A Glorious Tease Ch. 04

"Ok, yeah. That's cool. I'll go work out." I smiled.

The next 20 minutes were some of the most intense, unique minutes of my life. I watched Emma read my story. I watched her blush, and shift in her seat. I watched her fidget with her clothes, twisting the material between her fingers. I saw her completely entranced, transfixed by my writing. I witnessed her being so absorbed by my expression of us, that nothing else existed. She didn't look up once.

I was out of breath when she finished.

She looked at me, across the room, and smiled, but didn't hold my gaze like she could normally do so effortlessly.

She looked away, weakly. Like she had lost sight of me. Like she couldn't see anything. She got back to work, doing her routine chores. She was moving so slowly. She was so deep in her head, that every single movement was executed with minimal drive behind it. So, so, so slowly that it was actually kind of funny to watch, if you could describe something as funny that was also so sexy and emotional.

I went to the bathroom to fill my water bottle, and she followed me in. The lust on her face actually did make me laugh out loud, but nervously, and feeling overpowered by desire myself I reached for her. She shook her head.

"You make me so crazy."

She turned away from me, half-heartedly brushing my arms away, and she leaned against the sink to look at us both in the mirror.

I put my hands on her. Even then, after everything that had happened, with her overcome and coming to me in the bathroom, there was a barrier. She didn't turn to me. She didn't hug me. She didn't kiss me. She just stared at us both in the mirror in desperate conflict with herself.

I was behind her. I had one hand on the lower swell of her fabulous ass, and one hand creeping up her stomach from her hip to her breast. I kissed her exposed neck and she closed her eyes and then opened them again, tortured, and continued staring at us in the mirror.

I don't know what happened next. I could have pulled her pants down right there and slipped my dick inside her. I'm sure I could have. She was not resisting me, only herself.

And maybe that's why I didn't. I was not going to take her, even if she wanted me to: I wanted her to give herself to me. Maybe that was the final, impenetrable barrier. We both wanted it so badly, but also felt so guilty that we wouldn't take the final step alone.

If it came to coitus, it had to be both of us giving in completely, and simultaneously. Or maybe that's not even right either. Maybe it just couldn't be giving in at all. Neither of us would do it if it felt like surrender. We should feel triumphant, together.

And so there were those intense moments in the bathroom, but we exited without anything more happening.

She went back to her chores and I went back to my workout, but I was watching her, and she was thinking about me. I just wanted to make Emma cum.

Emma another step. She left the weight room for a while and then returned with the trolley of cleaning equipment. My heart pounded in my ears. Maybe nothing more happened in the bathroom because the bathroom was just not the ideal place. The storage room was a better place. Returning the trolley could take lots of time, with lots of privacy.

There was no rush - she couldn't just return it without at least pretending to have a reason for getting it in the first place. She started cleaning some of the equipment. Slowly. Thinking. Wringing out the cloth as though the falling water fascinated her.

I was excited, but also feeling quite scared. The final line was right there in front of me. In that storage room I would lose myself completely in Emma. I would be powerless to want anything but Emma after that. ... What about my kids? I was scared for my children. I tried not to think about that.

I continued to watch Emma distractedly go about her job. I watched her, and wanted her, and wanted to be with her. And... I just wanted to know Emma more.

I had never asked Emma to be Facebook friends, or Google+ friends, or anything like that. I had searched her out many times, but never sent that friend request. Early on I could have asked without it being a big deal to her, but I guess I didn't because even early on it would have been a big deal to me.

With a strange feeling of apprehension lurking beneath the surface of a powerful urge to know Emma more, I suddenly wanted to ask Emma to be Facebook friends.

I don't use Facebook much, but I wanted to look at all her pictures. Even more so, into the future I wanted to be able to know her forever, even if I were on a different continent.

I came over to her desk and asked if she was on Facebook. The gym had gotten a little busier and there were eyes and ears attending to us now. We had to act like nonchalant acquaintances.

