Emily Ch. 01byOtazel©
Emily's parents were of Jamaican origin, Christian upbringing, and Victorian morality. She was, they informed her, going to act like any God-fearing black girl should with regard to sex, and keep herself intact for her eventual God-fearing black husband. Little wonder then that at age 20 years she was still technically a virgin, although an experimental church candle on her eighteenth birthday had already performed the actual deflowering. It should be said that the candle was an act of covert defiance and rebellion that had been so completely devoid of pleasure that it had put her off any further sexual self-experimentation of any kind. Emily had still to experience an orgasm.
It must also be said that she had become somewhat disillusioned with a life that seemed to be going from bad to worse. Having just lost her job in a sportswear shop for repulsing the advances of the middle-aged God-fearing black manager, she was horrified to be rebuked by her parents for 'leading him on', as he had told them. So, unjustly censured by her parents for having 'loose morals' and getting herself sacked, she had made the life changing decision to 'up sticks' and to venture out into the big wide world. Being a 'good girl' had, it seemed, just resulted in her being a boring stay-at-home who still got into trouble, so she might as well see what life had to offer before she bored herself to death.
It was that decision that had brought her to a holiday theme park in the east of England to help in a burger bar, 'accommodation supplied'. Such a place, she reasoned, might just provide the stimulation she needed to dip her toe into what she considered to be the real world, where God did not threaten dire retribution for acknowledging the natural urges that He Himself had created.
The accommodation turned out to be a holiday chalet halfway up a hillside lined with such chalets and which she shared with two other girls. It was basic but liveable and her 'housemates', Terri and Samantha, were both about her age, white, and definitely non-virginal. They were both also on the late shift which meant that most of the time Emily had the chalet to herself when she wasn't working. That was good in many ways, for it gave her a retreat, her own space for when the world crowded in a little. She just wasn't used to having lively young people around her all the time and would have found their way of life difficult to adjust to in one go.
Even so, in most respects Emily managed well and made friends with surprising ease. Her easy manner and her sunny Jamaican smile, coupled with her obvious inexperience and naivety endeared her to almost everyone she ran into. No-one had a bad word to say about her; even her supervisor praised her work rate and cheerful disposition, and she soon learned to parry the flirtatious comments of her customers and to laugh at their ribald jokes, even though she didn't always understand them. It took her less than fortnight to decide that the move had been the right one and that she was happy in her new surroundings.
The chalets at the end of the park where Emily lived were older than the others and only allocated to staff members. She was glad of this because it meant that she didn't have to cope with the paying public during her off duty hours and after finishing her shift she soon adopted the practise of sitting out on the chalet's veranda to enjoy a cup of tea in the early evening sunshine. Alcohol wasn't her thing, she'd simply never learned to enjoy the taste, and so she used the tea to help her unwind at the end of the working day. As she sat there she would gaze over the park, watching the holidaymakers wander too and fro, listen to the faint music and distant screams from the fairground rides, and generally soak up the relaxed atmosphere.
Then one evening she noticed movement in the next chalet down the hill from her own. This caught her attention briefly as the two young men who had been quartered there had been sacked after only a couple of days for some misdemeanour, though she wasn't sure what, and the place had been empty ever since. Now, from her vantage point higher up the slope Emily could look down through the chalet windows and she could see a man and a woman were moving in, though her raised viewpoint showed only their legs walking about. She wondered idly who they were and where they might be working, but she soon lost interest and returned to her tea, her gaze wandering across the park once more. It would be two nights later when her interest would be drawn sharply back to the newcomers.
On this particular occasion Emily had made her tea and taken up her station on the veranda when her eyes were drawn to movement within the other chalet. At first she was unable to work out what she was looking at, but then things fell into place and, her hand flying to her mouth and her eyes on proverbial stilts, she understood exactly what was happening.
