She looked still enough to be dead, though he knew she must be sleeping, but then he was afraid she might be weeping softly. Her hair was in disarray, spread out over the table. He thought of warm, thick blood oozing from a wound to the head, making a puddle. He imagined a thunderous row and a blow to the skull. David had always frightened him. His personality wasn’t frightening, it was more his great, physical presence. Jason shrank from him. And yet here he was, peering through the man’s window. Emma sanctioned Jason’s behaviour. The responsibility was not his. It was Emma’s.
His primary fear was of being caught by his parents. His heart beat more regularly now that he had escaped soundlessly from his home. He tapped lightly on the window, so lightly he failed to make a sound. The lit room gave him pause. Could David be up? He had been watching her for at least fifteen minutes. Time hung heavily. But he couldn’t open the door, he wouldn’t even try the handle to see if it was unlocked.
Quite unexpectedly Emma moved. Jason flinched and ducked. Then he waited a mere moment and raised himself slowly and peeked over the sill. Emma’s head was still down but she was wiping her mouth. She lifted herself ever so slowly and proceeded to rub her eyes. Her hair was everywhere. Jason suddenly saw the funny side of her falling asleep. He smiled as he watched Emma come to realise what she had done. She spun around to see the time on the microwave and then her eyes flew to the door. When she turned to the window Jason saw her jump in fright, then smile and beckon him in. Her face had such a muddled, sleepy expression.
Jason made his way to the door and opened it. He now beckoned Emma.
She walked over to him.
‘What?’ she asked in her normal voice. Jason cringed and raised his forefinger to his lips, the international sign of shush! Emma threw him a very cheeky smile and said in a louder than normal voice, ‘Why should I be quiet, Jason? What’s the matter?’
The young man had sprung from his position at the door to the safety of the shadows. Now Emma was laughing. She went to the door and called out to him, ‘Jason! Jason! Whereforarthoujason?’
Out in the shadows Jason was dying a thousand deaths. Had Emma gone mad? Was this a trap? The delight on her face seemed cruel. Emma could still see him, hiding though he was. He hadn’t run home.
‘Why do you run from me, Jason?’
‘Be quiet, Emma,’ he hissed.
‘But why? I don’t understand. Come and give me a kiss, you young stud. Come inside.’
Jason was sure David was awake now and listening. He almost felt, in the morgue-like silence of suburbia, as though Emma’s voice could wake the whole neighbourhood. He was appalled.
Emma was just having a bit of fun at the boy’s expense. She was well aware that David would not be woken by noises or voices in the night. She was certain of it. He may wake to go to the loo. He may wake realising she was not asleep beside her, but he wouldn’t wake at the sound of her voice or voices. As horrible as having to explain herself to David would be, or worse still, having to explain herself to Jason’s parents, the promise of this moment made her willing to take risks. The thrill spoke in a clear simple language her whole body could understand.
But poor Jason hadn’t a clue. He was expecting the worst. His knees might have been knocking together out there like some cartoon character. She hoped they were. She wanted him on high alert.
If the truth be known, Emma had little idea of what she was going to do with Jason. That afternoon had been one of the most deliciously frustrating of her entire sexual life. Sending him home, postponing pleasure, denying herself gratification was exciting. But she could not hold out indefinitely. When she had made the call to him she was calling as one sexual adult to another. She wanted for Jason to come over and fulfil the promise of the afternoon. The cup had spilled over and her desire had been unchecked.
But now, her blood having cooled, she was once more in control and saw Jason for what he was, a young, inexperienced lover. He wasn’t capable of taking her the way she had wanted. But he was capable. That afternoon’s play had uncovered much. Emma was surprised by her feelings for him. His purity, his gentle spirit, his naked, candid ardour had enticed a like response from her. She had felt such tenderness for him, a tenderness which warmed her from within. She had reached a point where every part of Jason was desirable, where the shape of his knee, the minute hairs on the back of his hands, his moist, warm breath were all magnified, and hypnotically absorbing.
‘Come on in, Jason,’ she whispered, holding out her hand for him to take. She knew she would have to coax him in now that she had had her fun.