I told her I always wondered what people found if they searched for me, because I didn't know how to work the privacy settings. So, right there, with me standing beside her, she found my Facebook page and sat staring at my profile picture: me and my wife smiling as we spoke to someone off camera, and my wife holding our youngest boy, about a year old at the time.

Emma was struck by it. I was surprised I had done that. Why had I done that? I hadn't really been thinking about what she would see, but some part of me had to know she would see my wife and kid and that under the circumstances, that it would hurt.

And now, as I think it over, again, I have to explain it as the subconscious part of me that was fighting against my cheating. I was blindsided by myself. The part of me that only wanted to do right by my children reached out to my behavior, and said "I need to remind this son of a bitch that he has responsibilities."

Both Emma and I were flustered and that ended our Facebook talk.

We still aren't Facebook friends.

I went back to working out. I was all over the place. Emma was all over the place. We wanted each other so badly, the story fresh in both our minds, and yet even fresher was the reminder that I had a family, fortifying the barrier between us like razor wire.

I went to do cardio and pushed so hard my heart rate hit a new high. I was covered in sweat. I was fighting through the pain. I just wanted to make Emma cum.

WHY!?

Why couldn't I just make Emma cum?!

The clock was ticking. Emma was leaving with her boyfriend to spend two weeks in one of the most romantic cities in the world. We weren't over yet, but we were probably over the moment she left for that trip.

One last day to acknowledge our feelings before she would never acknowledge them again.

She had been cleaning with the trolley of equipment for half an hour, and now stopped. I was ready to go. I came to her desk.

"I guess I won't see you for a couple of weeks."

"That's right."

"Well, I hope you have a good trip."

"Thanks."

It was so painful.

"Are you going to return that trolley to the equipment room now?"

"I was going to, but I'll wait until after you leave."

She wouldn't do it. She was not going to do it. She wanted to so badly but I had made it impossible for her. She had seen the people I was hurting, it reminded her of who she was hurting, and she wouldn't let us hurt any of them anymore. She has been a better-behaved person than me through this entire thing. I love and admire her, but it's irritating.

I left.

I got to the bottom of the stairs, and then I heard the trolley rolling loudly across the floor above me.

I paused. And then I quietly sprinted back up the stairs and caught her at the door to the storage area. She had just pushed the trolley into the room, and she turned to see me coming toward her.

She was not surprised.

I plunged into her, wrapping my arms around her and lifting as I kissed her hard and carried her back through the doorway.

She returned my kiss with equal hunger and lifted her legs around my waist. Our tongues connected. I was ecstatic. I was exactly where I belonged. I kicked the door closed behind me and leaned her back against the wall. I wanted to touch her everywhere, but first, just to hold her up in my arms and kiss her hard.

It was wet, passionate, happy, kissing. All our concerns fell away and it was only us, our bodies pressed together, our consciousness dissolving into celestial music, celebrating being human, celebrating the physical joy we could create together.

And it was private. She pulled my shirt over my head as I continued to hold her up and then she rubbed her hands down my chest, running her nails through my chest hair, massaging the muscle and feeling the firm shape. She looked back up to my eyes, kissed me again on the lips, then on my neck, my shoulders, down to the firm hard flesh below my collarbone, and back to my lips.

She took off her shirt, and quickly her bra as well. Her breasts were gorgeous, completely freed. I leaned my head down and lifted her higher to take a nipple in my mouth. It was already stiff and she moaned as I licked and kissed it, pressing my face into her so that I could feel her other breast against my cheek.

We needed to be naked.

I put her down and she immediately started to pull my shorts off. I kicked off my shoes and at the same time I tried to get her pants down. We struggled around each other's arms for a moment until I decide to let her go first. She practically ripped my shorts and underwear down to my knees and then used her foot to push them the rest of the way down and I stepped out of them.

My cock was so rigid, that it didn't even bend when she pulled my shorts down over it. She looked at it for a second, and put her hand on it, stroking lightly, breathing hard. Then she slipped off her own shoes and pulled the rest of her clothes off.

