Emma Gets Booked and Hooked

Here it came, the moment of truth, perhaps. One part of her brain was screaming, 'God, yes, I'd love to see your swish successful author's pad. Love to lie naked in your arms on silken sheets, feel your hardness against my thigh.' But a weak sensibility prevailed as she told him, "i don't think that would be a good idea. Not yet."

His smile was warm, and showed no disappointment as he said, "Do you have your car somewhere near?"

She told him that she commuted into the city every day. "Too much hassle on the roads in. But it does mean getting up early."

"I don't like the idea of you riding the tube at this time of night. Too many dodgy characters."

"I've done it a few times," Emma replied, but had to admit to herself that she wasn't too keen on late night travel.

"Please, let me pay for a cab to get you back to Enfield."

"I couldn't—"

He took hold of her hands, "Let me, please. Having found you I don't want to risk-" He leaned forward and planted a swift kiss on her forehead. "—anything happening to you."

"Like happened to Emily?" she quipped, and immediately regretted it, as his face fell. A further brief argument, and he had hailed a cab for her. He went round to pay the driver, and when he returned he said, "Fixed. I'll call you tomorrow. And, Emma—" His eyes were warm on hers, "—I'm so pleased you refused my offer earlier. You were right."

Emma's head was in a whirl. Surely it couldn't be this straightforward? The touch of his hands on hers, the gesture of that kiss on her forehead, his declaration of worrying about her, all of these things, plus the sheer pleasure of his company were completely breaking down her resistance. More than ever the desire to have him holding her intimately once again was overwhelming.

By the time of their third date she had just about made her mind up about what the next step would be, and it would be her step. In their earlier relationship every move they made, from the taking of her virginity to their last night together, had been instigated by Brad. Emma was determined that this time any progress would be of her volition.

That third date was very simple. A meal, a stroll, and much laughter, mixed with more intimate conversation. More intimate with regard to the subject matter, her marriage and other errors, and his longest affair, lasting a dull two years, alongside various one or two night stands. Over the excellent meal of spiced lamb, these subjects were broached, but it was afterwards, as they strolled along the busy South Bank, and Emma felt Brad's hand close around hers, that more details were revealed.

"Larry always seemed more concerned with himself and his own pleasures," Emma admitted."And I was sure from early on that there were other women."

"He must have been crazy"

Emma appreciated that comment, and more so when he said, "I found no one who could-give me the buzz that I once got from you."

Feeling much bolder, she then asked him, "How long is it since your last -er—encounter"

"With a woman-?" His lips twisted as he thought about that,"—oh, it must be four or five months. You?" And he laughed as he added, "With a man."

Sharing the laugh she told him, honestly, "About a year." Even as she said it she was thinking, 'Is it any wonder I'm desperate to be in his arms again?"

For this evening her father had told her that he would be in the city, and said he would give her a lift home, if she was on Westminster Bridge at 10.30. At 10.20 they stood and exchanged warm kisses under the bridge.

"Feels good," Emma murmured breathlessly, and Brad agreed, his hand lingering on the side of her left breast. Emma was half-tempted to twist her body to move his hand across. Burying the thought she said quickly, "We should get up there to meet my Dad. But before we do can I ask you if you'd fancy risking me cooking you a meal on Saturday?"

"Not my apartment?" He knows we're not far off something, Emma thought.

"I want to be on home ground," she said with a grin.

"Certainly sounds appealing-but-"

"But?" she asked anxiously, 'buts' were always ominous.

A smile creased his face. "I'll need to know your address."

They laughed together and kissed once more before Emma said, "Until Saturday then. Seven. say?"

Driving homewards her father commented, "Seems like a presentable sort of bloke. An author, you say?"

"Yes," Emma said, and suddenly thought of how she was going to break the details of that to her mother when the time came. Might she then link the events in the book to her daughter? It was a risk Emma would have to take.

Saturday seemed that it would never come, and when it did arrive, each hour dragged interminably. This, in spite of keeping herself busy, by purchasing ingredients for the meal, preparing the meal, lasagne, backed by a Greek salad, and minted baby potatoes. Mid afternoon she took a long hot shower, spent ages on her hair, with just a subtle curl upwards where it reached her shoulders but which, she hoped, would eventually be wildly mussed.