The poor boy hesitated. Emma stepped out into the backyard. The damp grass was spongy and her soft bare feet sank into it voluptuously. The natural sensuality of each step stimulated her senses and wakened her entirely from her unscheduled nap. She was reminded of Jason’s kisses to her foot.
She stopped on the way to him and looked up at the half moon. The cool grass chilled her body, enlivening her. She wished to take off her clothes, the yoga pants which hung lazily to her hips, under which was nothing, and the hastily thrown on hooded sweatshirt. She had planned to dress for Jason, but her failure to do so had relinquished her of her responsibility to the program. What program? Hadn’t this afternoon taught her anything?
Emma was feeling that feeling we all experience from time to time, of being utterly and unmistakably alive. Now she wanted to be naked. She was dimly aware that being so would propel her along the road with Jason further than she intended to go. But the feeling was overwhelming and being naked seemed so right and lovely on this moonlit midnight.
She looked across at Jason who had stepped out from his hiding place in the shadows of the azaleas. He was dressed as he was that afternoon. The light from the kitchen cast a soft glow over his features. His eyes were hungry for her, his lips were parted slightly, expectant, and he stood poised for action, fight or flight. She knew he could be up and over that fence to his left in one quick muscular moment. She had frightened him but the hunger remained in his eyes, the hunger that had caused him to defy his parents and David. His eyes were fixed upon her own now. She felt his desire.
Let him have me, she thought.
Under the light of the half moon in the middle of her back garden, near midnight, on the cool grass, in the crisp night air with her boy lover looking at her with a great, deep physical yearning, Emma recognised her true nature and with no thought given to her plans, lifted the light sweatshirt over her head. Before Jason had time to do or say anything, she dropped her yoga pants and stepped out of them and stood, for the first time, completely naked before him.
Emma closed her eyes and raised her hands above her head as the night air wrapped itself around her, thrilling her with its cool touch. Opening her eyes she seemed to salute the moon before looking back to her lover who was, understandably, elated at this sudden change in her.
He made no move to her though. She stood watching him, trying to keep his eyes on hers, but with no success. His roamed over her, shooting up to her face for reassurance, then leaving it to run amok over the length and slight breadth of her lovely body. His palpable excitement was so arousing to Emma. She’d never experienced the like.
Men move so swiftly. The boy drank her down in great gulps for he believed the cup was bottomless, that her beauty was bottomless. Men assume too much. To some of them, one woman is much like another, and in their haste they forget to look, really look, before taking her in their arms. But dear Jason knew nothing. He didn’t know whether in a moment’s time Emma would dress and kiss him goodnight. He didn’t know if he’d ever see her naked again. He knew nothing of her body, and wanted to know, but felt time was slipping away and so took her in greedily. The more he looked at her the more beautiful she became, the more he desired her, the more he wanted this moment to last. Still he stood metres from her and made no move towards her.
Emma couldn’t move either. The pressure of his gaze held her firmly to the spot. True, she wanted to be touched,
she wanted to be kissed, she wanted to be held, but this new experience was compelling. She felt shy before his eyes and was blushing in the moonlight.
Finally he took a step. His eyes kept her standing still. He didn’t step towards her, he stepped to the side and began to circle her ever so slowly. The night air was chilling but the warmth of her body’s burning pride was countering it. He made her feel the most beautiful woman in the world. The feeling for her was one of overwhelming happiness, extraordinary pride and warm arousal. Her whole body was tingling, her nipples stood erect, she was very wet and warm between her legs. She was aware of every part of her body; her skin was violently alive to each sensation from within and without.
His gaze left marks upon her. He had made his way behind her now and she could feel his eyes as they wandered up and down the length of her. She felt them cup her butt. She wanted to bend over for him, to expose to him one area he had little chance of seeing as she stood. But his eyes seemed, even now, to keep her upright and still.
As Jason completed his circle of admiration he came very close to her side. She kept her eyes forward and let him bring his mouth to her neck. He was behind her now. The warmth of his body was against her, sending a chill through her, giving her goose bumps. She could actually sense his hesitation. To touch or not to touch, the poor boy seemed to ask.
