‘Time for bed,’ she said in a strange voice. She was unable to look at him. Jason made no move. He was watching Emma intently and actually saw she was fighting the temptation to keep going. This was not natural behaviour for her and it showed. She was awkward and inhibited. She steeled herself and turned her face to him and handed over the jeans and boxer shorts.
‘Come on … Get dressed. We’ve had fun, don’t ruin it,’ she said, while thinking herself an ass. She was trying so hard to be a wet blanket. The part didn’t suit her, she was over-reaching, her acting wasn’t up to it and she had certainly failed to convince her audience. Jason felt sure he’d have her in his arms in no time. He lifted his hand and tugged at her pants. She looked down at him and their eyes met. He was different.
‘Let go, Jason. It’s late,’ she said, stepping back from him but he held on tightly to the loose cotton. The pants came down along her thigh. Jason saw her pussy again. A forceful desire stamped impatiently within him and he pounced, dragging his prey down onto the ground.
He ripped off her pants. His hard, young, naked body wrapped itself around Emma and she was overpowered in barely a blink of the eye.
He lay on top of her again, held her, pressed his cock against her mound and his mouth against hers. He kissed her roughly, deeply, and she clung on to him.
Emma’s whole body trembled, she raised her knees, spread herself and kissed Jason with a manic hunger. Anyone who chanced upon them now would have said they had just begun. They kissed as two lovers long separated finally united. Jason made no attempt to press his cock into her. She made no attempt to help him. Both hungered for consummation.
Though Jason truly felt he was forbidden to go that one step further, his body was insistent he try. He was painfully erect. The pleasures running through all of his senses seemed to urge, to urge, to urge. But it must be remembered that the urging came with no instructions. And Emma had said no. He remembered how he’d felt sliding along the soft, wet folds. He’d masturbated with oil, with cream, with soap, with pre-come and come but … He knew what happened. He’d seen diagrams and pictures. He knew how to do it! He knew it!
Emma would welcome him. She was so very ready for him. She lifted her pelvis again. She couldn’t help herself. He began to thrust ever so slowly. The whole of his lower body moved against her, met her lift. But he didn’t move his cock from her mound and their kissing, manic, violent, deep, continued.
TWENTY
Now it was Jason’s turn to lie. He leapt off her. Stood naked and erect above her.
‘You’re right, Emma, it’s late,’ he said with a grin. He hoped she’d think he was teasing but the truth was, he realised he couldn’t do it. He was frightened. He suddenly doubted he could actually go through with it.
A sharp, uncomfortable pain entered his head. An ugly doubt. What if he was a poor lover?
He reached for his jeans, pulled them on and stuffed his boxers into his pocket.
Emma lay on the grass, panting like a animal. She couldn’t believe it frankly. She was sure the time had come and her will was to be overturned. But in a flash the beautiful body was gone. She watched him pull on his top. I can stand it, she thought.
‘Well … if you’re tired … I wouldn’t want to keep you up,’ she said, rising slowly to her feet. She stepped back into her pants. He was already moving to the fence. She thought that was just a little too provoking.
‘You’ve had your fun and you’re just going to leave … and not even kiss me goodnight?’ she said, stepping slowly across the cold grass towards him.
Poor Jason was so young, so old and so divided. The beast within him had not been sated even after all Emma had done for him. In fact, all of her attentions had only served to roll away the stone and let the true primal spirit out. When he turned to look at her, his eyes had an unnerving presence of mind.
‘Don’t tease me, Emma,’ he said.
‘Are you just going to leave?’ she asked, coming up close to him.
‘You want me to go.’
‘Yes, I do,’ she said. She reached up and brought his mouth to hers, kissed him, and whispered, ‘Go.’ She took hold of his hand and slowly, keeping his eyes on hers, led it under the elastic of her yoga pants. She placed his warm hand on her wet lips. He pressed two fingers into her immediately. She let his fingers play for a moment then withdrew his hand and put his fingers to his mouth and he was made to lick them.
‘Goodnight, sweet prince,’ she said with a smile, and turned to walk away.
Our personal behaviour, our individual character, has such a short history while more elemental human behaviour has a history spanning millions of years. This human behaviour is very sure of itself. Its aims may appear shallow or shortsighted at times but it evolved when the world was less complicated, when life was nasty, brutish and short. All of our intellectual pretensions, our civilised inhibitions, our stumbling, fumbling empathies and our casual nods towards the rule of law seem at times to be impediments to our true state of being.
Jason was made aware of this ancient truth by the sudden turning away of the woman he desired. Nothing short of armed intervention would have prevented him from acting on impulse. As she stepped away she triggered a response in him at once frightening and relieving. And yet, in some dark corner of Jason’s mind was the dim acknowledgement of her consent. Theirs was a play and counter play of dumb beasts dressed in their modern finery. All of the urgency of the past few hours met with and welcomed the overdue quantity of bloody determination which was so evidently lacking till now.
Miss Mischief herself had a feeling she had planted a seed that would ripen overnight. She immediately pictured the boy rushing home to help himself over that last hurdle before collapsing into bed, thoroughly, utterly exhausted. She assumed he’d awake with a determination to fuck her and she imagined him chasing her down at the first available moment.
