See Emily Play

"Anything?"

"Yes, sweetheart, anything."

"Even after today?"

"Sure, baby."

"Ok so let's see now. How about I have her do all the chores around here and I don't have to lift a finger?"

"Goes without saying, sweetheart. Princesses don't do chores."

"Excellent. But does that include more personal type chores? Like, for example, what if I want her to paint my toenails?"

"Course!"

"Or more than that, actually. She can assist me when I'm getting ready for a date with a man, can't she, is what I'm thinking."

"So that's every night then, gorgeous, yeah?"

"Ha ha ha. Probably. So Petra can do my nails, sure, but also other stuff. Like, she can get my clothes ready, help me dress, do my hair, put lotion on me, spray perfume in a few places, just generally make me look and smell as scrumptious as can be for my hot date!"

"Ha ha ha. Love it, Em!"

"And she can help out when I'm actually with a man. You know, when I come back from my date and bring him home to bed."

"How do you mean exactly?"

"Well, like you know what Danny said about Petra kissing his cock before he sticks it in me and then sniffing it afterwards?"

"Ha ha ha. Yeah."

"Ok so that's great. I love that. But perhaps sometimes I allow her to be a little more active when I bring a hunky guy home."

"More active? Not gonna have mercy and let her get any actual cock, Emily, are you?"

"Ha ha ha. No way. But she can help me enjoy it, can't she? Like, once I've got my handsome lover all nice and hard Petra can use her hand to guide his large dick into my warm slippery cunt. Then she can stand by and watch me get fucked senseless."

"You're such a bitch, Em! Brilliant!"

"Isn't it. Gets better though. When he's finished fucking me Petra has to bow and scrape and thank him for doing it, for pleasuring the sexy princess, and then when she's seen him out, helped him into his coat and stuff and said goodbye, she can make my bed, generally tidy up the place, then she can accompany me to the bathroom and attend my shower, get down on her knees in there and see to my intimate parts, wash my ass, give my soiled and battered cunt a good soaping, make sure that I'm all lovely and fresh again just in case, you know, another gorgeous looking man stops by and wants to make wild passionate love to me. See what I mean?"

Paul and Danny are killing themselves. Took a while before either could speak.

It's turning me on no end fantasizing like this (I kept thinking about it once we got fucking!) and the guys know it is. They've been fingering me the whole time we've been talking and I'm sopping wet!

But that's all it is, of course, fantasy. Like, there's no way I'd be as horrible to Petra as that.

I mean, fuck's sake.

I'm not a monster.

***

Ok.

That's a true story.

In a way I wish it wasn't, since I realize it doesn't reflect too well on me, but I'm afraid it is. That is what happened and it's more or less how it happened.

Not in every single detail. I have made it considerably more wicked and salacious than it truly was. I didn't plan things quite so cold-bloodedly, for example, and I didn't do the strip poker trick, and we didn't do and say all that sick stuff the following morning, but the essence of it is faithful to the reality.

In my first term at college I did share a room with an older girl (let's stick with 'P') who was a good deal less attractive and sexually experienced than me. Perhaps not quite a virgin, I made that up, but close.

And we did hit this bar one evening and got talking to two handsome young guys, who I knew both fancied me rotten although one was pretending hard to like P.

And yes we did invite them back with us, to our room, where we all got drunk on cheap wine and inhibitions flew out the window, then one thing led to another and before too long I was getting seriously hit on by both the boys and poor P was being totally ignored.

At which stage I should have called a halt to proceedings, I know I should. But I didn't. I was actually enjoying the situation. Getting a perverse pleasure from how these two dishy guys were into me and not my roommate, how they were both hell bent on seducing me.

So, heart of the matter, poor P crawled off to bed alone and I ended up sleeping with the two guys, shagging them both in my bed right next to hers.

And I enjoyed that too. Not just the sex, which I obviously loved, but the fact that here I was getting bedded by two gorgeous boys while she was stewing there in lonely isolation, just a few feet away, hearing everything and no doubt feeling insanely jealous.

Why did I get a kick from it? I'm not at all certain. I think it was probably that I was insecure at 19 despite the fact that I was so pretty. So this whole kind of sordid episode was providing me with an ego boost, a confirmation of just how appealing I was to the opposite sex.

Anyway, whatever, I behaved like an utter bitch. That's the point.

You're perhaps wondering what came next.

Well, you'll be surprised.

I said how we didn't really do any of that rather vile mocking of poor P on the morning after, didn't I?

Ok, so we didn't. What actually occurred was that my two conquests got up early, whispered goodbye to me, and they were long gone by the time that me and P awoke properly.

There was an atmosphere between us at first, me and my roommate, but we had a clear-the-air chat about things and I apologized and she ended up just laughing about it. She was great.

We decided amicably that we weren't compatible to share digs, since I'd want to be partying, bringing guys home, all of that, whereas P was more into her studies and a quiet life.

So we split in that sense (I moved out a few days later) but in another sense we didn't, because we stayed in touch and in fact became very good friends right the way through university. Mixed in different circles, did different things, but always enjoyed each other's company. Perhaps it's because we were such opposites that it worked so well.

We're still friends now, almost 20 years later. Our lives have diverged radically and we don't hook up much (we live hundreds of miles apart) but we do manage to get together sporadically.

Last time was a couple of months ago, in fact. I happened to be on business in the city where P lives and I had a little downtime so I called her and we met up.

We had drinks and then dinner and it was a blast. P got married just late last year and she brought Malcolm along, the first time I'd met her hubby and so that was nice. Really sweet guy.

Only slightly awkward aspect of the evening (and it was quite awkward) was Malcolm taking way more interest in my cleavage than a man ought to do when his wife is around. It got more and more obvious as the night went on. By the time we were in the restaurant and halfway through our main course the poor guy seemed almost transfixed. It was pretty embarrassing because P most definitely noticed, although she was pretending furiously otherwise.

And ok I must own up to a touch of 'mea culpa' about the situation, and more specifically about poor Malcolm's inability to stop drooling at my breasts. I had a very racy dress on and I guess the dangerously plunging neckline wasn't at all appropriate for this particular occasion. I really should have chosen something else, shouldn't I, given I knew perfectly well that P's new husband would be joining us.

Can't think why I didn't.

LOL.