‘No, Emma, no!’ cried Sally, but still she made no effort to move. With a smile Emma leant forward, lowering her head, sitting on her heels as Sally watched, shaking with expectation. She looked up at Sally from between her legs. The subtle changes in Sally’s scent excited Emma terribly.
Emma stuck out her tongue and Sally watched her with a greater intensity. The first touch of a tongue there was, well, nothing was like it.
Sally’s fears would not leave her. She looked away for a moment, scanning the beach, the neighbours’ pool, the fat thighs. She couldn’t see the men.
‘Let’s go upstairs. Please, Em,’ she said, touching Emma’s face. ‘Please.’
‘Now or never,’ said Emma, her lips just millimetres from the wet flesh. Sally could feel her hot breath as she spoke.
It was maddening. Sally wanted to enjoy Emma’s mouth, she wanted to lie back on a soft bed and get lost in the wonders of her tongue. For an hour or so. This was rushed. Hot. Rush. Out on the balcony she was so tense. Excited, true, but rigidly so. She didn’t think she could enjoy her friend’s talented tongue here.
Emma took gentle teasing bites of Sally’s soft inner thigh even though Sally’s scent was intoxicating, drug-like, hypnotising, calling her tongue forward. She fought the temptation. Making dear Sal wait was far more fun.
Emma’s bites were moist, hot and luscious, her lips pressed, massaging the skin. Kissing down below her pussy, too. Licking the juices, then rising from these depths, up the incredibly soft thigh and over onto the naked mound.
Sally was distraught. She still couldn’t see the boys and she felt they might appear at any moment. Emma’s teasing was almost enough for her to reach some weird kind of climax. She felt her hips shuddering. The heightened state she was in was new. She was beside herself with worry about the boys and she was being teased by a woman’s tongue and exposed to the world. She couldn’t stop Emma, she couldn’t, the promise was too great.
Emma raised her face and saw that Sally was sitting stiffly, so she lifted Sally’s right leg and flung it over the arm of the chair. She leant back and looked at the pose in which she’d placed her friend. Then Emma grabbed the other leg and flung that over the other arm. Sally sat spread wide for her lover. Emma smiled at Sally’s worried expression and pushed her back in the chair. Sally’s view of the beach was hindered by being so low. She raised her head and Emma pushed her back again. Emma was crouching now, her butt resting on her heels, hands flat on the wooden floor, knees well spread.
‘I can’t see the beach, Emma,’ Sally said, bottom lip protruding as it might have done when she was a child denied an ice cream. ‘Can you see the boys?’
Emma shook her head. She was too busy observing Sally, who was just the most beautiful woman in the world, she concluded. Such beauty seated in such a wanton manner, it was scandalous. The blonde hair and pure eyes, the fine nose and the virgin’s lips, the hands that had never experienced a day of work, feet too perfect, too unblemished to have been used for walking. The spread legs finishing the portrait. Emma’s eyes roamed decadently over Sally’s entire form again and again. Watching Sally’s eyes widen as Emma moved her own hand between her legs and started rubbing herself under her bikini. She moved the bikini aside so that Sally might watch.
Sally could not help but watch. The fingers began to press against Emma’s clitoris and circle slowly. Sally echoed Emma’s movement, feeling extraordinarily decadent doing so, as she too began to masturbate. The fine fingers and well-manicured nails on each of the women’s hands held the other transfixed. Soon these fingers were glistening as each woman slid her fingers through wet lips, then pressed them inside, only to return again to her clit.
Daytime sanity. Warm breeze sensuality. Sounds of children playing. Salty air. Husbands soon to return. Sally began to moan. This was enough to trigger Emma’s orgasm. She came loudly and obscenely. Sally was somewhat shocked by her friend coming so quickly.
Emma loved her little orgasm. The orgasm almost toppled her over. It was strange trying to keep balanced and coming at once. But now she gave it no further thought and leant forward on her hands and knees. Sally removed her fingers from herself as Emma, once again, brought her warm breath close.