This was the instant line of thought buzzing through her mind, a thought she was to use up in bed beside her husband. She would have easily imagined escaping from Jason’s clutches, teasing him, not letting him fuck her. She might have visualised them stark naked running the length and breadth of her lovely home till finally, bruised and battered, she would have surrendered her body to the boy and would have had him ravish her again and again till every ounce of him was spent.
But Emma was to be disappointed in this for now her genius for prophesy was blocked by a new and startling entity: Jason’s newborn will. This would add another element to their relationship – chaos.
There was one thing, one thing only that Jason wanted to do. He saw it, clear as day. He knew exactly what he was doing and the effect it would have and he was loving the knowledge.
He took hold of Emma’s wrist and she turned casually, ready to make some glib remark till she saw the smile on his face. She suddenly felt the real fear of the weaker nature when the codes of civilisation are stripped roughly away by a savage.
Fight or flight? Her body chose the latter but Jason’s hand held her firmly by the back of the neck. With his other he undid his jeans, let them fall and stepped out of them.
Emma’s initial fright merged, under the direction of her many perversions, with excitement as her yoga pants were yanked from her.
‘No, Jason!’ she said, the words escaping from her lips, expressing her fear but creating in their turn a greater fear – that he might take heed of them.
But he hardly heard them. She struggled to get free to no avail. Hadn’t she wanted a wild animal? Nothing she could do would stop him. His grip on her neck was very tight, he was hurting her and forced her to relinquish her will to his. She once again felt his cock against her. They were both standing, her back to him, his cock pressed against her butt, one hand on her neck, the other on her hip.
The sight of Emma’s arse was further cause for his primal intoxication. He pushed up her top and admired her back. Then he yanked the top over her head and gripped her neck once more.
He admired to
o his domination. He pulled off his own top so that they were both properly attired. He was rigid. He made one exploratory pass with his cock, running the length of her wet lips before finally, with no trumpets, no fanfare, thrusting deep inside her.
The two of them moaned simultaneously and similarly. Two deep and extended Ohs, expressing relief, pleasure and, for Emma, the satisfaction of having him enter her on his terms.
Jason stood for a moment embedded in his woman, savouring this new delight, so unlike any he had yet experienced and yet so familiar. A mere moment to savour, for the blood rushing in his temples urged him to action. He began to fuck the woman who dragged him from his teenage slumbers. Emma was completely under his control, he held her so surely there was no escape, nor now the will to. He thumped himself into her without restraint. He seemed ever incited to fuck her with greater force. A brutality surged through him from some deep previously untapped reservoir.
Emma was being thrown around by each thrust. His two great forces, his powerful young hand pulling her to him and the greater power of his hips battering her were uneven. Emma began to moan uncontrollably. Each thrust of his was entering hard and deep and he was thrusting faster and faster with no sign of failing. Emma began to feel herself depart under all this power. She was being truly taken. He pounded her with no care. Unrestrained. The desire to climax his only goal and thanks to Emma’s mouth that goal was a long, long way off.
Jason was lost in the power and the glory, lost to the pleasure of rule. His senses were filling with the sounds of Emma’s moans, the scent of her, which wafted up to him, the visual splendour of this beautiful woman in his hands, her round, pert butt, her obvious pleasure, his handling of her. He was a god.
But they stumbled forward. Even a god can thrust too hard, too far for his own restraining hand. He caught her up before they both went headlong into the garden.
Wise Emma took precautions, protecting the precious fuck she was experiencing from farce by reaching up and grabbing the top of the fence. Jason moved with her and without a break in their play, the two were steady and now Jason could truly find just how hard he could fuck his lover.
Jason gripped Emma’s hips, taking hold of the lovely soft flesh he found and began to experience for the first time what all the fuss was about. The pleasures of the flesh experienced as flesh in flesh.
Against flesh.
Base, urgent, lust.
To be a witness to the arch in Emma’s back, her pale, flawless skin in the soft moonlight, the indented line of her spine running all the way down and between a delicious pair of dimples before disappearing in the rise of her perky butt …
To witness her legs, long, slender, stretched taut for she was up on her tippy-toes, slightly spread, serving to present herself to her lover …
To witness her head dropped forward, her hair everywhere and the two lovely arms reaching up to the top of the fence where her hands met and held on …
To hear her moan …
To witness all this might well have been enough for any man.
Jason was privileged, he felt privileged and more than that … for she was his tonight.
There are those who say to be a good lover one has to lose oneself totally in the moment. But can that be true? For Emma, fucking was all about being aware. Being aware of her partner’s needs, what turns them on, what most probably will if only they’d try … Being aware of their limits too, and of their fears, but also being aware of the effect she’d have on her partner. She had no illusions. She knew instinctively how to move to keep a man’s attention, what poses cause a man to faint, just how erotic she could be. It excited her to know.
The pose called for by the situation and her own subtle understanding worked not only to turn Jason on but the pose was one which excited her terribly. She knew how she looked and her vanity, her own pride in the way she looked, coupled with the pleasure she was giving made her tremble. If Jason were to step back and just watch her, she felt she might be able to come just from the sweetness of her own self-love and his love.
