I had received over the last fifteen minutes or so, coupled with the exquisite warmth and of Emma's mouth and busy tongue, I knew that I would not be able to last long. I ran my fingers through her silky, golden hair encouraging her to continue. "If you keep doing that I am going to come." I croaked. My warning only seemed to encourage her into even greater effort. She briefly allowed my cock to slip from her mouth, strings of her saliva dripping onto her breasts. "Whatever it takes," she whispered, "do whatever feels good." Without waiting for a response, she renewed her ministrations, unceremoniously forcing my cock as deep into her throat as possible. As she impaled her small mouth on my erection, she used one hand to cup my throbbing balls, fondling them gently, allowing her sharp manicured nails to stimulate the sensitive area around my anus. Her other hand pumped away at the base of my shaft, trying in vain to encircle my thickness. I started to thrust gently, easing my cock even deeper into Emma's throat, an instinctive and almost involuntary movement. She had given me a green light to selfishly enjoy the moment. I kept my eyes open throughout, drinking in the vision of this beautiful woman acting like a slut, satisfied and stimulated by the knowledge that her every action was designed only to enhance my pleasure. When she sensed my approaching orgasm, she placed her hands behind her back and clasped them together, locking them in place with her fingers. From my vantage point, it looked as if her hands had been tied up, giving her no choice but to submit to my urgent desires. The image pushed me closer to the edge. When the inevitable release came, it came quickly. I gave her no warning; she expected none and she had asked for none. I groaned out load when my hot spunk shot from the end of my cock splashing against the roof of her mouth. She grunted in surprise but did her best to swallow my emission, causing her to remove her mouth from my still spurting cock. Now free of her mouth another convulsion splashed a streak of thick semen diagonally across her face. Yet another strong uncontrolled spurt flew high into the air before the ropes of sticky fluid fell back into her hair with a soft splatter. It was Emma's turn to groan in appreciation before she again jammed her mouth back onto my cock just as another spasm sprayed yet more semen into her willing and enthusiastic mouth. Slowly the eruptions subsided and Emma took the opportunity to gulp down the thick salty liquid. I had not taken my eyes off her for an instant and I had watched as copious amounts of my semen transformed her appearance from a respectable attractive woman into a cum drenched porn actress. For the second time that night, her eye makeup was running down her cheeks, but this time there were no sign of tears. I stepped away and looked at the vision of loveliness that was still kneeling in front of me, her hands still clasped behind her back, her head lowered in a submissive manner. I offered her my hands and helped her to her feet. I took her in my arms, holding her close. I smoothed some semen away from her mouth and then kissed my girlfriend's mother deeply. I did not care that I could taste myself on her lips. "Thank you," I gasped, "that was fucking unbelievable". I was euphoric and felt the need to thank her for giving me the most erotic and sexually satisfying experience of my life. She smiled, "Don't think I'm finished with you yet," she purred. She gently extricated herself from my embrace and moved gracefully over to the bedside table where she used a tissue to remove the semen from her hair and face. She sat down and patted the bed at her side inviting me to sit with her. We sat in silence for a few moments, both of us reflecting on our actions and perhaps the consequences of those actions. I thought of Sarah, and how I was going to face her. "You are thinking of Sarah aren't you?" Emma said accusingly, but without rancour. "Yes," I admitted. Now that I had satisfied my lust, I was starting to regret my actions, however pleasurable they may have been. "Don't feel guilty. Do you think I would do this to my own daughter if it were just for my own pleasure? Sarah knows she cannot expect to keep you without having a sexual relationship. We came up with this solution together. It was her suggestion that if it came to it, that I would try to seduce you. I have always been attracted to you but would never have done anything if the two of you could make it work. I was even more determined to help when Sarah told me how patient you have been with her." Somehow, I felt flattered. "So what happens now?" I asked. "I want you and Sarah to stay together, give her a chance to overcome her problem. This is just sex with no strings. Sarah doesn't want to lose you but she knows you cannot be expected to live without a physical relationship and that sooner or later you would have found someone else. This way we all benefit. You and Sarah stay together, you can have sex whenever and however you want and I get to sleep with an attractive young man half my age. I don't want another relationship, but I have needs... just like you, and this monster...", she giggled as she dropped her hand to my semi flaccid cock and gave it a gentle squeeze, "will keep me more than happy". It sounded like a rehearsed speech. In the bizarre circumstances, I found it difficult to fault her logic, although just how we were going to make this seem normal, was for the moment, beyond me. "Well, are we going to try to make this work, or are you going to walk away and break Sarah's heart?" Her words had a hint of emotional blackmail in them, but I was hardly in a position to moralise. In truth, I was confused about my feelings. It seemed shallow to stay for the sex, but even as the thought came to my mind, I conveniently dismissed it. My main reason for leaving had been to seek a reasonably happy future for myself. I had assumed that Sarah was simply not interested in a physical relationship and by implication children. If a future with Sarah were still possible then I would do whatever I could to secure it, or at least give it every chance of succeeding. "I'll stay," I said, "but I can't imagine Sarah being happy with the circumstances." Emma heaved a sigh of relief. "Leave that to me, it won't be as difficult as you may think. I know you won't regret this decision." She sounded confident and I was inclined to believe her. "Besides", she continued, "we have the house to ourselves for the next few hours". I smiled. Okay, I thought in for a penny as they say, let's see if we can find some boundaries. I had bought into her proposal and now felt much more confident. "What did you mean earlier when you said I could have sex however I want?" By way of reply, Emma stood up and pirouetted in front of me finishing with a wiggle of her bottom. "Just tell me what to do and I will do it." My cock was again straining towards the ceiling. "Anything at all?" I asked hardly daring to believe my