Sally closed her eyes. The hot breath on her clit caused her to shudder. She was pleased with her position. She had loved the way Emma had looked at her. She could feel her lust. Sally felt very, very sexy sitting spread wide as she was. So naughty. So very naughty. She couldn’t remember having ever sat so crudely. Especially outside in broad daylight. Now that the neighbours had arrived their balcony seemed a very public space. Where were the boys? was the last thought she had before a great moan escaped from her lips. Emma’s tongue had touched her clit so very lightly, but that was enough. Sally could actually feel her body shift into another gear – lower, deeper – and caused her motor to growl.
Emma had dragged with her the residue of her orgasm, sensation enveloped her mentally and physically. Bringing her face up to Sally’s exposed sex she was picturing herself on film. She was her own voyeur this time. She wished she could get naked. She wished she might do all this in the direct sunlight. Sweaty thighs, glistening lips.
She brought her open mouth up to Sally and licked, so lightly and leisurely, tasting her, and received a delicious moan in response which reverberated through Emma’s own body. Emma dipped her tongue into Sally, truly licking her, tasting her, rubbing her whole mouth against that gorgeous wet flesh, thrilling at the sheer sensuality of her act. She had Sally now, too. She saw that her eyes were closed and heard the growl. Emma licked so gently that she thought Sally might not feel her efforts. She knew better, of course, having had David teach her the benefits of almost imperceptible touches building and building till all there was in the whole wide world was that gentle lick.
Sally had been stunned by the sweetest of touches, she barely even allowed herself a breath. She was so still, concentrating her whole mind on that one tiny spot and those breath-like kisses of Emma’s. She had no choice in the matter. The concentration was involuntary. Her eyes were shut, she was no longer on the balcony, she was no longer married, she was no longer anxious.
Softly, gently, the sweet wet caresses led Sally away. Such heightened pleasure! This was what she had wanted all day. Nobody knew her like Emma. Gone. They had gone off together now.
Emma listened to Sally’s breathing, heard her stifled moans, caught in half breaths, suppressed by the next gentle touch before they had time to blossom.
A different sound altogether broke into her thoughts.
David’s deep voice on the breeze. She was sure he was some distance away. But she couldn’t look to see. Kneeling as she was, she knew she couldn’t be seen from the beach or backyard.
Sally could be seen though. If the boys were coming back she had mere moments to move before they climbed those stairs and entered the main room. Once inside they’d see her. She wanted David to see her – that would be something. But not Mark – that would be something else. Couldn’t Mark drown and David come home alone? She’d like to watch him fuck Sally all night.
Emma wanted to keep Sally happy, but didn’t want her caught out. She had taken that delicious long route to orgasm that David was expert in. She knew so well how to excite Sally quickly to orgasm, as she’d done so much recently, but she wanted to take the long, low road. She wanted to share with her the kind of orgasm which breaks you.
And again that voice on the wind. Were they coming closer or was David’s booming voice just carrying from where they lay on the sand waiting for their women? Emma was growing excited now at the thought of being caught thus. And anxious. For herself, but mainly for Sally. She’d be devastated by a disclosure of this kind. She knew how Sally compartmentalised her sexual life. Emma was one world, where morality was flexible, and Mark was established in another, where normal people lived and never shall the two meet. Emma could cross over into Mark’s world, she could play at being the perfect wife and friend, but Mark could never
cross into Emma’s world. He wouldn’t survive the shock.
Now that Emma had distracted Sally so well, it was her responsibility to keep watch.
Short, cute moans were keeping the beat. Sally was drifting. Dozing on her back on a pool of pleasure. Buoyant. Light.
Now Emma was sure of it. The voice was closer. Damn the men! Damn them! She picked up her tempo, her soft tongue flicked gently, but faster. Sally recognised the change instantly. She came crashing down from her ethereal heights and felt an orgasm sitting on her chest, stealing her breath, bullying her. She resisted. Trying to recapture the feelings, the spectacularly lovely sensations from a few moments ago. She wondered at the change, couldn’t resist the urge and bucked against Emma’s mouth.
Emma was frantic. She didn’t want to leave Sally like this. So cruel. She was so excited at the thought of David catching her. Her tongue flicked. Her ears were cocked. Surely they must talk along some of the walk back, surely she’d have heard them by now. What was that noise? Was that the sound of thongs on the wooden steps?
