Accidental Inspiration

"Oh, it's YOU again," Emma groaned as she opened her apartment door to her best friend, Matt. And his case of Budweiser.

"I think what you mean, Dear Emma," he clutched his chest in mock offense, "Is 'Oh, Matt, I'm so glad to see you again!'"

"Yeah, yeah," Emma growled, "At least you brought beer this time."

"Believe it or not," he teased, you weren't my first choice of companions for this evening, either."

"You mean you aren't just dying to get all up in this!?" Emma gestured up and down herself, referencing her baggy sweatpants, grey tank top and wispy ponytail.

Emma flopped back down on the sofa, while Matt unloaded the beer into the fridge. "So I take it Blondie Britches didn't put out?" She called into the kitchen as she half-heartedly flipped through the cable guide.

"Ugh," Matt groaned as he came into view, "She has to be the dumbest person I've ever met. Literally."

"You met her at a midnight showing of Sex And The City, Matt." Emma pointed out, "Were you expecting a biochemical engineer hiding in there somewhere? And more importantly, what were you doing at a midnight showing of Sex And The City!?"

Matt ignored her as he sat down with both beers, taking a long, dramatic pull off of the first one, followed by a theatrical, 'Aaaaaahhhhhhh'.

"Um, excuse me," Emma bitched, holding her hand out.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Matt feigned confusion, "Did you want a beer?"

"Fuck you," Emma laughed, tossing a pillow as hard as she could in the direction of Matt's head.

He handed her the other beer and kicked off his shoes, propping his feet up on the second-hand coffee table. "What are you watching?" he inquired.

"I just finished The Notebook, and Dirty Dancing is about to start," she replied.

"Oh, hell no!" Matt said, swiping the remote from Emma's unprepared grasp, "I'm not watching that crap."

"Ex-cuse me!" Emma declared loudly, "Who's TV are you watching? Who's sofa are you sitting on? Whose 'Chick Flick Friday' are you fucking with?!"

"Again, I'm going to assume you mean, 'Thank you, Matt, for saving me from another night alone watching terrible movies that should be banned from television.'"

"Yeah, the lovey shit does get tired after a while," she lied, "Why don't you go rent us something?"

Matt downed the rest of his beer before responding, "Ok, what are you in the mood for? Blood and guts? Something funny?"

"How about one of each," Emma reasoned, "My guess is your ass will be sleeping on my couch again tonight, anyway. We might as well keep ourselves entertained."

Matt faked a seductive stance and flirtatious wink, "I'll keep you entertained, baby..."

"Oh, don't make me puke," Emma replied, although she couldn't help noticing how nice his butt looked in those tighter-fitting jeans, "Just don't pick movies that suck. And hurry back. I'll be drinking while you're gone and you're gonna have a lot of catching up to do!"

"Yes, Ma'am," he saluted, "Back in a flash."

Emma downed another beer on the sofa shortly after he'd left, and already felt the need to break the seal. As she washed her hands in the bathroom sink, she couldn't help but notice how ragged she looked. She momentarily contemplated putting some jeans on, and maybe a bra, but quickly decided against it. Instead, she simply splashed her face, brushed her teeth and regathered her hair into a neater ponytail. She didn't need Matt thinking she'd gone to extra trouble to impress him. That was just not the nature of their friendship. Not that she gave a damn how Matt saw her, but it was the principle of the matter. He was a guy, after all, and he happened to look rather put-together tonight. Clean-shaven, pressed shirt, matching belt and socks. Maybe he was really into this girl, she thought, Maybe he's more disappointed than he's letting on. Maybe I should go easy on him...

She made her way back down the hallway, and into the kitchen where she grabbed herself a beer – and one for Matt, whom she figured would be back any second. Like clockwork, just as she sat down with the two beers, Matt opened the apartment door and tossed his keys on the entry table.

"I scored us Dude, Where's My Car and The Ring," he reported triumphantly, "Which one do you want to watch first?"

"Let's go with funny first," Emma suggested, "Scary will be more fun the drunker we get,"

"Sounds good to me," Matt agreed.

"I just opened you one," Emma pointed, referring to the drink on the coffee table, "Drink up, Sir, you're a beer behind me!"