The woman in the chalet was sitting in a chair diagonally facing the window and she was naked - well, naked from the waist down at least, for that was all Emily could see of her. Not only that but her legs were spread wide apart and her hand was between them, clearly playing with her pussy. Emily was both fascinated and appalled. She knew of masturbation of course, but she had never seen anyone doing it, man or woman, and certainly didn't expect to see it here, almost in public. She sat transfixed, unable to take her eyes away, feeling guilty for watching yet powerless to stop herself. As for the woman herself, she continued oblivious to her audience, her fingers speeding up as they worked on her womanhood until suddenly, with jerking hips and legs, she reached her climax. Emily was spellbound, staring at this spectacle of unashamed sexuality. That must have been an orgasm, she thought to herself, rightly interpreting the unfamiliar movements.
All of a sudden Emily was wracked with shame and guilt at watching this very intimate and personal activity below her, and she jumped up and retreated hastily into the chalet. She would apologise, she thought, the next time she saw the woman, then realised that she wouldn't know her if she met her, having seen only her legs and her... her... well, her pelvic area! And even if she did know her, there was no way she could mention it, for the woman clearly didn't realise she'd been seen and it would only embarrass her. 'Sleeping dogs', she said to herself finally, 'sleeping dogs'.
The next evening Emily was initially a little reluctant to sit out on her veranda, but there was no sign of life below and she settled back into her usual chair, tea by her side, pleased to be once more undisturbed. She was surprised and a little alarmed then to feel a twinge of disappointment at the absence of action in the other chalet. She also stayed outside rather longer than was her custom, something, she convinced herself, to do with her tea being extra hot tonight and nothing at all to do with waiting for something to happen.
Eventually both male and female legs appeared, settled themselves into chairs and began, presumably, to watch television. Emily finished her tea and went inside.
Throughout that evening and during work the next day Emily was unable to stop thinking about what she had seen two nights previously. It was, she concluded, something that would not be repeated, but that she could learn from. Obviously the girl concerned had taken pleasure from what she was doing, and if - and Emily was unknowingly conceding the possibility now - if she ever wanted to do something similar, then at least she knew now where to start. She was fascinated by the episode and its ramifications.
Tea making was a much speeded up process the next night, a teabag in a mug sufficing for once, as Emily acknowledged her curiosity and interest. Settled in her chair, already turned a little so that it faced directly towards the other chalet, Emily feigned interest on the rest of the park, but kept a sharp sideways lookout on the window below. For a little while nothing happened, then female jeans clad legs walked into the room, stood facing the window for a minute or so, before they disappeared again.
Emily watched and waited, her eyes fixed on the chalet window and the empty room behind it, but nothing happened except that her tea went cold. Finally, convinced that there was nothing to be seen this time, Emily picked up her mug, determined this time not to be silly enough to sit out waiting for whatever was not going to happen. But before she could follow her intent of going indoors and throwing away the wasted tea, the jeans walked back into the room. This time hands began to unfasten them, and Emily put her mug back down and watched.
The jeans were soon a puddle of blue on the floor, joined rapidly by a pair of black knickers, and the legs settled themselves in the same chair as before. Emily's heart began to pound in anticipation, was she about to see another display?
It seems she was, because one of the legs hooked itself over the arm of the chair, bringing the woman's pussy directly into Emily's line of sight, and even from her viewpoint some twenty feet away, she could clearly see the fleshy lips and shiny opening displayed before her. Emily stared at this brazen exhibition, spellbound and shocked in turn, but just like before she was both unable and unwilling to look away.
This time when the hand began to play it seemed taking much more time over things. Taking it easy, making long slow movements over and around it, and holding open the pussy lips with two fingers while playing with the clitoris with another. At first it was a much less frantic and a much more sensual affair than the last time, as if the owner of the hand was trying to demonstrate just how they liked to masturbate, but as arousal grew then so did the force and speed of the movements, until all three fingers were rubbing at the little bud unmercifully.
