Valentine's Every-Day

Emily turned her back to me and pulled her shoulder-length bob away from her neck. I reached to place the necklace around her neck and hook the clasp, the back of my fingers gently brushing against her luxuriously soft skin. The touch was new and exhilarating, and she made no move to release her suspended hair as my fingers smoothed the necklace more than was necessary around the nape of her neck.

Coming to back to reality, I pulled my hands away from her neck and Emily dropped her hair back into place as she turned to face me again.

She looked at me with a depth in her eyes that I had never seen before, "I absolutely love it, Michael. Thank you." Then she put her hand on my chest and moved the full distance between us to press her lips against mine.

My internal struggle must have been felt through my lips. Emily pulled back from the kiss, our faces inches apart, and said, "It's Valentine's Day, maybe we can give ourselves a little leniency."

That's all it took to overcome my weakened will, and I tilted my head forward for our lips to meet again. We spent the next hour facing each other side-by-side on the sofa, talking occasionally, but mostly staring into each other's eyes and softly kissing.

*******

The next week was no different than normal, except that Emily wore the new necklace every day, carefully selecting outfits with necklines complementary to the loop of woven wire. We went about our normal routines and spent time together in public places, simply holding hands or quickly joining for an innocent goodbye hug. The kisses we shared on Valentine's Day were never mentioned and I assumed we both wanted to repress our lapse of judgement.

Emily texted me the following Thursday afternoon, "Are you home tonight? I want to drop something off."

I replied, "Yes" then had a spur-of-the-moment thought and typed, "Want to have dinner here?"

"Sure!"

"Any time after 6 is fine."

"B there at 7."

"Side door will be unlocked. Lock it when you come in."

"K"

Mr. Jacobs and I closed the store, then did some miscellaneous cleanup until about 6:30. He left for home and I headed upstairs to figure out what I could make for dinner. It wasn't nearly as sophisticated as the butternut squash ravioli, but I managed to cobble together a sautéed chicken entree and respectable salad from ingredients already in the refrigerator.

I was just finishing the chicken when Emily knocked on the doorframe and hung her winter coat on the hook by the door.

"Hi Emily. Perfect timing, I was just finishing dinner."

She joined me in the kitchen, wearing designer sneakers, ankle-cut blue jeans, and a pink oxford button-down shirt that was opened enough to modestly showcase her wire necklace. It was a very casual look for her, yet the outfit was still much more deliberate and fashionable than that of the typical college student.

She replied, "Hi Michael" and tugged at my shoulder until I bent over for her to kiss my cheek.

We ate dinner and enjoyed conversation about a variety of random topics. After dinner, she gave me a little box of homemade cookies from her mother and we sat on the sofa to each have one. I could tell Emily was thinking about something as we finished the cookies.

"What's on your mind?"

"Being here... and having dinner with you reminds me of Valentine's Day."

She paused briefly before adding, "I liked that night a lot" and leaned forward to press her lips against mine.

Still sitting side-by-side on the sofa, we both turned to face each other more directly and came together for another kiss, then another, and another. With our legs toward each other, my hands softly caressed her jean-covered knees, while hers rested on the top of my forearms and gently encouraged my movements. Our lips began loosening, and rather chaste closed-lip pecks progressed into more freely affectionate open-mouth kisses.

We occasionally separated to silently look into each other's eyes before coming back together again. Each time, our breathing became heavier, the fair skin of Emily's face and neck became more flush, and the blood flow to certain parts of my body became more plentiful.

After a while, Emily's phone chimed with a text message and she reached to pull it from her back jeans pocket.

"Ugh, I'm supposed to study with Jennifer tonight for our Child Psychology test. I better get going."

Emily used outstretched fingers to fluff her hair, then rubbed her neck and cheeks as if to redistribute her flushed color.

"Thank you for dinner... and everything... tonight."

We shared a few more reserved kisses before I answered, "You're welcome" and we said our goodbyes.

*******

Our relationship held to its normal public decency over the next few days, including during church and Sunday afternoon at her parents' house. Again, there was no mention of our illicit activity and I once again assumed that she wanted to overlook the indiscretion and move on.

