Memories of Emma

I stepped forward and, holding her breasts again, encouraged her to turn until her back was pressed into my chest. Then, using one hand to pinch her receptive nipple, the other dropped into her bush, marvelling at how different it felt from Alexis's exposed skin. But then I pushed into her bottoms, and found the warmth of her cunt, and things felt very familiar. With more enthusiasm than skill I pushed one and then two fingers into a very different kind of wetness, and she pushed forward with her hips to grind her clit against my palm. She moaned, and I brought my other hand up from her breast to her face, mostly out of fear of being caught, but she loved it, pushing harder against my fingers and moaning again to force my hand harder against her mouth. I knew enough to stick with what seemed to be working, and soon enough her body tightened in orgasm. I was quite pleased with myself, though in hindsight it had more to do with her knowing what she wanted than any special talent on my part. But still: right place, right time.

I pulled my hand away from her crotch, and she turned to crush against me, her breasts squishing against my chest. She gave me a deep kiss as her hand reached down to find my dick, which was starting to feel sorely neglected. Breaking the kiss, she breathed into my ear, 'Get out.'

There wasn't enough blood left for my brain to question this, so I pushed myself out of the water, my swimming trunks tented obscenely. She followed me out, and in the half light I got my first real look at her boobs, capped by large brown nipples. Hoping that our plans were the same, I sat on one of the loungers and, too horny to worry, pushed off my trunks. Then she was on her knees in front of me, and I leaned back as she took my dick between her lips. No one ever admitted to seeing us, and my eyes were locked so tightly on her bobbing head that we could have been completely surrounded and I would have never known. But I wasn't going to last long, which was probably for the best. 'I'm gonna cum,' I warned quietly, and I began to panic that she hadn't heard when my pleasure began to boil over. I repeated it, more urgently, but she just pushed her mouth down and held it there as my orgasm pulsed through my body and into her mouth. Finally, she pulled off, and as her eyes met mine she let a bit of cum dribble over her lips and onto her boobs before swallowing the rest. 'Whoops'.

Then she slipped back into the water, and I was left alone with my thoughts for a second. I had never seen anything so absurdly sexual. With Alexis there had real affection, and everything had felt so important as we opened our bodies to each other. Jane had just identified something that she wanted -- me -- and taken it. I wasn't even sure that I'd ever see her again, much less take things further. She had (and I won't apologise for the pun) completely blown my mind.

'Toss me my top, will you?' her voice broke me from my reverie.

'Uhh, yeah,' I stuttered, nearly tripping over my own trunks as I stood up.

'And put that thing away! It's not getting anymore tonight.'

Tonight. The word rang in my ears as I hopped sideways, nearly stumbling as I tried to restore my modesty. So maybe we are in for more. My dick was still half-hard, and didn't soften as I grabbed her bikini top and tossed it to her -- high, so that she'd had to reach up and expose those boobs one more time. She only chuckled as I took in another glimpse of her proud nipples. Tying the top, she came out of the water and approached me again. 'Think I got all of the cum off?' she asked, pushing her boobs up from below. Looking down, it occurred to me that I would have happily licked them anyway. The feeling surprised me, but I didn't have time think it through before she popped up on her toes to give me a kiss on the cheek. 'You're alright, burger boy. You go back in, tell them you were tidying up or something: you seem the sort. I'm gonna sneak off home. I got everything that I wanted here.' She gave my dick a squeeze as the said the last part, and with that I was fully hard again. 'Not tonight,' she said with a laugh. 'But I like your enthusiasm.' Then, true to her word, she turned away, grabbing her bag and slipping out a side gate.

That was Jane. In the next few days she got my number from a mutual friend, and spent the rest of the summer teaching me just how crazy she could be -- and how to handle a woman who knew what she wanted. The only thing that we didn't do was anal, which she apparently didn't like; and given that this was just about her only boundary, I wasn't about to push it too hard. In hindsight (heh), I wish that I'd done more with her ass; but then some of these stories wouldn't have gone in quite the same way.

I was probably infatuated with her (an inevitable side effect, at 18, of watching her swallow my cum so often), but this was never going to be a relationship. She went back to a different uni about a week before I went off to mine, and she was smart enough not to let me embarrass myself with a long goodbye. She ended up leaving the country a few years later, and I haven't seen her since. But Facebook tells me that she's married, and I'm glad that she found someone who could keep up with her.