Her choice of what to wear took further mixed thinking. The bed became scattered with low cut blouses, cotton skirts, and various sleeveless summer dresses. Ease of accessibility was the key. Tonight she was determined to be Madam Seductress.

Then it was bra or no bra. She stood in front of the mirror and viewed her naked breasts. Not bad for a thirty five year old, but a bra might be sensible. Just a shade of cleavage, in a summer dress of thin pastel blue cotton that buttoned up the front, seemed ideal.

Dressed, and standing in front of the mirror again, she knew she was cunningly exposed, and when she unfastened that top button, she saw that the exact required effect was achieved. Emma gave herself a look of mock disapproval, as she thought of how, just over a week ago she had been a distinct man-hater (Brad), now, here she was an obvious man-trap (also Brad). Blame hormones, libido, whatever, tonight she wanted to pleasure him and be pleasured.

She checked the food, reset the table in the dining room, and generally messed about wishing the minutes away. A sudden after-thought had her dashing back upstairs to place that black and yellow backed book on the bedside table. Why? She had no idea. At five to seven she was standing back from the living room window, able to look out towards the street without being too obvious.

At precisely seven o'clock, a large dark car pulled up at her gate, and within seconds she was watching Brad, in open necked green shirt, his jacket slung casually over his shoulder, striding up her drive. She couldn't fail to see that he was clutching a bouquet in his other hand.

Already she was breathless, as she hurried to open the door. Brad stood there looking, for all the world, like some advertising model for men's products. But it was the way he looked her up and down that thrilled Emma, as she took the offered bunch of yellow roses from him and placed them on the hall table. He stepped inside and dropped his jacket onto a chair.

"Emma, you look—so—beautiful. " He shook his head, "Is that a corny word?"

"It'll do," she said, and as he spread his arms to envelope her, she moved towards him eagerly. They stood there clinging together, and for Emma it signalled a farewell to time lost.

Standing back, Emma asked, "Hungry?"

"Very," he said, so fervently that Emma hoped it wasn't just the food that was on his mind..

Emma led him into the dining room, and Brad remarked, "Your house is lovely."

"My part of the settlement," she told him.

The meal went well, and Brad was quick to praise her cooking.

From across the table Emma gave him what she hoped was a lascivious smile, "I'll bet a good meal is all you came for."

"Wrong," he said, and the look he returned was equally bold as he stated frankly, "What I hoped to gain was access to something that I have been deprived of for fifteen years."

Eyes locked together for only a moment, before they were both out of their chairs, and stumbling to crash against each other at the end of the table. Their lips meshed and their tongues tangled. Emma was aware of Brad's hands stroking her bare arms and shoulders, as her hands rode up and down his back. They were pressed too close for any frontal touches, but Emma, almost lost in the power of their kiss, was very aware of his hardness against her belly, and her increased moistening.

Longing for a conclusion she found the strength to pull away, and whisper huskily, "Should we try to make it upstairs?"

His head nodded as he smiled at her, and said, "If we can slow things down."

"If-" she agreed, as, arms about each other they mounted the stairs. As they climbed she could not resist making the comparison. "Not that many days ago, I was hating you."

"I'm not surprised. You might not believe me, but it was terribly hard to write that book"

They had reached the landing and Emma pushed open the second door. "There are two bedrooms with en suite," she told him as they moved through the doorway. "This one has no ghosts in it."

"Home ground," he observed, with a wide smile. "Slow and easy."

His hands immediately began working on the buttons of her dress, while she, feeling that the heat of a few minutes ago had eased just a little, unfastened his shirt. Simultaneously they shrugged the garments away. As her bra disappeared Brad's eyes were gentle laser beams on her breasts. He hadn't touched her, yet his eyes on her had set small flares sparking throughout her body, as she fiddled with the buckle of his belt.

Brad reached for the elastic of her panties. His fingers had to touch the skin of her hips and belly to ease them down. Emma's moistness down there was unbearable. Already she wanted that fifteen year delayed entry, as she pulled at his pants and shorts together.

And there they were, naked, as they had been so often, and so long ago. Brad's chest was more muscular than she remembered, and his erection appeared bigger than she expected.