Showing off his inner-fratboy, Matt grabbed the bottle and chugged it down in a few seconds. He encored his showboating with a loud belch, and tossed the beer bottle aside.

Emma giggled, and he couldn't help but notice how her breasts bounced with each belly laugh. He quickly averted his gaze before she noticed, however. He pictured how embarrassing it would be to be caught oogling his his best friend's tits. Especially a best friend he'd known since birth and, most days, regarded as more of a sister than a friend.

"Em," Matt began, "Do you have anything stronger than beer here?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, Patron, Jameson, Bacardi..." he rattled off, "Something that burns going down and will help me forget this stupid chick."

Emma was right. For some reason, this girl he'd only met once had hurt him somehow on their first date and he was still reeling from it. I wonder what she said that got to him?

"I don't think I'm very well-stocked in the liquor department at the moment..." she replied, "But, I have an idea!"

A mopey Matt was not an option as far as Emma was concerned. She'd only seen him sad or upset a handful of times in her life, and it never sat well with her. As much as they teased, there was a real bond between the two of them – a connection that couldn't always be seen through all the taunting and light-hearted jabs. She knew Matt would do anything for her, and she hoped he knew she would, too.

"What's your brilliant idea?".

"Since we're watching Dude, Where's My Car first," Emma grinned, "We take a drink everytime someone says, 'Dude'..."

"Are you trying to kill us!?" Matt laughed, "I think I read somewhere that they say the word 'Dude' close to two hundred times in that movie. I'm bummed about this girl, but I'd like to wake up in the morning..."

"Suck it up!" Emma teased, "You and I both know you can handle it."

Matt considered the consequences for a moment. He figured another night with his head in Emma's toilet or his drool on her couch pillows couldn't hurt anything. What the hell.

"Well?" Emma whined impatiently, "Do we have a deal or not?"

"Deal," Matt fake-spat in his hand and extended it for a ceremonial shake.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Matt and Emma spent the next two hours laughing hysterically at the slap-stick comedy that took them back to their high school days. Matt laughed so hard at the tattoo scene that he sprayed beer across the room. The more Emma drank, the clumsier she became. At one point, the strap of her ribbed cotton tank slid down her shoulder, and before she could retrieve it, Matt caught a split-second glimpse of her braless breast and pink nipple. He felt pretty certain that she was too drunk to notice his gawking – or the bulge rising in his jeans. Nonchalantly, he maneuvered himself around in such a way that alleviated some of the strain on his aching crotch.

Their ingenious drinking game left them as intoxicated as originally planned – if not more so. Somehow during the course of the movie, their hysterical laughter and frequent trips to the kitchen for more beer had inched them closer and closer to each other on the sofa.

"Matt," Emma pointed to the bedroom as she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, "If you're uncomfortable in those jeans, I think you still have a pair of lounge pants in my closet from the last time."

"Thanks," Matt replied, "I don't know if it's all the beer or what, but it's so damn hot in here. I'll probably just sleep in my boxers."

"Suit yourself," Emma answered, "If you're hot, you can go ahead and chill in your boxers and t-shirt. I don't mind those chicken legs!"

"Fuck you." As much as he'd like to be free of all the heavy fabric, he didn't dare release its functional hold on his unruly man parts. It's difficult enough to conceal a boner in jeans, he thought, and it's damn near impossible in boxers.

As if the universe were giving him The Finger, Emma picked that precise moment to stand and arch into a full-body stretch, elongating her torso and pushing her half-hard nipples into the grooves of her ribbed shirt. As she rotated from side to side, the hem of her tank separated from the waistband of her sweats, revealing a soft, delicate belly and the briefest promise of pink lace panties. She untied her light brown hair and shook it out across her shoulders.

"So," Emma began as she sat back down on the sofa, "Are you going to tell me what Miss Universe did to piss you off tonight?"

"I wasn't planning on it," Matt averted his gaze and busied himself with the task of switching out DVDs.

"C'mon, Matt," Emma dropped the fun and games, "You can tell me anything, you know that."

Matt remained silent as he plopped the new DVD in the player and hit play. Flustered by his dismissive behavior, Emma grabbed the remote and turned the TV off.

"You're gonna tell me what happened!" Emma barked, pointing a finger obnoxiously close to Matt's face for emphasis, "You talked about this girl non-stop last week. You went on and on about how hot she was, and how she laughed at all your jokes..."