Emma and I both applied to the same uni, and inevitably we were both accepted. It was a few hours to the north, near to where she was born. She spent a lot of her summers up there with some cousins, and that year was no different. So she never met Jane, and it was a few months since I'd seen her by the time my parents drove me up.

There was a weird issue with uni housing that year, and the official advice was for first years to find a flat if they could. Emma was going to move in with an older cousin, Kim, just finishing her own studies, and I had a baseball teammate who'd gone up the year before who had a vacant room. I don't know how things would have been in a proper dorm, but I can't say that I really felt like I'd missed out.

My parents stayed for a couple nights to see the city and help me settle (read: buy me all the things that I never realised a flat would need), and the day the left I went out for pub trivia with my flatmate, Steve (a third, John, was still out of town) and Emma. Her cousin, Kim, was supposed to join us too, but there was some drama with one of her friends and she had to go try to clean things up. I got to know Kim pretty well in the end (not that way -- Emma would have killed me), but her friends were always a problem. Sometimes I think she liked appearing stable by comparison.

The pub was crowded with new and returning students as well as the old regulars. It was a lesson in humility for both me and Emma. Steve was pretty sharp, but the questions were written for people with more than just a high school education, and he couldn't carry the team alone. At least Emma and I were equally bad. Not that we agreed on that: just that we could each jibe the other for being embarrassingly wrong with about the same frequency.

We finished 17th of 24, and mostly felt bad for Steve that we hadn't carried our weight better (you could tell it was bad because Emma was willing to admit this, rather than blame it all on me). We stayed for another couple of hours, drinking more than we should have, but enjoying the feeling of freedom and potential.

Eventually the equilibrium between our bank balances and sobriety passed the point of good sense, and we agreed to call it a night. Steve went straight back to our flat, but I wanted to catch up more with Emma and tagged along to hers. We talked a bit as we went, but mostly fell into a companionable silence. I was glad, though I'd never admit it, that she was here too. I'd never lived anywhere except the town I grew up in -- hell, the house I grew up in -- and, young and confident as I was, I knew that this was a big change. It wasn't until many years later that I learned that she felt the same way, though in a way I always knew it.

As we turned onto her street she started talking about the cousins with whom she'd spent the summer. They had visited her periodically as we grew up, so I knew most of them, or at least their names, and listened happily to the updates in their lives. We'd just walked in the front door, opening into a small but cozy lounge, framed by couches on two sides by couches and a kitchen bar on the third. A hallway leading to the bedrooms disappeared into darkness behind the kitchen. Emma quickly popped down to check on Kim, but she hadn't made it home yet.

I settled on one couch, and Emma plopped herself down on the other. 'Oh, and little Mikey!'

'What about him?'

Mike was Kim's youngest brother, who'd just turned 15 or 16 -- I blamed my memory issues on the beers. I hadn't seen him in a few years, but in my experience the nickname held true. I think he'd been about 5'2 -- well shorter than me, even before I'd finished growing. 'Not so little anymore! He says he's 6'4, and he might just be right!'

'No way.'

'Here, take a look,' and she tossed her phone across to me.

It was a bad throw, but I caught it with a twist. 'Don't drop it!' she giggled.

'That's on you.' I looked down and saw her face again, shrunken and smiling from the middle of a group. Next to her, true to her word, was indeed someone who looked like John -- if he'd been put through a pasta machine. Emma was in heels, and probably pushing six feet, but even then he towered above her. 'Unreal.'

'Take a look at the rest, there should be some other familiar faces too.' I started swiping forward, past a sequence of smiling group photos and what seemed to be increasingly drunken selfies. I recognised a few faces, but not many. The other faces started to blur, and Emma, constant across them all, started to stand out more clearly -- especially her black dress, which (I couldn't help but notice) sat low on her chest, presenting more of her small boobs than I was probably supposed to notice.

Then, suddenly, there was Emma in that dress, but alone; and not in a bar or club, but a... bedroom? My confusion must have shown in my face. 'Something interesting?' she asked from her couch.