I knew I was wrong when a text message popped up on my phone Monday afternoon, "Can I drop off some of my mom's cookies tonight?"

I answered, "I'll have dinner ready at 7. Lock the door on your way in."

She arrived just a few minutes before 7 o'clock wearing a smartly put together jeans and white button-down shirt outfit, of course neatly accessorized, as always.

I did make dinner, but we both knew it was only a weak excuse for our consciouses to somehow justify being alone together in my apartment. We ate and talked at a less leisurely pace than we had on previous occasions, and quickly moved to the sofa.

When we sat facing each other, Emily musically feigned, "Mmm, I do love your Valentine's Day dinners."

Our first kiss of the night was a confident and hungry joining of our mouths. Those that followed were no less urgent, but were hindered by our awkward side-by-side position on the sofa. Frustrated, Emily put both her hands on my chest and playfully pushed me backward so I was sitting in a slouched position. Her petite body climbed over mine to face me, sitting straddled on my left thigh.

My eyes locked on hers as we both breathed heavily and she rationalized, "This might be easier."

Her loose-fitting button-down shirt gaped open as she leaned forward to resume kissing, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the sight of her flushed chest and lacy white bra.

I agreed, "Definitely better" as her arms wrapped around my neck and we playfully rubbed noses before joining our mouths again. My arms embraced her tiny body and held her close as we kissed, occasionally swapping the interlock of our faces from one side to the other.

The new level of passion was having an effect, and my growing member was painfully pinched in my jeans. I removed a hand from her back and tried to subtly pull on the crotch of my jeans to gain some much-needed space. Unsuccessful with the subtle approach, I began tugging harder and drew Emily's attention.

She pulled away from our kissing and asked in a genuinely concerned voice, "Am I hurting you?"

Somewhat embarrassed, I replied, "No... no. I just need to adjust how I'm sitting a little."

Emily sat up and curiously looked down as I pulled on my jeans and coaxed the underlying bulge to one side.

Now fully understanding what I meant, she let out an enlightened "Ohhh..." before replacing her arms around my neck and resuming our kisses.

My hands caressed her back and lightly traced the graceful shape of her petite shirt-covered body, my fingers' smooth motions only interrupted as they traversed the unnatural feel of bra straps.

Still straddling my leg, Emily's hips began making ever-so-subtle motions as we kissed. My hands couldn't sense the movement as I caressed her back, but I could faintly feel the repeated shifting of her weight on my thigh.

I was emboldened by the sensation, and mischievously flicked the tip of my tongue against her upper lip as we kissed. She responded in-kind and our tongues were soon dancing in and out of each other's mouths, our faces pressing harder together in a desperate attempt for deeper and deeper kisses.

As our shared arousal built to a new high, we were once again startled from our rocketing passion by a chiming cell phone. This time it was mine, which was sitting on the arm of the sofa. I didn't intend to answer it, but we both subconsciously realized the interruption was probably for the best.

Emily rolled off me to sit on the sofa and said, "Go ahead. It might be important."

I held up the phone for her to see that Mr. Jacobs showed on the caller ID, then hit the speakerphone button.

"Hi Mr. Jacobs."

"Hi Mike. Sorry to bother you. I was just realizing that I don't think we locked the side door tonight. Could you please check it?"

I think Emily and I both twinged a little, knowing I left it unlocked to facilitate our sin. I simply answered, "I know it's locked. No worries."

*******

The guilt provoked by Mr. Jacobs' observation was fleeting, and Emily texted me 3 days later, "Can we have another Valentine's Day tonight?"

It was clear that the charade was over, and 'Valentine's Day' was her chosen euphemism for spending less-than-wholesome time together. Our relationship had become a dichotomy of two very different and compartmentalized romances. One of a pure and honorable public courtship, and the other of two young lovers clandestinely exploring physical passions.

"Yes, 7?"

"See you then."

This time I locked the side door while we were closing the store, then unlocked it for Emily after Mr. Jacobs left.

I thought about our new paradigm while sautéing some chicken then slicing it over the top of two Caesar salads. We were no longer pretending that our physical explorations were isolated happenstantial occurrences. The primary purpose of the night was clear, and I decided I might as well plan for it.