"Emma," he said quietly, making the first solid physical contact, by clutching her shoulders, "this may seem rapid but please understand my frustration." With that Emma found herself being turned and lowered back onto the bed, and almost in the same motion he was over her, and his solid penis was ploughing up into her hot wetness.

She was about to tell him how good it felt, but his lips came down on hers, and his kiss, like the movement of his penis inside her, had a note of desperation about it. Yet, in spite of his ungentlemanly haste, Emma could not stop herself from responding madly to his pelvic thrusts and to the searching of his tongue. It was only seconds, before she felt him coming inside her. He broke the kiss to heave himself deeper into her, as he grunted, gasped and tried to mouth what sounded like words of gratitude.

Emma knew she should be feeling used, but what had just happened, although she had not reached anywhere near a climax, had filled her with a surprising gladness. Brad was here in her arms, inside her, although slipping back now, and she just knew there was more and better to come. In her heart, she was telling herself, that she had accepted this because Brad needed it. The consolation was that she, and only she, was his need.

He rolled to one side and Emma was aware of his flaccid wetness sliding over her thigh. "I hope you can forgive me for that. I actually feared at one point that I would come before I could get inside you. Just looking at you, your wonderful body, set me throbbing. "

"Nothing to forgive, Brad. And it was good for me, too." Emma knew only the truth would work between them now. "Maybe I was a little surprised at your speed. You always had such good control."

He sat up and his honest face looked down at her, "But it has been a long frustration," he told her. "Fifteen years without an adequate response. Without the only one I've ever wanted."

Emma reached up and drew his face down to hers and they kissed long and gently. When they broke, he said, "I want to make it all up to you. Go and get a shower and I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."

What a strange request! Laughing she sat up, "Will my taking a shower make a difference?"

Half laughing, he pulled a mock disgusted face, and gave her a gentle nudge, "Away with you. I can't stand sweaty women."

"And what about sweaty men?"

"After you."

She went and showered thoroughly, wondering what he had in mind, with that offer she couldn't refuse? Out and dried, she splashed some perfumed lotion over her skin before returning to find him standing, as naked as some ancient Greek athlete. He held her briefly at arms length and said, "Don't let this sweaty man, soil you. Just lie back and think of England. God, you smell delicious, as well as looking wonderful." Then he was gone and within seconds she heard the shower hissing.

Emma lay with her head against the padded head board, and within five minutes, he was back, cool and looking so in charge as he kneeled alongside her, his penis, Emma noticed, already half raised.

"Now, what was this offer that I can't refuse," she asked teasingly.

"What I'm offering is this," he said, and he brought his face close to hers as he asked. "Do you remember what I did when we had that session on a blanket on the beach?"

Inside, Emma was trembling with expectation, but decided to play along with this game. "On the beach? Oh, dear, it was fifteen years ago. Did you skinny dip? No, not that. Did you pretend to be Donald Duck? No, it wasn't that"

Brad shook his head in exasperation, and reached towards the bedside table where the book lay. "God, I'll have to read it out to you."

Laughing, Emma grabbed his arm, "I know exactly what you did. Although it took the book to remind me."

"You forgot? Really?"

This was not the time to afford him any hurt, so she said, "Only some of the details are important."

"So? Want to refuse?"

Still in slightly teasing mood, Emma slid down the bed, "Not if you promise to take me as high as you say you did in the book."

Brad shook his head in despair but then kissed her warmly, and his left hand slid over and around her right breast. That one movement started an extra small spark deep inside her. Their tongues favoured each other for a long time before, his lips moved over her eyes, to the side of her head, and his tongue tickled inside her ear, making Emma jerk with some delight.

Brad's lips moved down the side of her neck, and back again, repeating the action so that Emma's face tingled. Tongue and lips caressed over her shoulders, along her collar bone, and the sensuous promise mounted as Brad brought his tongue trailing down onto her breasts, while his hand moved away downwards, stroking over her belly. Emma was sure she would melt in the fire of the sensations he evoked.

That hand sliding across and around her belly, a circling of electronic delight, that her senses, given his tongue and lips sucking over her nipples, were in a tangle. Threads of electric impulse were attached from those points to her internal vaginal zone, where her moisture waited to lubricate his entry.