"Yeah," Matt agreed wistfully as he toyed with the label on his beer.

"Did you clam up?" Emma guessed, "Say something stupid--?"

"She never showed up, ok?" Matt blurted out, "Are you happy?"

Stunned by his honesty (and the reality that someone would ever think twice about going on a date with Matt), Emma took a moment to gather the remainder of her non-intoxicated brain cells before responding.

"I'm sorry, Matt," she offered, "Are you sure you didn't just get your times mixed up?"

"You're so cute, Em," Matt laughed uncomfortably, "I waited at the restaurant for almost two hours and I called her half a dozen times. She's made it pretty obvious that she isn't interested in seeing or speaking to me."

"I'm sorry, Hon," Emma slid closer to rub his shoulder, "And here I've been picking on you all night when you really needed a friend."

"Why do you think I came here?" Matt asked rhetorically, noting the familiar scent of her shampoo, "I was counting on your crude sense of humor and ruthless jabs take my mind off of her."

"You know you can come here anytime," Emma reminded him, "At least you're willing to venture out and make an ass of yourself from time to time. I just sit here on my couch weekend after weekend in sweatpants, hoping the pizza delivery guy will pronounce his undying love to me."

Matt laughed, "Well, the romantic comedies and dramatic love stories probably aren't helping matters much, either."

"How do you figure?"

"They set a horrible standard for real guys to live up to!" He threw his hands up in exasperation, "When you're watching those movies, you're subconsciously expecting Patrick Swayze to walk in and say, 'No one puts Emma on the couch in sweatpants,' or Richard Gere to show up in a limo and climb your fire escape."

"I don't have a fire escape," Emma argued stubbornly.

"You know very well what I mean."

"Yeah, I guess," she conceded, retrieving her beer from the coffee table, "I just look in the mirror and I don't see someone that most guys would find attractive. I don't bother with hair dye, I've never worn a pair of stilettos, I don't giggle at jokes when they're stupid or come from a man who is clearly trying too hard, and I'm not built like a supermodel."

"You're built," Matt clarified, "Like a woman. An extremely sexy woman who's been driving me crazy all night." I can't fucking believe I just said that.

Did he really just say that? Emma couldn't have heard Matt correctly. Did he call her sexy? Did he really say she'd been driving him crazy all night?

"What did you say?" she proceeded with caution.

"You heard me," Matt said, "We don't have to make a big deal out of it or anything, but I'm a man, damnit, and you've been parading around here without a bra on all night. I've noticed. So shoot me."

"I'm hardly going to shoot you," Emma laughed, "In fact, I was thinking to myself earlier tonight that you look nice, all spiffed up."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, now put the damn movie on before we do something stupid we'll both regret," Emma ordered.

"You're the one who turned the TV off, Genius," Matt quipped as he rose to check the fridge for another beer. They had to be almost out by now. "The damn thing's probably already started."

"Oh, yeah," Emma remembered through her fuzziness as she searched the couch cushions for the remote. Finally she found it, and when she hit the play button, the unmistakable sound of female ecstasy filled the apartment.

"Uhh...Matt!" she hollered into the kitchen, "What the hell did you rent?!"

Matt came bounding into the living room, clumsily sloshing his beer over the neck of the bottle. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed, "They gave us porn by mistake!"

"I thought the video store always checks the boxes when you're checking out," Emma wondered aloud, overtop the moaning and the wet, slapping noises of skin against skin.

"The stupid kid at the counter must have been too busy trying to sell me some gaming package," Matt blushed as he lunged for the remote. Surprisingly, she jerked it away before he had the chance.

"Let's leave it on," Emma confessed, "It's been a long time since I've watched porn, and I don't think I've ever watched it on TV, as opposed to grainy, online clips that have to re-buffer every thirty seconds."

"Emma..." Matt scolded, "This is hardly--"

"Hardly what, Dad," Emma chided, "I'm a grown woman. You rented me some porn, whether you intended to or not, and I'd like to watch it. You are free to leave if you are uncomfortable with it."

Matt narrowed his eyes, unwilling to be out-bossed this time. "Fine," he agreed, "But I cannot be held responsible for my physiological reactions to this sort of stimuli..."