An erection was imminent, and I decided to change clothes rather than risk being painfully bound-up in my jeans again. I rummaged through drawers and hanging clothes, carefully considering the functional benefits of each piece while also not wanting to appear too overtly presumptuous. Ultimately, I decided on a pair of loose-fitting linen pants, and a nice front-pocket t-shirt.

I think Emily had the same idea. She arrived wearing a well-coordinated athletic outfit that was very fashionable, but very out of character for her. She wore white running shoes with low-cut ankle socks, a well-fitted white Lululemon zip-down hoodie, and baby-blue Lululemon yoga leggings that ended a few inches above her ankles.

I had seen Emily in a variety of very attractive dresses and skirts, but nothing that revealed the shape of her body like those leggings. They fit like a second skin and clearly showed every soft curve of her legs and butt. The sight was incredibly sexy, and I stared unabashedly as she hung up her winter coat and came to greet me in the kitchen.

We met in an all-consuming embrace and I lifted her into my arms. She added support by wrapping her legs around my hips and we began hungrily kissing, tongues eagerly intertwining.

I was not interested at all in the salads sitting on the counter and carried Emily over to the sofa. Her legs loosened their grip on me and, with our mouths still joined, I bent forward to place her on the floor. She guided me backward into a slouched seating position and climbed over me to sit straddled over my left thigh, in the same way we had a few days ago.

As each second passed, our desires grew and inhibitions loosened. In the midst of our urgent kissing, Emily began slowly and deliberately rocking her pelvis on my leg, and my hands boldly slid over her hips to encourage their motions.

The erotic scenario brought physical sensations on a level that I had never experienced before. I could feel my erection obscenely tenting the thin fabric of my pants, and my balls hanging heavily between my legs. Both were hyper-sensitive to every subtle movement, and my completely engorged cock throbbed with every beat of my pulse.

I loved feeling the motions of Emily's hips in my hands but yearned for more direct contact than I could have through the thick cloth of her hoodie. My large hands clumsily attempted to slide under the snuggly stretched tails without success.

Sensing my intentions, Emily pulled away from our kissing and maintained eye contact while she sat upright on my thigh. Without a spoken word, she unzipped and discarded the hoodie to reveal a thin, strappy sports bra matching the baby-blue color of her leggings.

Her eyes watched mine as they surveyed the amazing sight before me. The bra concealed two compressed mounds that appeared proportionate in size to her very petite frame, with subtle curves of cleavage extending above its swooping neckline. My eyes soaked in her feminine form above and below the bra, absorbing the softly toned body and flawless flushed skin revealed to me for the very first time.

She watched as I admired her in amazement, "You are so beautiful."

Without saying anything, she laid herself back on top of me and our mouths passionately met again. My hands went to her hips, feeling every curve through the thin fabric leggings and directing her to resume rocking on my leg.

She did, and her motions quickly evolved from rocking into a firm rhythmic grinding. Shortly thereafter, our kissing stopped and we pressed our foreheads together, both breathing heavily with mouths inches apart.

I could feel heat building on my thigh, emanating from both her legging covered folds and the friction of her intensifying pressure. Our eyes locked, Emily placed her hands on my chest and pushed her torso upright to adjust the angle of her grinding. She continued supporting herself on my chest while my hands slid up the sides of her thin waist and intuitively palmed her bra covered breasts, kneading them the best I could through the restrictive fabric.

Emily intensified her grinding and the combined stimulation sent her to a new level, eyes rolling backward and body tremoring while she lost control. One hand still supported herself on my chest, but the other unconsciously dropped downward and grasped my fabric covered cock.

The mere touch of her hand triggered my own reaction, tightening my balls and soaking my linen pants with copious surges of cum. I looked down in horror to see the messy results of my eruption, but also saw a large darkening blue circle in the crotch of Emily's leggings.

I looked upward from the sights and smells of our fornication and met Emily's eyes. We silently stared at each other for several minutes, telepathically sharing a complex and confusing mix of lust, shock, and guilt.

Eventually, Emily dismounted my leg and did her best to make herself presentable before leaving. We said goodbye with a timid hug, uneaten salads still on the kitchen counter.

