He followed the edge of the material, teasing her. Her bottom lifted off the sofa to meet his hand, pushing against him. He ran his finger along the valley made by the lips of her vulva, pushing gently as he crested the top around her clitoris. He continued to touch her for several minutes as she squirmed. He pushed her skirt even higher and slipped underneath the waistband of her knickers. She obliged by lifting her bottom, her right hand helping him to slip them down to her knees. His finger pushed through her labia, carefully finding the entrance to her sex. She groaned loudly as he pushed easily inside her. They continued to kiss awkwardly as he explored until he pulled out and she slipped over to his side, her knickers still around her knees which she found unusually exciting.
His cock was straining against the zip of his shorts. She tugged at it, watching as his underpants pushed through the opening. She felt the slight wetness as she gripped his manhood. It felt larger than usual, and certainly harder. He raised himself as she slipped his shorts off. She had sucked him once only, on the night they had got engaged. She thought that he had enjoyed it, but it was difficult to tell. Nothing had prepared her for the sensation of having a man in her mouth and although he had moaned in appreciation, there had been moments when she thought she wasn’t exciting him. Letting him orgasm in her mouth was out of the question, although she knew Cynthia had done it with Gerald because she had told her. After that, when the occasion had presented itself once again, she had decided she would have another go but she had been put off by the fact that he needed a bath.
She tugged at his underpants and was rewarded as his cock sprang into view, a rare sight since most of their lovemaking was done in almost total darkness. The foreskin was half-way over the bulbous, glistening head. She took hold of him and gently stroked the skin up and down. He parted his legs and pushed his bottom towards her, offering himself to her. She took him in both hands and roughly moved her hands up and down. He squirmed, reaching out to take her hand. She relaxed, using her fingertips over the head, tracing a line up and down the shaft. It felt fatter than usual to her, maybe a little longer, but certainly very hard. She moved closer to him, sensing whether she would be able to take him in her mouth or not. She caressed his thigh with her left hand as her tongue flicked the tip of his cock. He groaned, reaching out for her hair and running his fingers through it. She tasted his juice, salty but not unpleasant. Her tongue explored around the head, eliciting more groans. She felt his hand pressing slightly on her head, pushing her further down his shaft. Using her lips, she moved slowly up and down, starting a gentle rhythm which she found pleasing. She marveled at the feel of the skin as it traveled up and down his cock and the way the head pushed against the inside of her cheek. After several minutes he moved, pulling her head off his cock. He lifted her up by the armpits. Unsure what he wanted, she giggled a little while he moved to sit up against the headboard. He pulled her towards him and she wobbled as she walked on the bed.
“Stand in front of me,” he said. “Here, yes, like that.”
She swayed from the wine and the uneven mattress until his hands steadied her, moving slowly up, taking the skirt with them until the material bunched around her waist and she was exposed to his view. He leaned forward, pressing between her legs, his tongue finding her vulva amongst the fine blonde hairs.
“Oh Steve!” she said, surprising herself that she had spoken during their lovemaking. He licked her slowly, tracing from her vagina up to her clitoris and down again. She trembled with lust as his hands tightly held the cheeks of her bottom. His tongue pushed in further, his neck bent to increase his penetration as he guided her knickers to her ankles. She moved gently against him before placing her right foot on the top of the headboard, affording him much easier access. His nose ground against her clitoris causing showers of pleasure to course through her body. She looked down, occasionally getting a glimpse of his hard cock bobbing against his stomach. When he pulled her down she sank gratefully and reached for the zip of her skirt. He took her hand away, spread her skirt around and held his cock, positioning it against the entrance to her sex. She looked wide-eyed at him at this unusual sequence. She lowered herself, overjoyed as he slid inside her slowly, filling her. His hands found her breasts and kneaded them roughly, her nipples aching delightfully as his fingers tweaked them. She developed a rhythm, moving up and down on his cock as he caressed her and her blouse flapped around her body. With each stroke he seemed to go deeper and his cock became harder, fatter. She could feel her orgasm building and prayed that she would come. Even after so many years her success rate was poor and she became more convinced that there was something wrong with her as time passed.