Moving lower, his hand stroked over her pubic mound, riffling through the hair, dipping into the beginning of the groove. Emma's breathing quickened. Longing to have her hands on him, she could only ruffle his hair as his head remained near her breasts. His erection, where she longed to reciprocate some of this pleasure, was way out of reach. But she knew, as her brain threw up the long locked away memory of the beach incident, that she was set to simply succumb to Brad's attentions.

Briefly, his lips left her breasts and his mouth came up to kiss her warmly, as he murmured, "Thank you, Emma."

Emma was panting, and wondering how he could be thanking her when it was she who was taking all the pleasure. His hand moved out along her upper thigh, and instinctively, her thighs parted, and the hand smoothed over the delicate skin there. Knee to crotch, and back again. Over and over, and on each upward caress, the edge of his hand touched her labia more deeply, until, on one stroke, his hand remained pressed against those lips, and fingers curled gently into her moistness, and Emma heard herself gasp at the sheer expectation of what was so near.

By now, her whole vaginal passage was pulsing for satisfaction, and when his fingers moved directly onto her clitoris she couldn't prevent her lower body from wriggling against his hand. She was aflame with his touch, yet knew there was a greater ecstasy to come, as his mouth left her breasts and licked and kissed down over her belly, as Brad slipped his body further down the bed. He had positioned his body for what was a magical exchange.

Without any warning, his fingers left her clitoris, and both hands moved up to clutch her breasts, to be immediately replaced by Brad's face, his lips and tongue, burrowing into her wetness. His tongue ploughed around her vagina entrance before settling onto her erect clitoris.

Emma found herself on the edge of something beyond exquisite, Her hips heaved against his face, as one of his hands left her breast and returned down to finger at her opening. The hand spread, so that, while one finger was entering her vagina, the other stealthily moved back to cover and poke at her anus. It was a sensation that Emma had never known before. Her whole body screamed for fulfilment. Her vaginal passage was a lift shaft that she must have filled, her anus squeezed around his finger. This body of hers was no longer in her control. Sensations were pouring in and nerve ends were straining. Desperately she managed a bleating, ""Oh, Brad—Brad," as her climax started.

As though awaiting her call, Brad slid quickly up and over her body to feed his pounding penis into the desperately hungry mouth of her vagina. And that hot rod, rushing up Emma's eager shaft, was immense, filling her in the way she had craved for so long. Brad's erection must have struck at her cervix on his every thrust, but when he withdrew, each time, she crazily reached down between their compressed bellies, just to touch the hardness of him.

She was in a frenzied state for a long time, it seemed, as Brad ploughed up into her time and again, each thrust more powerful, more mind-blowing than the one before. Then he gave a final massive heave lifting her buttocks clear of the bed, and with a sense of joy she knew that he was ejaculating, pulse after pulse after pulse.

Both panting, and breathless they lay calming, and Emma was only sorry to feel Brad limply slip out of her.

"That was—" she began.

"Quite nice?" he queried, his perspiring face grinning down at her.

She punched his arm lightly, "You know what it was."

"Did I please you?"

"You mean you couldn't tell?" And they laughed together.

Brad rolled off her and they lay silent for a moment. Emma couldn't help thinking of how they had lost fifteen years of this magic, but now she so desperately needed to know that this would go on.

"Better than when it happened on the beach?" Brad asked lightly.

"I had forgotten the details of most things-so yes, it had to be."

"You really forgot."

Time for honesty. "Deliberately, Brad. I had to banish those lovely memories or I might have killed myself."

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

He put his hand over hers, and it was comforting. "Your book brought so much of it back to me."

"It was meant to."

A sudden thought struck her, "There was something we did that wasn't in the book. Do you remember what that might have been?" she asked mischievously, sitting up and looking down at him.

"There were a few things," he said doubtfully.

"Think we should clean up?" she said, sliding off the bed. "Then it might come back to you."

Emma left him lying there, enjoying the puzzled look on his face. She hurried through to the en suite and turned on the bath taps. As the water flowed, she added a little bubble liquid, as Brad came in, naked, and Emma couldn't help noticing , and hoping that his penis wasn't as flaccid as it might have been.