Jason was not yet a good lover, he was lost in the moment. These sensations he was experiencing for the first time. Jason was lost to his fucking, for this was fucking pure and simple. All of his fears had gone. His mother’s head popping up over the fence would not have caused him to miss a beat. He’d have continued through any crisis for he no longer cared about anything but the fuck. Emma could not have planned this better, the boy had even forgotten his elusive orgasm. There was no goal for the boy. To fuck or not to fuck? To fuck … no doubt.
He had her hips, he heard her moans, he had the power, he knew nothing of her needs, nor cared. He gripped and thrust hard and deep, ever faster and harder. The stamina of the fit young sportsman and the strength of him were a wonder. He always seemed to be able to find more power to use. He knew no limits as it was his first time.
And what of Emma? Can it be possible you don’t know?
The whole neighbourhood could hear her now. That is, if they weren’t indifferent or asleep or crouching close to an infomercial.
Surely someone peered out of a window, hoping to catch sight of the offender, ears cocked, listening to the wild sounds of a woman under the sweetest of attacks? For although there was no doubt that the sounds were an expression of pleasure and their rhythmic nature denoted actual fucking going on, the listener might consider such unchecked pleasure an offence. For they were not the recipient.
Life in the suburbs has much to teach. It can teach you how to limit yourself so that you appear no better or worse than your neighbour, for being better would be downright unneighbourly. It teaches you to enjoy yourself, but moderately. Sure, have a party, but we’d like two weeks’ warning and we will call the police at ten past eleven if we hear a sound, especially the sound of fun being had. But suburbia cannot help you live. It cannot help you when you stumble upon a pleasure that just makes you scream, that makes you want to sacrifice all of your other values to it.
And Emma was there now. Not that she was ever, inwardly, much of a conformist but she did keep up appearances. It was easier. At that moment though she was no longer of the suburbs. The young man’s marvellous cock was causing mischief. It was blowing away the smothering detritus left by civilisation constantly rubbing against her nature.
Her moans, her cries, were not checked for she no longer had such considerations.
Was she inconsiderate? Damn right! In the truest sense. His deep thrust was finding that place, the sweet, sweet hidden pleasure spot, so few cocks have the temerity to find. Try to stifle yourself when a cock finds that spot! And be damned if you do for it would be wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong! Just how many lives do you think you have to live?
Had David appeared she would have been able to say with utmost clarity (after climbing down, a stiff drink and a long, warm, scented bath) – I love you but I would not have missed that pleasure for the world. And further, if you loved me as I love you, you’d never want me to miss such pleasure … ever.
The two lovers were in the midst of one of those much sought-after couplings wherein each partner is afforded a level of pleasure each believes is greater than the pleasure the other receives.
Each selfish thrust of Jason’s fed his hunger and gave him great pleasure.
Each selfless thrust of Jason’s fed Emma’s hunger and gave her great pleasure.
Whereas Jason was running down a delinquent orgasm, tirelessly, Emma was believing him to be dodging and weaving as an orgasm tried to run him down.
The balance was well in Pleasure’s favour.
Jason’s panting, interspersed by his low, guttural growls were well matched by the breathless gasps from Emma’s wide open mouth. Jason was sweating now and his whole body began to gleam in the moonlight. The tanned body was tensed so that each muscle was easily definable. Caught thus, his age would be harder to guess at. He was a man in the moonlight, naked and fucking intently. His powerful form in action was all man. His jaw set as it was, confir
med a very adult determination. But that was not all, for the very veins in the back of his hands as they gripped Emma, fingers splayed; the muscles in his forearms and his broad shoulders; those calves too, cyclist’s calves, and his thick powerful rugby thighs, well they were all fully formed, they were all the stuff of an adult male – a base, physical, brutal animal male made to fuck.
And fuck he did.
TWENTY-ONE
Emma slept soundly, spread wildly across her beloved bed. Unbeknownst to our heroine, a bright and lively summer’s day beat a vibrant tune against the shutters. And it would continue to beat unacknowledged for some time, for the woman was spent and her body was recharging.
Hours ago now, David had climbed heavily out of bed, sure of disturbing his beautiful wife and receiving a lovely sleepy look from her as he readied himself for his shower. But no such smile came this particular morning. Emma was immovable. He could see she was nestled in the arms of a deep sleep. He shook the bed unnecessarily. She didn’t stir.
He had no memory of the previous night’s grumpy mood, sleep had made him a new man. In any case, the mood he had taken to bed had had nothing whatsoever to do with his life with Emma.
If he had thought more about it he may have come to the erroneous conclusion she was angry at him for his mood, but he hadn’t that kind of mind. He assumed instead that she had been reading till late. He couldn’t remember if she had said anything to him about having assignments or essays due. But seeing he couldn’t remember her coming to bed at all he assumed she was tired from burning the candle at both ends again. He was only opposed to her studies when they made her too tired to spend the little time they had together effectively.
The Secret Lives of Emma: Beginnings Page 11