His hands moved from her breasts down to her thighs, pushing the material out of the way so he could see his cock pistoning into her. Gripping her bottom he helped her up and down, his fingers digging into the muscles of her tight cheeks. She felt the stirring inside her, gathering force, sending little trembles out from her pussy to the regions. A sudden fear flashed through her as she wondered if it might just evaporate and leave her once again panting from exertion but not pleasure. The build-up since dinner had been slow, unusually attentive, as though this was her night, a holiday gift from him. She looked down at him, his face a picture of concentration and desire, his hands on her hips, holding the skirt so that he could see himself penetrating her. She followed his gaze between her legs and watched the heavenly show as his cock entered her pussy. Stars seemed to flash in front of her eyes as she realised with utter delight that she could see what was happening thanks to the orange glow of the setting sun.
Suddenly, that rare feeling washed over her, building almost from nothing into blinding pleasure. She squealed, her movements faltering as she came and shook. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as her hard, deliberate movements continued. She breathed heavily while regaining her rhythm as she milked the pleasure for all she was worth. She sensed the flood escaping from her pussy as his pubic hair brushed against her thighs. Slowly, she collapsed, wrapping her hands around his neck as she leaned against him. They kissed gently as she slowly rode his shaft. He pushed her off, turning her so that she lay on her back on the bed.
He knelt on the floor beside her, caressing her thighs and breasts then parted her legs, kissing his way up to her soaked vulva. His tongue lapped at her, causing her to groan as she felt him slip inside. She gripped his head, wondering if she was dreaming. Never before had he been so attentive. He pushed her skirt higher up over her stomach, leaving the back of it covering the bed. Parting her legs again, he pulled her towards the edge and placed his cock against her entrance. She guided him in, marveling again as he pushed hard inside her, filling her completely in one strong stroke. Her firm breasts wobbled in time with his thrusts so she held them, playing with her nipples. He then pushed her legs backwards so that her thighs mashed against her breasts giving him easier access to her vagina and opening her completely. She felt him expanding inside her, his movements becoming familiar with his inevitable march towards orgasm. He covered her hands on her breasts as they both dug their fingers into her flesh. Suddenly, she felt his cock pulse and then he shouted, groaning with pleasure as he flooded her, pounding into her as he whimpered with his release. He pumped for some time, unloading into her until he was still, then collapsed over her, kissing her neck.
She moved slightly, trying to minimise the leak onto her skirt. He pulled out, laying his head on her thighs. She wondered whether he was staring at her vagina but decided it didn’t matter. She pulled him up onto the bed for a kiss of thanks, acknowledgment that tonight had been very different, as though their loving was possibly entering a different phase. They lay together for several minutes, alone in their thoughts before she ran her hand up from his thighs, over his cock and the wet skin around his groin and around his neck. She pulled him close and kissed him gently, an indication that she too felt the difference that evening. With a final kiss on the lips she silently slipped out to the bathroom.
Emm
a ran a bath and spent almost half an hour soaking and purring with contentment. As she returned to the bedroom she noticed the skirt and the huge wet patch on it. She smiled, thinking it was worth it and then shocked herself by bringing it to her nose to savour the smell of their sex. She left the bath water for him, dressed in her nightclothes, put new knickers on and went back to the lounge in her toweling dressing gown. He went into the bathroom without a word, taking two magazines with him while she lit the oil lamp in the lounge and read her book. At ten o’clock she made cocoa, which they drank in the kitchen. He caressed her bottom as she reached for the milk in the refrigerator, a pleasing mark of fondness. They were in bed by eleven and asleep moments later.