This time the woman's climax was massive. Her hips raised themselves from the chair, her body spasmed and her legs opened and closed over her flying fingers. Emily thought, though she couldn't be sure, that she heard a voice yelling 'yes' over and over. She was mesmerized, unable to look away even if she had wanted to, and certainly unaware that her right hand had crept unnoticed between her legs and was gently massaging her own pussy through the thin material of her dress.
It was not until the movements below ceased and the woman slumped in her chair with legs still wide open and her hand lying quiet across her stomach, that Emily realised with a jolt just what she was now doing herself, and how disturbingly good it felt. She snatched her guilty hand away from her crotch, grabbed up her mug, and hurriedly retreated once more into her chalet, her face aflame with shame and embarrassment.
All evening Emily rolled the events over and over in her mind. Why was she so enthralled by a stranger masturbating? Why didn't she find it as shameful as she had been brought up to believe? More importantly, why had it aroused her own sexual feelings, feelings that had lain dormant until now? Eventually she went to bed promising herself, even though she doubted she could keep it, that she would never watch again. This, she thought, would solve the problem.
But lying in bed only brought another thought to the fore. What about herself? Should she allow herself to masturbate? She had, after all, left home in order to be free of outdated morality and petty restrictions. Thinking along those lines it did not take her long to convince herself that she should at least experiment to find out what it was like, and her hand made its way inside her pyjamas. At least she would do it in private.
Emily's inexperienced fingers explored her pussy very tentatively, not sure where and how to touch herself. Everything she did, she soon decided, felt nice, and there seemed nothing that she was likely to do that might hurt. She discovered that her vagina was already wet and slippery, something that surprised her until she thought about it, and a fingertip found its way just inside with no trouble at all, giving her a pleasant, rather sinful, sensation. Further exploration and the memory of the other woman's actions brought her fingers to her clitoris and a gasp to her lips. Her little bud was engorged and standing almost free of its hood, the fingertip that first unexpectedly touched it sent a small shockwave of pleasure running through her.
She could understand her neighbours wish for more of that, she thought, and, lying on her back with her legs open in a very unladylike manner, Emily began her first serious attempt to masturbate. At first the sensations were merely pleasant, the pleasure added to by her free hand that had made its way unbidden to her breast where it began playing with her rubbery little nipple. Then, as she became more adept at playing with herself and began to find just which pressures and movements had the best effect, the sensations intensified and she began to gasp from little jolts of pleasure that ran through her.
Soon she started to feel a feeling of warmth building deep within her body, seated right inside her pelvis and radiating outwards to engulf her whole being. It was the most intense sensation she had yet experienced and she wondered for a moment if it was an orgasm. Then she realised it couldn't be, as the only two times she'd seen someone 'cum' it had been a dramatic happening, not the creeping pleasure she was enjoying. It was, she rightly concluded, the build up to an orgasm rather than the event itself. It was also, she told herself, her body telling her that she was doing the right things and that she should keep going.
Soon the feelings had increased noticeably, her fingers had automatically speeded up, her breath was coming in tight little gasps, her hips were beginning to lose control with tiny little jerks and twitches, and she suddenly realised she was on the brink of cumming, on the verge of her very first orgasm - and her housemates came home.
Emily snatched away her hand as if they could see her through the bedroom door and in the darkness, desperately trying to control her breathing, and curled herself tightly onto her side, her mind a cauldron of shame, anger, and frustration. How could she have let herself do such a thing to herself, and why couldn't Samantha and Terri have been just ten minutes later. Her body hurt with need, she could feel the ache in her loins where the aborted orgasm was slowly dying away. Her mind was torn between self-pity at her failure to cum, self-loathing at doing such a degrading thing in the first place, and misplaced fury at the other girls for spoiling her experience. Her tears ran down her cheeks as she quietly sobbed into her pillow, listening to the rattle of coffee cups and the bright chatter of the other two girls.
The next evening the woman in the next chalet was there again. This time she was already seated and playing with herself when Emily sat down, and once more Emily was totally unable to resist watching. Emily envied her, able to masturbate with no inhibitions and no guilt.