I looked up. She wore a crooked smile, which was nothing new, but there was something in her eyes that I didn't recognise. I'm still not sure why I did what I did next. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was being in a new city, the air of opportunity and potential. Certainly it had something to do with Jane. I think I knew that it would change things, but I couldn't have guessed how much. 'I'm not sure yet', and I held her eyes as I swiped forward again.

Her eyes led mine down, and my heart skittered. She was still there, but the dress wasn't. A black lace bra gave a full view of her nipples, and a matching thong sat on her hips. Something primal drew my eyes back to her breasts, where large areolae and prominent nipples pressed firmly against the fabric. Adrenaline shot through my system -- and something else shot through my groin. I looked up again.

She wasn't quite smiling anymore, but the strange light in her eyes seemed even brighter. There was defiance there, and maybe some fear; but playfulness, too. Below that, something that I still couldn't place. Did she want me to be doing this? Again, something seemed to speak through me. 'Risky, leaving these where anyone could see.'

Without waiting for a response, I swiped again. I don't know what I expected to see. It wasn't Emma on her knees, her lips wrapped around a dick, her eyes piercing the camera with arousal. For a second I could not form a conscious thought. I looked down -- I had to -- but her bra had stayed on.

My eyes met hers again. They still danced with defiance, but the fear was gone, and the weird look from earlier even stronger: the same as the look in the photo. Arousal. She was enjoying this. I was too: too much. 'Or maybe you like to be seen?' She tried to shake her head, but it's hard to lie when you're giving someone blowjob eyes.

I wanted -- needed -- to see more. The urge was overwhelming, and surprising. Emma was cute, sure, I'd always known that; and with her small boobs she often went without a bra, which I never tried very hard not to notice. But that was a man's prerogative, and more about curiosity than desire. That wouldn't be true again.

But whatever power had guided me this far was telling me that it was time to quit. Before I could think any more, I tossed her phone back to her. 'Bastard' she whispered, breathlessly; but there was no venom in it.

'Slut,' I replied. Again she shook her head; again her eyes held the truth. My nerve wasn't going to hold much longer. 'I'll let you get some sleep. See ya later, yeah?'

I was as hard as I'd ever been, and I didn't bother to adjust my dick as I stood. Her eyes shot to it, but after what I'd seen it seemed only fair. Only once I was out of the door did I tuck it up into my waistband, smearing precum on my hand as I did. Holy fuck. The whole incident had lasted maybe a minute, but it felt like I'd spent half my life on that couch, staring into Emma's eyes. 'Slut', I'd called her, and from the look in her eyes I knew that it was right. Not an insult: just a statement. She liked to be seen.

In truth, I hadn't seen that much of her body. Just the ghost of her nipples through the bra. I hadn't even looked closely enough at her crotch to see if she shaved. But then again, there was the blowjob. Seeing the picture, and then seeing the same look in her eyes, was somehow far more erotic than a random glance of her fully naked body could have been.

Then something else struck me. I had been in control. She had just listened and agreed; and it had only ended because I stopped things. The natural conclusion struck me with another wave of adrenaline and arousal. We could do this again.

We will do this again.

It was late, and the roads were quiet, which was lucky because I was not paying any attention to what my legs were doing. But they knew the path, and soon enough I was back at my own flat. Kicking my shoes off, I sat down on my own couch and checked my phone for the first time since leaving.

Emma had texted. Of course she had. Whatever else she felt, she would hate that I had won. I swiped her message open with a smirk. How would she play it?

You weren't supposed to see those.

It wasn't a lie, exactly. But as soon as I had decided that I wanted to see them, she had let me. Maybe it wasn't supposed to happen, but it had. And now we had to decide what it meant.

As I thought, my hands freed the button on my shorts, giving an erection that still had not abated a bit of room to breathe. I could ignore it. Somehow it seemed clear that this would end it. Things had started because I had pushed them, and if I relaxed, the door would slam shut. My dick pulsed in silent objection. No surprise there.

The angel on my shoulder, having hitherto let his devilish counterpart run the evening, finally caught my attention. You don't want to hurt her. It was right. My brain was racing too fast to know exactly what I did want, but Emma was not a toy to play with and discard.

But she didn't pretend that it didn't happen. Clarity, with more adrenaline and arousal. I'd never cum without touching my dick, but I almost felt now that I could. The door wasn't closed; in fact, she had reminded me that it was open.

The response was written and sent before I could stop and think.