Without an alarm clock, or the responsibility to catch his train or her bus, they slept until almost eight thirty. She got out of bed to make tea, hoping to bring it back to the bedroom so they could drink it in bed and maybe cuddle a while. However, he was in the bathroom when she returned so she slipped back into bed and looked out of the window at the new day. A cloudless day, which promised to be as warm as the previous one, meant she could walk along the shore. They might swim in the sea after lunch. Or she might take a towel down onto the sand and simply read. She watched him emerge from the bathroom, a towel around his waist.
“Tea’s over there,” she said.
“Thanks.” He drank, dropped his towel and searched for a clean shirt. She gazed at his cock, wondering if sex had even occurred to him that morning. She felt in an experimental mood after the success of the previous evening. Perhaps being away from home offered a license to try new things as though they were on holiday from their normal patterns.
“Hmm, not sure what to wear today,” he said, looking at the few shirts handing in the wardrobe.
“Don’t wear anything,” she joked.
“I’d get arrested,” he said, although it did generate a slight smile.
“Wear my skirt,” she said, regretting it the moment she said it.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Perhaps it’s the wine from last night?”
“Must be,” he said, pulling on a white and yellow short-sleeved shirt. Emma wondered if his cock hadn’t shown just a slight interest in their conversation. But she would never find out as he pulled his underpants up, followed by yesterday’s shorts and went into the kitchen. She leaned back, and while she dreamed of making love, he made toast.
After breakfast she announced that she would spend the morning cleaning out the third bedroom which tended to be neglected. Steven was going to read in the lounge. He had a report to write and could get quite a lot done when he wasn’t disturbed. However, at ten thirty she decided to take a short walk on the beach to see the water, after which she came back to make a cup of tea. They were in the kitchen drinking it and picking through the sad contents of the biscuit tin when the letterbox rattled. They looked at each other.
“I wonder if that’s the postman?” asked Emma.
“Why would anyone send a letter here?” he asked, his tone brusque.
“Perhaps it’s a bill?”
He got up and went to the front door, returning with a letter.
“Postmarked London, first class stamp on it,” he announced, opening it. “Oh, it’s from Lauren. Er, very sorry, er, something about early leave. Arriving 4th.” He looked furious. “The 4th, that’s today isn’t it?”
“I think so,” said Emma, knowing full well it was. She felt the joy of the holiday sinking away.
“She says she’s coming today, the silly girl. That’s five days before we had expected her. Good grief, what is up with her? So much for our holiday.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can read, can’t I?” he shouted. “So now I have to go and get her. Today! What train is she on?” He looked again at the letter, his cheeks flushed with anger. Emma knew if would all turn out to be her fault and that he would sulk for days. “Here, arriving at half past four. So I have to leave here at three-thirty.” He threw the letter onto the kitchen table and stormed out.
Emma read through the letter. It seemed that she had left school earlier than expected or that the senior girls had been allowed out if they had somewhere to go. It seemed most unusual but she thought that Lauren was a sensible girl.
Emma made some soup and a salad with bread and cheese for lunch which was consumed in silence. He continually looked at his watch, shaking his head in between mouthfuls of cheese and bread.
“So what is she going to do for five days?” he asked without looking up.
“We’ll think of something,” said Emma.
“No, you can think of something, I don’t want to be disturbed,” he said, throwing the letter once again onto the kitchen table for maximum effect. At three-thirty he left the house, pulling the green Hillman Melody Minx quickly out of the driveway. He swerved hard to avoid the postman on his bicycle returning from his rounds. He drove back along the coast road, admiring the view and catching occasional glimpses of the sea where the cliffs and coastline allowed. He found the station easily even though he had not been there before. He arrived twenty minutes early so after parking the car against the white railings he entered the small tea shop attached to one end of the platform. A blackboard announced a variety of pies, sandwiches and cakes, plus tea and lemonade. Ordering tea and a piece of cake he sat down by the window and looked out along the track. He wondered how tedious it must be to work in the station. Only two trains a day in each direction, not counting the express. He couldn’t see the attraction of being so idle, or running a tea shop that had so few customers. The lady brought out the tea and his slice of cake on a small tray.