I barely got a chance to take in the full view of her completely nude before we were back into each other's arms, kissing wildly. My dick was pressed against her belly and she started to lift her leg up onto my hip, climbing onto me. I pick her up again, slowly, with my hands on her ass. I felt her wet slit slide up my shaft, pressed hard against me as I lifted her, until the head of my dick got to the gap between her legs and pushed forward into the space, working itself into her opening.

She was soaked and slippery and her arousal coated the head of my dick. I held her up under her ass, my arms bent but strong, pausing with just half of the head of my dick resting in her hot, wet, outer folds. She moaned loudly and bucked her hips against me, wanting me to lower her, but not yet.

It was heaven.

This was it. We were going to make love.

I wanted to savor every millimeter of contact as I entered her, slowly.

I hesitated for an instant and swallowed. There was no way I could stop this now.

As I tried to lower her down onto me, she hugged my neck hard and kept herself high, and she arched her back to move her middle away from me, dislodging my dick.

Surprised, I put her down. We looked at each other. I shook my head with tears coming to my eyes, begging her wordlessly not to end it here. Not to stop now. God, not now.

It was all in my face and she reacted by squatting down, and taking me into her mouth.

She wouldn't make love to me, but the sadness and fury that caused in me was overtaken immediately by the pleasure of her mouth. I couldn't slow down to care. She had her mouth on me. We were naked. I was in love. I was going to cum with Emma again.

Emma sucked me with everything she had. She pushed through whatever guilt had made her stop, whatever kept her from crossing the final line, and was consoling herself by giving me, once again, an intensely erotic experience that I would never be able to forget.

She pumped my shaft as she tasted the first bit of pre-cum and made cooing sounds. I looked down at her perky breasts bouncing softly with her motion. I looked at her lovely lips wrapped around me. He eyes were closed. I wanted her to open them. I wanted to gaze into those gorgeous eyes. She felt so good.

She looked up at me, and I cried out in bliss.

"Emma, God, I'm going to cum."

She started sucking even more ferociously, and I let go.

She took the first blast into her mouth, but then loosened her lips while tightening her cheeks and tongue around me, squeezing the cum out the corners of her mouth and letting it drip heavily down her chin and drop to her naked chest and legs.

She was moving up and down over the head of my cock, maintaining the friction with her tongue as the second gush filled her mouth again, oozing out to coat my shaft, sliding with her mouth up and down, and continuing to drip from her lips.

She closed her eyes and grasped the base of my dick, pulling me out of her mouth and lowering her face to teasingly lick my testicles with her sloppy, cum-covered tongue. Her teasing my balls encouraged another massive spasm and she stroked out a third, thick, white burst upward to splash into her hair just above her forehead where it immediately began running down the side of her face from her temple to her cheek.

She smiled gleefully as she rubbed my cock against her skin, downward, moving her hand quickly along the slick wet length and pressing the head against her cheek as another surge spurted onto her. She opened her eyes and locked them onto mine, showing me all the desire, excitement, and amusement she felt at surpassing my fantasy once again.

My mouth and eyes were wide as I gazed down at her with complete reverence, taking in every feature, her gorgeous face with her perky breasts jutting out below and her firm thighs lower still. I was still orgasming, both physically and psychologically, blown asunder by the pure sexual abandon that she displayed. I memorized every second of the experience, watching my cum slide down her face, ooze from her lips, and stick to her fingers as she continued to stroke me.

I watched a drip fall from her chin and land directly on her nipple and saw her shiver and squeeze her thighs together, reacting to me seeing it, knowing how much it affected me.

I never really softened, but when my orgasm fully subsided, Emma let go of my dick and smiled lustily up at me. I felt like I was going to collapse, and I almost did, but another need was so relentless. I had to make Emma cum.

I reached down and picked her up, tossing her onto a chest-high stack of gymnastics mats. She landed toward the middle with a thump and a surprised giggle, and I immediate put my hands on her thighs, pulled her ass to the edge, and spread her legs wide. I could feel her eyes on my face as I looked at her sopping wet pussy for a moment, and then I dove in.