Now that she had tried it for herself - well, nearly anyway - Emily could distinguish between the stages that the woman was going through, from the initial slow and gentle stimulation to the frantic dash to the finishing line as the orgasm overwhelmed her. This time she was careful not to let her hand stray onto her own body, though she could feel that she was aroused by what she was witnessing, for she had definitely decided that she would try again herself this weekend when the two girls had booked time off to visit home. This was Wednesday, and until Saturday she was determined not to touch herself, no matter what. This time she would do it properly or not at all, she just hoped that her exhibitionist neighbour would be on show to give her the necessary initial impetus.
It was not easy, but Emily resisted her temptations, mostly by finding jobs to do to keep herself occupied almost until the other two came home, and the night eventually passed without frustrations. In the morning she rose, showered, dressed and left for work with an efficiency that got her there twenty minutes ahead of time, but it had the desired effect.
Determined to break what she saw as a developing pattern, Emily decided to take a slightly different and longer route home, a route that took her past the paddling pool and the children's zoo. Animals, especially the cuddlier ones, had always fascinated Emily and she had wished several times that she had been able to work in the zoo instead of with the caterers, so she dawdled a little as she passed, wondering if next year might bring the chance.
As she made her way towards the exit the day shift of zoo staff were clocking out also and she found herself walking alongside two other women on their way home. Both women were in their mid thirties, slim, blonde, and attractive, with smart white overall coats, not quite what Emily would have expected from a zoo and looking more like nurses. Her puzzled look must have been familiar to them.
"We run the crèche, not the actual zoo or the pool." The taller one explained, smiling. "So we get to wear these."
"You're from the burger van by the entrance, aren't you?" The other asked, looking at the catering tabard Emily carried and effortlessly accepting her into their company.
Emily agreed that she was and the trio fell into easy conversation. Wondering if either of them knew anything about recruitment at the zoo, Emily started to quiz them about it. The crèche, it seemed, had nothing to do with the zoo directly, so neither could give any real information, but the taller woman promised Emily that she would look out the name and phone number of the manager, which she believed she had in her quarters.
By now they had reached the roadway that led to the chalet complex and also to the village road, and there it seemed the two white women were going separate ways. As they stopped to say their goodnights Emily walked slowly on, not wanting to interrupt private conversations.
"Do you live in a chalet?" Again it was the tall woman who called to her.
Emily nodded and she continued. "So do I, hang on a minute and I'll walk with you, if that's alright?" A couple of minutes later and the two were beginning the climb up the chalet field road.
"If you live up here, you might as well call in and I'll get you that 'phone number. I'm Gina, by the way."
"Yes, that would be nice of you, thank you. And I'm Emily." Emily felt pleased to have made a new friend.
"No problem, I'll make us a coffee as well, if you like?"
"Thanks, but I'd prefer tea, if you don't mind?"
"Tea it is." The woman smiled and they dropped into small talk as they climbed the hill. Soon they were nearly level with Emily's chalet, and she was beginning to wonder how much further up the road Gina lived.
"Right, here we are, come in and I'll make us that tea."
For a minute Emily was confused, then realisation came and she stood horror-struck staring at the chalet next to hers, the one Gina was indicating. This then must be the woman who had been unwittingly showing herself to Emily each night. How could she now possibly drink tea with her, or even talk normally to her, knowing what she did about her personal habits.
Gina saw Emily's confusion and tipped her head quizzically to one side, then her face brightened and she snapped her fingers.
"You must be the girl from next door; I've seen you on your veranda."
Emily nodded mutely, thankful for once of the colour of her skin that would help hide the blush that flamed across her cheeks.
"How nice to meet you at last, come on in." Gina had apparently no idea of Emily's discomfort, so she breathed deeply and smiled, hoping hat she could still pull off the air of innocence that she was trying to hide behind. She couldn't suddenly reject the offer of tea that she had so willingly accepted a few minutes before. That would simply give the game away; she would have to bluff it out.