ears. "Why don't you stop talking and try me." She replied, sounding slightly impatient. "Take off your basque then." I commanded. Without a murmur she complied, removing the garment quickly in an almost clinical and matter of fact way. I saw her breasts for the very first time. Their shape captivated me as well as the almost imperceptible way they seemed to move of their own volition. Emma's nipples were erect and the areolas dark and crinkled in arousal. The speed and willingness with which she had complied with my direction made me want to experiment further with this new game. "Are your nipples sensitive?" I ventured. She nodded her reply. "Do you like to touch them when you are alone in your bed?" "Yes." She breathed and without delay, she cupped her heavy breasts in her hands, lifting them slightly, and started to flick her thumbs repeatedly across the turgid nubs, each sensual touch producing a gentle moan of delight. Her eyes had closed, and she was obviously concentrating on the pleasure she was experiencing at her own hand. I let her continue for a few moments. Whatever It Takes Ch. 01 "Is that nice." "Mmmm." Was her only response "Do you like to masturbate?" I asked. If she had opened her eyes she would have seen me slowly stroking my own cock. "Of course." "I want to see you masturbate." I stated. Reluctantly she released her breasts allowing them to fall with a lovely jiggle. Without glancing at me, she moved to her bed and sat on the edge, her feet planted on the floor wide apart. Again, she closed her eyes, withdrawing into her own world as she slipped one hand down the front of her black lace panties while with the other resumed stimulating her nipples. Even though still fully covered in black lace, I could still see that her pussy was covered in blonde hair. Her breathing quickly became laboured as I watched, fascinated by the movements of her hand under the sheer fabric. At first she was content with rubbing her long middle finger around her clitoris but very soon her hand descended further and I could make out that she was using it to achieve penetration. With a muffled moan, she spread her legs further apart allowing her easier access to her gently thrusting pussy. The gentle sensual rubbing motion was gone and she was now simply forcing fingers as deep into herself as possible and as quickly as possible, the young voyeur just a few feet away, apparently completely forgotten. She was fully preoccupied with her own pleasure and in anticipation of final release she lay back on the bed, with her black stockinged legs, now bent at the knees, spread as far apart as possible. The insistent rhythm of her right hand was transmitted to her stiletto clad feet, causing them to rise and fall in sync with her plunging fingers. She was still using the fingers of her other hand to twist and pull at her nipples. It was at this moment that I stepped into the space between her outstretched legs and grasped an ankle in each hand. Her eyes snapped open and she looked up at me in shock, confirming my belief she was in a world of her own. "Oh my god." She gasped breathlessly. Glancing down she saw my rigid cock just inches from her pussy. She pulled the soaked gusset of her panties to one side and I saw the true extent of her arousal. Her fingers were drenched in her own juice which she smoothed around the head of my cock, before positioning it at the entrance to her pussy. "Stick it in me." She pleaded urgently, thrusting her hips into the air in a frantic fucking motion. With no preamble, I simply leaned my weight into her and in one smooth motion, I fully impaled her with the entire length of my long thick cock. Her mouth opened wide and I thought she was going to scream, but she remained silent apart from another suppressed groan. Nevertheless, I was still surprised when the simple act of entering her triggered her long anticipated orgasm. The exquisite feel of her hot pussy clamping onto my cock and the intensity of her orgasm had an unexpected but hugely erotic effect on me, and after just a few long and energetic thrusts I also orgasmed, spewing what felt like huge load of semen deep inside Emma. My own powerful orgasm triggered another series of orgasms in Emma, which seemed to continue unabated for what felt like an age. Now spent, I released her ankles and her legs fell limply onto the bed. I lowered myself onto her supporting most of my weight on my arms, enjoying the close intimacy that follows sex, my cock still deeply embedded in her pussy. Emma was panting hard, gasping for breath. "I want to feel your full weight on me," she whispered. Slowly, and by degrees, I allowed an increasing amount of my weight to pin her down, though I was ready to relieve the pressure at the merest hint of protest. No such protest was forthcoming but I was nevertheless surprised by the obvious satisfaction she was deriving from being pinned down almost helpless and supine to her own bed. We stayed in that position until we both began to catch our breath. For the second time that evening I felt unable to contain the need to express my gratitude. "Thank you, thank you so much." I whispered in her ear. "Please don't thank me." She whispered back. "Please don't ever thank me again for anything I do in this room. I did nothing I didn't want to do." I paused and pondered her words. I understood her sentiments and also why she would say such a thing. "Okay, I think I understand, but what about telling you that you are beautiful and tonight has been the most amazing sex of my life." She smiled. "Yes, you can say that, as often as you like." I sensed that my weight was beginning to cause her feel discomfort so rolled off her so that we were now both lying on the bed looking up at the ceiling. I glanced at her bedside clock and subconsciously calculated that it was just an hour since I had arrived at the front door. An hour that I sensed would fundamentally change my life forever. Both of us were caught up in our own private thoughts. Emma sat up suddenly. " I am going to take a shower." She stated. "What about you". I considered the delights of such a prospect, but decided to keep that experience for the future. "I think I will make a move, just in case..." I left the sentence hanging, unwilling to finish it. "...in case Sarah comes home early", she finished. "When will I see you again?" "I was going to ask you the same thing." She thought for a few moments. "Let me talk to Sarah first and I will give you a ring on your mobile." We both stood and enjoyed an intimate embrace, kissing this time in a romantic manner rather than an erotic precursor to sex as before. I collected my clothing from around the room, checking my appearance in her mirror before descending the stairs. We kissed again but when the door opened to the outside world, we both reverted to the previous roles of girlfriend' mother and daughters boyfriend, that we both understood and implicitly accepted. Emma saw me to the door in her bathrobe. There was no parting kiss at the door.