Where did he cum?

The thudding of my heart was the only sound in the room. Maybe in the world. Delivered. Read. I felt as if all my nerves had been shorted, my entire body tingling with anticipation. It wasn't really the message I'd just sent -- not quite tame, but a bit weird as sexts go -- so much as the recipient. Emma was a friend, a rival, someone I knew better than anyone I'd ever seen give a blowjob, even if it was just a photo. And I'm starting to know her even better. I knew, with a confidence that I didn't understand, that she was going to answer.

Three dots appeared maybe ten seconds -- time didn't seem to mean much right now -- after my text went through. Then a ding.

Wouldn't you like to know?

Ahh, there she was. I'd caught her off-guard at home, and taken advantage. She wanted this -- she wouldn't have responded if she didn't -- but she couldn't give anything to me. She wouldn't give me the pleasure. Heh. Maybe not the right choice of words.

Her game sounded fun. Maybe a decade of teasing her made it easier; not that the teasing had ever looked like this. Time to take back the initiative.

Show me.

The text was sent before I realised just what I'd asked for. It's one thing to look at a picture on someone else's phone, but quite another to request a photo of your own. Was there even a picture to send? There was. She likes to be seen.

Somewhere, a car door slammed and I jumped. Here I was on a couch in the lounge, my dick pushing my boxers up obscenely through a half-opened fly. And I was about to receive a photo of -- an image of Emma's laughing face, cum dripping from her nose and cheeks, struck me like a lightning bolt -- it was time to be somewhere more private. And lose these boxers, my dick added with a throb.

It was overdue. Luckily no one else seemed to be home, so I made it to my room unseen -- shorts slipping down, my boxers thrust out in front of me like a windvane. I grabbed my phone from my pocket before kicking them off along with my boxers and unbuttoned my shirt as I flopped onto the bed. For the first time that night my hand wandered down to my dick and felt it burning. I wasn't even sure at this point that an orgasm would meaningfully soften it.

My phone buzzed: my breath caught. But it was a text, not an image.

You think I took a picure of that?

Yes

Then, after a second,

And you want me to see.

If I'd learned a lot about Emma tonight, I'd learned more about myself. Was this how I talked? To Emma? Whoever this new Matt was, he was a complete stranger. My dick still burned in my loosely gripped fingers, as if to remind me that, though we might not know him, we did like him. And it seemed that Emma did too.

Asshole. The screen lit up again. Then an image. You don't tend to remember an aneurysm, I think I read once, so maybe no one knows what they really feel like. But that moment gave me a pretty good idea.

A woman -- Emma -- was lying naked on her back. Her sandy hair formed a messy halo around her head, which was thrown back, the flush of her cheeks absurdly pretty. Flaring with desire, the same eyes I'd met earlier that night stared down her body and into the camera. Her pink lips were parted, too overcome by lust and pleasure to sit in their regular smirk. The shock of seeing her face transformed by arousal held my eyes in place for a moment; but only a moment.

Her breasts, humble but firm, sat high on her chest, and held their shape impressively against gravity. Her areolae, large in proportion, were a brilliant pink, and her nipples stood straight out, begging to be sucked. In the gentle slopes between them sat a single drop of cum, and down her belly the rest. She had an athlete's body, tight with the hint of underlying muscle, but no less feminine for it. Her belly button was full of cum: why this seemed so erotic, I'm not quite sure.

The photo cut off just below her hips. There was a bit of pubic hair visible, closer to brown than the hair on her head, but her pussy was out of the frame. Had she cropped it? It didn't look like it, and I wasn't sure that she would have anyway. She'd given me what I asked for, and I couldn't complain.

My dick finally wrested control of my hand away from my brain, and, slick with precum, exploded after embarrassingly few strokes. I laid my head back and let pleasure take me, breathing deeply as the pulsing in my dick finally slowed. When I opened my eyes again, I found my own chest nearly as covered in cum as hers had been, and the sight of my own belly button full of cum brought out a strange laugh. All of the thoughts that my brain couldn't process seemed to come out with it, and it continued for some time, ending only after it had broken down into a cough. Things would never again be the same with Emma, but even as the cloud of arousal lifted, I didn't feel any regret. I hadn't made her do anything, much as I had taken the lead. It had been her who sent me a nude.