She put her hands on my head at first, but then lay back, keeping one hand in my hair but moving the other to her breast. I buried my face into her. I licked her opening and sucked the labia into my mouth. I pressed my whole face in. I pushed my tongue as deep as I could and then licked upward, pressing it flat against her clit and massaging in circles.

She tasted so good. So sweet. I drank her. I sucked her into my mouth. I sucked her clit hard and then returned to her opening to keep drinking her. I wanted her to cum, but I couldn't maintain a rhythm to get her there methodically. I was frantic with longing to taste and eat and lick and suck and push my face into her pussy and drink, in every order, all at the same time.

I had no discipline. Only the need to worship her every way that I could.

I had my hands on either side of her pussy and I was spreading her open, licking deep, and intermittently sucking her clit into my mouth hard. Lying on her back, I saw her move her fingers to her chin, then her mouth, reminding herself that my cum was all over her, tasting me yet again.

The instinct to make my rhythm more consistent - to press my tongue hard and lick upwards across her clit over and over in steady, rough caresses - came to me at the same time that my hard-on returned to full stature. I had cum minutes ago, but I was ready again, rock hard, with my tongue pressing her clit and my fingers dipping inside her.

I raised one hand from the side of her pussy upward to stretch the skin away from her clit, giving it greater contact with my tongue. With the other hand I slid two fingers into her, twisting in the opening, creating friction on all sides.

I pushed in deep with my fingers until her reaction told me I had found her g-spot, and then kept my fingers deep and rubbed the tips back and forth across it. At the same time I kept pressure on her clit with my tongue and began to move in circles, letting her hand in my hair guide the rhythm.

Her orgasm built steadily, like a juggernaut. Like a falling bomb.

I kept up all the pressure everywhere. I exerted myself. I kept pressing hard with my tongue, pushing in hard with my fingers, sucking her, drinking her, feeling her, loving her.

She exploded.

She came hard, with my fingers inside her, with my mouth on her pussy, with my cum on her face, with me in the storage room.

It lasted several minutes. Wave after wave of bliss washed over her, gushing liquid into my mouth, screaming promises into my ears, bucking wildly, pulling my hair, squeezing my head between her thighs, and I didn't stop.

She convulsed, and sighed, and when it was complete, she gently pushed my face away. I looked up at her and smiled, and she looked down at me and smiled, and shook her head in some kind of expression of happy disbelief.

She sat up and held my head in her arms, my cheek pressed against her belly. My cock was hard and aching to be inside her but I knew it was over.

We said some words, but I don't need to repeat them here. They were meaningless in the larger context. It was over, and so we just said some nice things to each other in this distracted way, knowing it was over. Knowing it was over made those words meaningless.

She used my towel to wipe herself off and we both exited the storage room and went our separate ways. We would see each other in two weeks.

In two weeks, things would be different.

***

She came back from Venice and she was more committed. I guess if things had gone badly in Venice I might have still had a chance, but they went extremely well. He was the right man for her. I knew I wasn't, at least not in this life, but it still made me want to cry.

I tried at first, to get it going again. I guess if I have to be honest here, I've tried ever since to get it going again. But the time since I was last with her, and what happened between them during that time solidified it. It was over, and it stayed over for the next two years.

Some parts of us took longer to die than others. We didn't touch, but we talked about things. I told her I loved her a few more times, and at first it affected her so deeply and I would see torment on her face... but then it just seemed to stop affecting her.

She told me she fell into a serious depression for a while.

She didn't say it was because of me, but she told me because it was because of me.

Even so, it seemed more like it was the remorse that caused the depression, rather than the fact that we couldn't be together. She never told me she loved me.

I tried to make her get over the guilt. She would talk about trust and I would talk about passion.

"There's a fine line between trusting a lover, and underestimating the size of their libido."

"You've said that before." She was not impressed.

I had said it before. I'm so full of shit.

***

I made one last move to try and regain my moments with her. I wrote "A Glorious Tease, Ch. 2." We ended gradually enough that she agreed to read it, though we hadn't touched in a month from when she left for Venice.

I don't really remember what she told me about chapter two. I remember what I thought she would think.