Emma laughed, "You sound like a sex therapist! A boner is a boner, Matt. It's not like I've never seen one. Get comfortable and come watch this with me. It'll probably be funnier than the last movie, really. From what I remember, most porn flicks are cheesy and unrealistic as hell."

Matt slung his button-down shirt over the arm of the recliner and dropped his jeans in the doorway to the kitchen. He prayed against all odds that his dick wouldn't embarrass him. But, remembering what Emma said about being a grown woman, he figured it was her problem if it offended her. She knew what she was getting herself into.

Matt settled back onto the opposite end of the sofa from Emma. He leaned back and propped his legs up on the coffee table and braced himself for whatever came next. The screen showed a tall blonde woman in heels reverse-straddling a man in an office chair, his pants down around his ankles. She and her bald pussy bobbed up and down on his ridiculously large, thick member as she tossed her hair around and fondled her own tits. It wasn't long before Big Dick Pornstar had the blonde bent over the mahogany desk, her leg propped up at an unnatural angle to give the camera better access to her naughty bits. He pistoned in and out of her reddening lips, giving her ass an occasional smack, to which the blonde replied, "Ooohh, yeah, spank me, spank me harder!"

Quickly realizing that she may have gotten herself in over her drunken little head, Emma nevertheless couldn't take her eyes off the screen. Cheesy and overdramatized or not, the sight of a rock hard cock pulsing in and out of a willing and eager pussy commanded her attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Matt struggling to focus on the screen, reaching nervously for his beer every five seconds. She chuckled to herself, watching him scratch his head, clear his throat and cross-uncross his legs every minute or so. He was struggling so hard to contain his excitement, that Emma decided to break the ice.

Matt knew he must have looked fidgety. Hell, he was ready to come up out of his chair everytime he heard the porn star smack the blonde's tight little ass. Emma wasn't helping matters, looking so innocently glued to the TV, as if she'd never seen or experienced sex before. She was obviously affected by the scene, too. He noticed she as taking deeper breaths, almost panting even, and her face and chest were flushed pinkish-red. I wonder how turned on she's getting watching this, he thought, I wonder if her pussy is wet?

As if he'd said the words out loud, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Emma brought her hand up to her thin cotton top, and was pinching her nipples through the material. She bit her lower lip as she pinched harder and harder. She slumped down on the couch, and propped one leg up on the coffee table. Still toying with her breasts, Emma slid her other hand inside the waistband of her drawstring sweatpants and gently stroked herself. Jesus, Matt thought, This can't be good...

Emma shot Matt a playful grin from the other side of the sofa, "Is this bothering you?" she asked.

"Is me watching bothering you?" Matt answered with another question.

Without taking her eyes off of him, Emma raised the hem of her tank top above her tits, offering Matt a full view of the soft peaks in all their blazen glory. She moaned in the tiniest voice as she closed her eyes and threw her head back. "Aren't you horny, Matt?" she teased, "If you were alone right now, wouldn't you be touching yourself?"

Knowing full-well how to take a hint, Matt raised his hips in order to remove his boxers. He felt the heat of Emma's stare the moment his dick sprang free. "Stroke it, Matt," Emma ordered, "Stroke your big cock for me."

The porn flick became nothing but background noise as the two pleasured themselves, eye-fucking each other's naked parts for the first time. Emma began bucking her hips, gently at first, then faster as she furiously rubbed her clit. The sight of her nipples, purple-red from the pinching torture, was enough to send Matt over the edge. His cock became even stiffer as he imagined blowing his load all over Emma's perky tits as he watched her near climax.

"Come for me," he begged, "I want to see it."

Emma grunted and writhed as she spun herself into a climax that lifted her hips off the sofa. She collapsed momentarily onto the cushions, a wide smile spread across her face. She paused only for a brief second before turning her head toward Matt, who was still leisurely stroking his cock. Instantly, she stood up, pulled her top over her head, dropped her sweats to the ground and lept over to Matt, straddling his hard exposed flesh.

Terrified and exhilirated all at the same time, Matt lifted his arms at Emma's urging as she pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it across the room. She raked her nails up and down his chest before grabbing his face and pulling it near hers for a harsh, pleading kiss. He wasn't used to a woman so confident and skilled in her sexuality, but he was certainly willing to ride the situation out and see how far she was willing to take it.