She caught Sally up in a wave of pleasure. Hugged her closely with her quickening rhythm.
A voice. She listened intently. So many sounds. She was losing control over her thrilling body. She was shaking. Her rhythm was wavering. Her gentle tongue was becoming harder, meaner.
Listen. A neighbour? Mark? Listen.
Lick. Frantic licking. Sally’s moans grew louder.
Bright daylight. Sexy moans.
Boys home. Shaking. What faces they’d have!
On her knees. Lick. Flick. Lick. Come, baby, come.
They’re on the steps. Wait. The hose, they’re hosing down their feet. Surely that’s the hose. Oh, Sally! Come!
Sally was caught on the edge. She was swimming so hard and fast against the stream. She didn’t want to come. No! No! Not yet. Take me back, Emma. Take me back. Emma’s tongue was irresistible. The current of her persuasion.
‘Emma!’ she moaned. ‘Emma!’
The pleasures she was experiencing.
‘Fuck!’
‘Fuck!’
Sally pushed and pushed. No! No!
Emma could feel her friend fucking with her. Doesn’t she know the boys are downstairs. Keep quiet. Oh, God! Emma would not, could not stop. Not now, not ever. She’d drag Sally into the jaws of a lion. Come! Come!
The bucking began. Sally had no chance in hell. Over the waterfall she was swept. The whole balcony seemed to shake with her and she came. Her hands grabbed Emma’s head, holding her there till she could take no more and let go, and Emma raised her head. She could hear the voices clearly now. Sally was quiet.
Emma sat back on her butt. Sally lowered her legs and sarong. Emma did a quick check to see if she was presentable. She grabbed a towel from the back of a nearby chair and, exhausted, spread it out the best she could with little effort and lay on it.
She was done. Sally was done.
FOURTEEN
A very short while later David stood at the open balcony door. He had come back from the beach to see what had kept the women so long.
‘Have I caught you at a bad time?’ he asked, having surveyed the scene and been unable to decide what he was looking at. Something in the pose each woman held spoke volumes.
‘Emma just gave me a massage,’ said Sally, not even moving her head towards David. ‘She is so talented.’
Emma smiled shyly at these words. She could hear the recklessness of arousal in Sally’s tone. There is a fine line here, thought Emma, we might cross it before we even know we have. There was no response from David, Emma noted uneasily.
‘So very, very good at whatever she does,’ reiterated Sally, reaching across to pick up her sunglasses, which had been discarded amidst the madness. She put them on.
David smiled broadly at the voluptuous tone of Sally’s voice. The two women, together, placed as they were, looking as they did, aroused him. Something in the air, or something instinctive, alerted his senses to the sexual potential of the moment.
His thoughts, though, were elsewhere. He had come to drag them to the beach where Mark was waiting. He had tired of Mark’s bullshit and needed the women, who were far more diverting. However this unexpected scene had broken his flow. He had known what he was going to say when he found his wife and her friend pottering around the house, or sitting on the balcony drinking and chatting. But he had not foreseen this strangely disturbing picture. It felt like he was intruding.
Emma’s heart had begun to beat wildly in her breast, so startled had she been by David’s sudden and soundless arrival. She had obviously misinterpreted all of the sounds she had been hearing whilst kissing Sally. She had truly thought she was master of the situation, but in truth, she now had to admit, only luck had kept them from being discovered. She also had no real idea how long her husband had been at the door, or in the house, or under the balcony. How much did he know? What had he seen or heard? Sally had not been shy in her vocalisations. Was Mark with him?
Emma’s face was glowing from her hard work and Sally’s smile came from a very naughty source. Sally didn’t give a damn, she was feeling divine, she was in the place where the enjoyment of, or attainment of, pleasure will override all other concerns. What she wanted, and what her body was expressing, was that she wanted to be fucked, right now, by that great big man standing uneasily at the door. Sally quite reasonably expected David to be as unprincipled as his wife. Emma had never said as much – in fact, she had said the reverse many times – but surely, Sally reasoned, he must be as bad as Emma.