*******

We both knew we crossed a sinful line that night, and I think we were both scared. It wasn't sex in the traditional sense of the word, and we were technically both still virgins, but our actions were clearly outside the acceptable boundaries of Biblical purity and integrity. I know I was scared for several reasons but, most of all, scared that our relationship may have been permanently damaged. I wasn't the spiritual leader she wanted me to be, and I wasn't strong enough to maintain her purity.

Over the next 12 hours, I vacillated between wanting to address the issue head-on and wanting to bury my head in the sand to ignore it. Around noon the next day, I manned-up enough to do the right thing and texted Emily, "Can you stop by the store this afternoon?"

"Yes. What's up?"

"I think we should talk about last night."

My phone rang a few seconds later with a voice call. It was Emily.

"Hi Michael."

"Hey."

"I can stop by the store, but I'm not ready to talk about last night."

I started to protest, "I'm so sorry. I'm worried I ruined..."

She interrupted firmly but compassionately, "Stop!... Michael, I love you. Nothing that happened last night changed that. I wanted everything that happened just as much as you did, if not more. You are not to blame. If anybody, I was the instigator."

"But I..."

She interjected again, "Michael!... I have a lot of conflicting feelings and I'm not ready to talk yet. I'll let you know when I am. Until then, please know that I love you and I don't want this to be an awkward thing between us. It's just something that we need to figure out together."

"Ok, I love you too."

We ended our phone call, and my phone chimed a text alert a few seconds later, "I'll stop by around 4. I love you."

I typed back, "See you then. I love you too."

Emily did stop by the store that day and it was surprisingly relaxed and comfortable. We talked about current happenings with school and our friends, just like we had during any of her past social visits to the store. Mr. Jacobs was there and even commented how he enjoyed Emily's visits and seeing us together, to which we both smiled in appreciation.

*******

The 'public courtship' portion of our relationship continued as normal over the next days and weeks, spending time together as we always had, though I was admittedly self-conscious and sheepish during Sunday afternoon dinners at her parents' house.

I mentally declared the end of 'Valentine's Day' and prayed constantly for the health of our relationship, patiently waiting for Emily to be ready to talk. My determination for future integrity was strong and steadfast... for about a week. After that, occasional flashbacks of passion and physical pleasure began creeping into my thoughts, and slowly started eroding my resolve. Several nights, I awoke from very vivid and unwholesome dreams with painful throbbing erections, effectively eliminating any remaining willpower I may have had.

Coincidentally, about 3-weeks after our night of debauchery, I had just woken up from a night of graphic dreams when my phone chimed with an early-morning text from Emily.

"Valentine's Day tonight?"

I had little resistance to the idea while lying in bed with a rock-hard erection, but still felt the need to offer at least a minimal façade of reluctance.

"Are you sure?"

She replied immediately, "Yes, I miss V-day."

"Me too. 7?"

"See you then!"

My anticipation escalated exponentially as time slowly ticked forward and I went about my typical daily activities. I needed a distraction from watching the clock and soaked in some sun between classes and work by walking to the grocery store.

It happened to be an unseasonably warm April day with temperatures in the upper 70s, and the town was alive with people emerging from winter hibernation. Students studied on blankets and played lawn games in the campus quad, while an abundance of bikers and joggers overtook the local streets and sidewalks.

After Mr. Jacobs and I closed the store, I went upstairs to find the apartment was sweltering. I opened the front windows and quickly changed into a t-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting breathable gym shorts. The gentle breeze slowly brought indoor temperatures down as I assembled two salads using a mix of spring greens, grilled chicken, dried cherries, candied pecans, gorgonzola cheese, and a raspberry vinaigrette.

Emily arrived promptly at 7 o'clock wearing a very cute little sundress and white designer sneakers. The pastel mint-green dress was made of a light-weight linen fabric and had a fluttering bottom hem that ended a few inches above her knees. Thin spaghetti straps crisscrossed over her exposed shoulder blades and reconnected to the dress fabric midway down her back, low enough for me to recognize she couldn't be wearing a bra. The dress wasn't overly revealing by most standards but was definitely more adventurous than Emily's typically modest outfits.

"Wow, you look incredible!"

She gave me a flirtatious smile and said, "I'm glad you approve. I was thinking about you when I bought it."