FIFTEEN
Emma was delighted by his hesitation, showing him still firmly enthralled by her, physically and mentally. He respected her, and admired her and, it must be said, feared her. Not only was her body new to him, mesmerising and desirable, but her mind kept him fascinated and wanting more. Teach me, his actions seemed to say. Lead me by the hand.
Disturbing her thoughts, Jason spoke in a breathless murmur.
‘Every part of you … Emma. Thank you. You are so beautiful,’ he managed to say, before leaning forward and resting his lips lightly on the nape of her neck. Again a moan escaped her. She closed her eyes. She felt one hand cup her breast and the other warm moist hand rest on her bottom, lightly at first then gripping her more forcefully. His fingers teased her nipple very gently, it might have been his mouth. His kisses on her neck grew more heated and Emma leant against his mouth and gave way to him.
He took her in his arms at long last, and spun her round to face him. The heat from his body met her cool skin and she shuddered against him. He lifted his mouth from her neck and turned his eyes upon hers before kissing her mouth with warm open lips.
His hands took the place of his eyes and roamed up and down her back, caressing her gently till they reached her bottom which seemed to encourage more enthusiastic caresses. Both of his strong hands kneaded her, a cheek each, while their mouths were pressed together, their tongues meeting again and again in lovely embraces.
Emma’s arms were around him but soon they came between them and, throwing caution to the wind, she began unbuttoning his jeans. There was no mistaking his desire for her; she felt him hard against her. She wanted to release him, to take him in her hands, to feel the warmth of him against her naked body.
She paused in her attempts to unbutton him, thinking it more urgent to do away with his t-shirt. She lifted it up. They broke their kiss and he stepped back and lifted the shirt over his head. He let it drop to the grass, seizing her again, his naked chest against her breasts. Her hands were not to be denied though. They forced their way between them and undid that top button at last. The other buttons, happy to oblige, sprang open jubilantly. The hipless Jason hindered gravity not at all and so these jeans fell about his ankles immediately.
Emma now had no reservations about taking the boy in hand, but she did like to enjoy herself. His kisses became even more ardent, seeming to suggest she might like to run speedily on to her object. He pressed himself against her hand to reiterate. But Emma could feel the long, thick shaft of Jason’s painfully erect penis well enough through the light cotton weave of his boxer shorts. She knew, from that first day, how easily she might have him reaching orgasm. She knew too that since that first day she had not once given him the same pleasure. In fact Emma had regretted being so obliging that first day and this was why now she again paused on the brink.
She took hold of his shaft through the boxer shorts, that much she would do. She felt it pulsate under her grip. She even stroked it once. Jason jolted. His kisses stopped and he stared at her. She squeezed hard. She sensed the onrush of the orgasm. She let go.
She suddenly thought better of herself.
‘Don’t move,’ she demanded of him, before rushing into the house.
Jason stood near naked, as naked as he was that day he came in search of his tennis ball. He looked about him for the first time since Emma had disrobed. He was startled by the audacity of them both, as if he was not one of them. He could see the back of his parents’ house, but no windows. He looked to the other neighbour, no windows could be seen there either. But when he checked Emma’s house there were four darkened windows upstairs facing him and the dark windows of the back room and the lit windows of the kitchen. David might be watching him now.
The kitchen lights went off.
Emma came out of the darkness carrying two rugs. She felt so cheeky rushing around nude in his presence. This was her backyard. They were her deckchairs. Her husband was asleep upstairs, she’d run up to check on him. She held the rugs to her body and took a look at her young lover. He made her feel so naughty, so excited and hungry. She knew what she would do now and she could hardly wait. She kissed Jason and then threw down one of the rugs on the grass.
‘Lie down, beautiful boy,’ she said, as she knelt on the rug. ‘Are you cold?’
‘No,’ he replied, and he did as he was told.
He lay down on his back. The moon became hidden by the large gum tree and he saw the immensity of space lit by a million stars. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, he didn’t know what to do at all. But he had little time to worry as Emma knew what to do. She lay her naked body on his and kissed the boy, deeply.