Behind her sunglasses, Sally glanced across at David. She’d been resisting the temptation, and now had to look away sharply, for she was unreasonably aroused by what she saw. He was standing in his board shorts, the same attire he’d been in over lunch, but how much more effective it was now! His chest was so naturally broad, his thighs so powerful, his great bulk overwhelmed her. Emma had just kissed her to orgasm, and how does she thank her? Oh, look away! You’re in no frame of mind to behave decently.
‘Are you coming down?’ asked David, dispelling the awkward silence with his mundane request.
‘Yes,’ said Emma, ‘sure.’
Emma still lay on her back, eyes closed. Neither woman moved a muscle. Not knowing what else to do, David stepped over to Emma and sat on a chair near her and directly across from Sally. He wanted to be part of this scene not just a spectator. He still didn’t understand the mood, but it was very attractive.
Something kept David from looking towards Sally. He gazed out to sea, up at the sky, down at Emma’s messy, shiny hair, her face, then down across her breasts to her pale stomach, and all the while, he knew he must finally look towards Sally. Maybe he had caught the slightest glimpse of her as he had taken his seat. Maybe some shadow in the corner of his eye warned him not to look. Had he noticed her shift in her seat?
All that morning he had enjoyed talking and flirting with Sally. Now that he had a better appreciation of her beauty he was unable to keep from staring at her when she was around him. Her lovely lean and tanned body was a delight for any male to look upon. Her easy manner and voluble talk kept him entertained and her body had kept him entranced.
Sally was very aware she was wearing nothing under her sarong. She had shifted marginally in the seconds David had first taken his seat. She’d spread her legs wider. The pleasure she received from this action was extraordinary. The tiny act ran contrary to her understanding of decent behaviour. She could hear her mother’s voice admonishing her even now. But this was no accidental slip, her mother’s hand couldn’t knock them closed, adult Sally had adult intent. She was opening herself for him. Provoking him to act. She was already anticipating his hips against her inner thighs. The width of them spreading her wider. She knew she was a mess beneath the sarong – reverberations lingered there still. She was in Emma’s world. Anything might happen.
The longer David took to look her way the more turned on Sally became. She wasn’t sure she had the nerve to kee
p her legs open. Emma might look. Her inner battle was hard fought on both sides. Her breath was short, she was squeezing the muscles within her, rhythmically, her toes on both feet were curled up, her hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly. Look at me! She knew from where David sat he could see right under the sarong. Hiding behind her sunglasses she could view him while seeming to gaze out to sea. If he would only deign to look. Do it! Do it! And do it right in front of your wife. Sally’s thoughts of David were exclusive, they were not fantasies of threesomes or more. She had him alone. She had him all to herself. She wanted his full attention.
David gave in to temptation. He looked at Sally. His first instinct was to look away, but his head remained as it was, caught in the trap set for him. Sally was staring out to sea. He thought he had unadulterated access to her. Her slim, tanned thighs led his eyes on. Just the nature of her pose caused him exquisite unease. His wife on her back at his feet, her friend’s legs loosely parted. He grew very excited, very quickly. The dimly lit regions under the sarong beckoned. His eyes strained to see what lay hidden in the shadows. Did she just part them further? He felt rather than knew for sure that she was naked beneath. Or was it hope? Had he suspected all along that these two women were lovers? He was as hard as a rock under his board shorts. He was being overt in his attempts to see. He was risking quite a lot by this. Sally, he knew, was a nice girl. She would not appreciate this kind of advance. Why do such thoughts and actions only serve to increase our excitement? Why is catastrophe a turn on?
David felt uncomfortable, his cock was hard but entrapped by his shorts. With his feet either side of Emma’s head he couldn’t shift his position without disturbing her, and nothing would make him do that.
Yes, Sally was naked beneath. He could see the folds of lips under there in the half-light. All this was taking place in slow, slow motion. Time had stalled. He could have sworn she had been wearing her bikini bottoms when they were messing with the barbecue. Had Mark taken them from her in the meantime? At lunch, maybe, under the table while they chatted.
The Secret Lives of Emma: Distractions Page 7