“That’ll be fivepence halfpenny please,” she said. He offered her a shilling and she shuffled back for change. The silence was overpowering. The only sound, he suddenly noticed, was the tick-tock of the wall-mounted clock at the other end of the tea shop. She returned with the change, and he sorted through it, leaving a threepenny bit as a tip. The cake was surprisingly good, very moist and seemed to be filled with real fruit. The tea was strong enough to stand a spoon up in it. He heard the train long before it came round the bend and as he swilled the last of the tea in his cup he was amused to see a man in uniform, who he presumed to be the station master, walk out to the edge of the platform with a flag in his hand. Steam blew from the pistons as the huge black and copper train slowed and the first adventurous passenger leaned out of the window, ready to turn the door handle. Four coaches seemed to be in tow, plus the tender. It slowed with some grace and Steven could now see a few more faces peering out of the opened windows. It occurred to him that he hadn’t see Lauren for a year at least. He recalled that she had long dark hair, but apart from that no image came to mind. Steam billowed across the platform as the train ground to a halt at the station while doors swung open and luggage dropped to the ground. He looked but couldn’t see her. He would be furious if she had taken another train, or got the day wrong.
As a small crowd dispersed towards the end of the train he realised that he had found her. She looked lost, abandoned as he walked towards her and forced a smile. She looked down, averting her eyes. She had an enormous dark brown suitcase with her that had two leather buckles around it. He wondered if it would fit in the car.
“Lauren, you made it,” he said, offering her his hand. She nodded, making an effort to gather her things.
“I’m sorry…” she said. Her lower lip quivered as she shook her head. Steven took a closer look at her. His first impression was that she had been attacked, or had got into a fight. Her dark hair was a complete mess, matted in dark bunches that hadn’t been combed for days. Her school uniform was dirty, with mud over her skirt and legs. Her white blouse was various shades of grey and her face streaked where tears had washed away the grime.
“Are you OK?” he asked, grabbing her suitcase which wasn’t as heavy as he had feared.
She nodded. “Just a bit tired.” She still hadn’t looked at him.
“C
ome on, the car’s this way.” They loaded the suitcase into the back seat and set off. He glanced at her. She rested her head on the window, just as Emma often did. Tears silently fell over her cheeks. Steven noticed a smell in the car, the smell of the un-washed, of public toilets. Three minutes later, as they reached the coast road he could hear her crying, and when he gripped the tab on the window and pulled it down for some fresh air, huge breaths caused her chest to heave. Steven noted how her blouse moved as she sobbed, the material parting slightly between the buttons to show bare skin. He looked back at the road, swerving just in time to miss a pothole. They made the rest of the journey in silence and by the time they reached the house her crying had stopped.
“Here we are. Emma is inside I expect. I’ll bring your luggage,” he offered. Emma opened the door and hugged her, the quick step backwards betraying the fact that she too had detected the smell. Steven brought the luggage in and left it on the double bed in the larger of the spare rooms. Her parents could have the other room as it had two single beds.
“I expect you would like to get washed after your journey wouldn’t you?” asked Emma. Lauren nodded and they went into the bedroom to unpack and settle in. Emma guided her into the bathroom and ran a bath for her. Once settled, she closed the door. She found Steven in the lounge.
“She’s a mess,” said Steven.
“Yes, she’s normally so neat.”
“And she smells, if you ask me. I’ve never known someone to smell like that.”
“Hmm,” said Emma, gazing back towards the bathroom.
“I think she slept outdoors last night, maybe the night before,” suggested Steven
“What? Why do you think that?”
“Look at her! Or she’s been attacked or something!”
Lauren's Love Lessons (Yesteryear Erotica Book 1) Page 2