Jason now knew what to do. He took her head between his hands and messed with her thick dark hair, while holding her to his mouth.
Emma writhed over him, rubbing herself against him, his boxers still on, feeling his hard cock pressing against her, lifting herself up above its head and then resting her wet pussy against it.
Jason started. The warmth and softness, not to say wetness, was the first he knew of it and yet he knew it unmistakably. He thrust upwards slightly and she yielded to him. Was this to be it then? he asked himself, forgetting he was still wearing his boxer shorts. Emma’s wetness had dampened his shorts so that it felt to both of them there was no impediment to further adventuring.
Emma ground down on him and he up against her. Both were lost now. There would be no going back. The pleasure felt, the closeness of their bodies, the hunger being fed, their kisses, deep and long, and his hands, his hands pressing against her head, rubbing her head, caressing her hair – no restraint now.
Emma broke from his kiss and looked into his eyes, saying, ‘Be good now.’ She started to kiss his chest, the soft young skin stretched across his developing pecs. She took in a nipple, teasing it, arousing a moan from him, biting it and then moving to the other. She found that both were very sensitive – she did like a man whose nipples were sensitive. Flicking his nipples and grinding on his hard-on was enough for her, but Jason continued to let his hands roam through her hair. She loved that. She could just lie still and have him do it, but knowing his hands were marking time with his pressing desire was even more pleasurable.
Emma’s breasts hung freely, her head down, back bent, butt firmly placed, knees gripping him and her hips grinding her pussy against the head of his shaft. Each and every movement she made, sucking and biting one then the other of Jason’s nipples, caused her breasts to sway slightly, dragging the tips across his warm flesh. These accidental touches were enough to generate the curious sensation of instant reciprocation. As her tongue flicked his hard warm nipple and s
he heard the boy moan she felt a delightful sensation in her own. His tender nipples, erect, moist and warmed by her tongue, and his cock, erect, moist and warmed by her pussy crowded her senses, satisfying, in tandem, both the giving and the taking aspects of her lovemaking.
Jason now had no claim to self-government. He was entirely under the sway of his Goddess, Emma. Her whims, her tongue, her amorous directives were unquestioned law to the boy. His body was not the body he had known hours before – minutes before, even. Since she had unceremoniously stripped off in front of him in the moonlight his body had teased him with sweet expectation. But his mind was unable to inform him of what he was to expect. His body was equal to the challenge; he drank in Emma’s beauty, he luxuriated in the surprising revelation of her body and this behaviour suited her naked demands.
But it was a desperate action by Emma – when she pushed her hand between them – which took from Jason any hope of independence. Her hand and her hunger signalled a great change for him. Her desire was palpable and it was as unconditional as it had been conditional that afternoon. This unchecked hand and its aggressive progress was the greatest turn on Jason had ever experienced.
Quite naturally the boy felt his body swell and harden even more in response to her lust but unexpectedly, by reaching so hungrily for his cock, she was accepting him and yearning for him as a fully grown man.
She had brought into the moonlight his secret pride in his cock – his glorious, thick cock – and had confirmed the boy and made him man. The casual nature of youth with its fluctuating passions was lost back over that line across which Emma had unwittingly dragged him. He graduated into manhood and, additionally, was made a subject of desire, the desire for a woman, for women.
SIXTEEN
Now, Jason had not yearned, as some do, for manhood. When he had swung over the garden fence that sunny afternoon a few days before, his greatest challenge was to pass his final exams. He had had his head down and was unaware that one could raise it and see the wide open world with all its contradictions and possibilities. Young Jess, who was very interested in Jason, had as yet failed to arouse in him an awareness of even her simple needs. Her effort was to try to coax from him exactly that which she was at great pains to hide. But Emma’s impatience, carelessly and rather callously, caused him to hurdle, or more appropriately long jump, years of slow, young male development. If you could call the movement from boyhood to manhood progress, he had progressed.
The Secret Lives of Emma: Beginnings Page 8
