The Secret Lives of Emma: Distractions

by Walker, Natasha

  ‘Emma, be reasonable,’ he said, pushing her hand away from his fly.

  ‘No,’ she said adamantly. She wanted her husband to break. Paul would have had her on her hands and knees on the nature strip. Paul knew when a woman was serious.

  ‘Why do you have to do this?’

  ‘Because you’re as hard as rock and you really do want to fuck me here in front of the world. You want to. I know you do.’

  ‘I don’t. I want the comfort of our bed, baby,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t you find me sexy?’ she asked, assuming that he did.

  ‘I do. I do, but I don’t want to be caught on the street. It’s …’ He wanted to use the word common but couldn’t find the nerve to. He was a little ashamed of Emma’s behaviour.

  ‘Right,’ said Emma, buttoning up her pants as she dropped off the fence.

  ‘Em!’ said David, plaintively. Then, ‘Emma!’ in a tone he might have used on a naughty child.

  She ignored him and started to walk away down the hill. He was on her in a flash, as she knew he would be.

  David grabbed her from behind, clutching both of her arms in his large hands, gripping her biceps. She was carried rather than led off the street.

  ‘You make me so angry the way you do this, young lady!’ he hissed in her ear. ‘I’m going to make sure you’ll never want to do it again.’

  Emma had no words to say in reply. He was dragging her under the large block of flats at the end of Clifford Street. There was undercover parking, visible from the street, with shadowy areas for desperados.

  Before Emma knew what was what, she was pressed against cold, painted brick, face first, and her jeans were being ripped from her. She obliged her attacker by stepping out of them. Now she was naked from the waist down. Generously exposed. There was no hiding this. Anyone from the street could see her bare behind. She was feeling giddy.

  Then he entered her. She hadn’t even the presence of mind to note him undoing his pants, or touching her, or anything. Her mind was in a spin. The smells of oil and petrol, of dust and rubber filled her nostrils. His hands held her. Her own gripped the edge of the wall in front of her. Her elbows bent under powerful thrusts from his hips as he fucked her. She was collapsing against the wall. He pulled out. And hesitated. He held his cock in his hand. She was still in the wake of his last thrust when she felt him pushing against her arsehole.

  ‘Bastard!’ she growled.

  ‘Slut!’ he said loudly. The word echoed around the carport. Emma felt the truth in the word and pushed back against his cock, taking it in roughly and painfully. She swore loudly but gripped his thickness with her sphincter muscles.

  David was more circumspect. He held off for a moment but his wife was having none of that. She was feeling truly perverse. She pushed against his cock, forcing it in deep.

  ‘Fuck me, you shit,’ she whispered.

  David’s mind was screaming for sanity. Here he was fucking his wife in the arse in someone’s car space. They might come home. Anyone might see them from the street. His whole career might be thrown away because his wife had just stopped short of calling him chicken.

  But he was so fucking turned on! He had lost something. When he had pulled out, he was intending to close his pants and leave her there. But instead he had been compelled by his own thumping desires to fuck her in the arse. She compelled him. Her whole body, the situation. The dirt and grime, the wet boxes and the scratch on the Audi over there. In short, everything pushed him to do it. He loved when she asked for it. He’d never met a woman who asked to be fucked in the arse. She’d come and come. He’d never known the like. But this time, he had chosen.

  Nothing could be as exciting. He had his back to the street. What a fool! He had to turn and look over his shoulder or under his arm. But the more he worried the more he enjoyed it. The more he thought someone might spring them, the greater his pleasure. He was finally getting it.

  ‘What are you doing to that poor woman?’ came a voice from the darkness.

  Both Emma’s and David’s hearts thumped at the sound. David thought his had burst.

  The voice was that of an elderly woman. David was busily doing up his pants and strolling towards her. Emma had ducked down and was trying to find her jeans and her sandals. She could still feel David’s cock in her arse.

  ‘She’s not a poor woman, she’s my wife,’ she heard David say, and she laughed. She couldn’t help herself. Then she heard the voice say something to David and he mumbled a reply. Emma pulled up her pants.

  ‘We’d better go. She was threatening to ring the police. But I talked her down,’ he said.

  ‘I wonder how long she was watching?’ said Emma as they left the scene of the crime.

  David put his arm around her as they crossed the road. He was buzzing. He was harder than he’d ever been. The old biddy! What a sight to see! Thinking about what they had been doing was more exciting than doing it. His mind had caught up with his body at long last. He was not done.

  Emma was not done either. She had to be finished off. Being caught had left her shaking, as though she’d been in a mild car accident. Or robbed at knife point. She felt weak through excitement, through the sudden loss of adrenaline.

  They walked in silence. Emma was watching every shadow. She wanted … That’s all she knew. She wanted. When it came she would know its name.

  David resented the interruption. He realised the old lady felt she had a moral obligation to make sure a woman wasn’t being abused. He was a large man, larger in the dark. She was brave to intervene. But still, she might have known. Damn that woman! He was of a rebellious turn now. He’d stare down anyone who came between him and his pleasure.

  They were nearing Awaba Street. David wanted to finish what they had started. He was searching the street for a suitable venue, but could find none. The whole suburb was silent, it seemed to him. The sound of their feet as they hit the pavement was overstated. A car broke the spell by turning onto Moruben Road. The headlights caught them both for a moment, sending a thrill through Emma’s body. She wished she might have been caught by those headlights. Bright burning lights on her bare behind as she readied herself for her husband.

  How dull these streets are, thought David. He was very excited. Here they were walking arm in arm, shivering through demented lust and contemplating acting out their mean desires behind that bush, or right here on the concrete, or over that fence on that fellow’s front lawn.

  The whole of Mosman slept. There was no one to watch. He was feeling bold. The darkness made him brave. He thought of fornicating on the beach on a crowded Sunday afternoon. Why not? It was fun. A recklessness had entered him. He was being bad. Naughty. He would be worse from now on. He would never stop now. He’d fuck Sally. That he would. His wife’s best friend. Someone else’s wife. Well, Mark’s wife, so that didn’t matter so much. The conceited ass deserved no better. He’d make her his mistress.

  David stopped in the shadows behind a bush and kissed his wife. He kissed her with a great deal of passion. He was very excited. His life was exciting. While he kissed her he began to undo her pants. He had them down to her thighs and was pressing his fingers into her. Emma was heavy against him. He bent his knees and brought them both to the cold concrete. He told her to get on her hands and knees. Another car came along the street. The lights were blocked by the bush but in the indirect light David could see his wife on all fours. She looked like the worst girl in the world. He undid his pants and moved in behind her. Emma accepted him again and he began to fuck her in earnest.

  Emma had thrown all caution to the wind now. She was happy to moan. Happy to be found on all fours on the pavement not ten metres from the corner of Awaba Street. A block from her own home. A neighbour walking a dog might come around that corner and find the Bensons on their knees going for it. Emma would be staring into the eyes of a dog.

  Anyone might come from behind them. The street ran for a hundred metres or more before dividing. They were in direct line o
f sight for a pedestrian. David was fucking her arse harder than he might have done in the safety of their bedroom. He was incautious.

  But Emma was taking him readily. She was touching herself. She’d been close to coming in the carport. Here she felt an orgasm upon her now. She came loudly.

  David couldn’t come. He kept fucking her though. He wanted so desperately to come in her here and now, on the pavement. Never in his life had he contemplated such a scene. That he should initiate it and revel in it! He was amazed at himself. The hard rod that had taken the place of his cock would never come. He withdrew.

  David stood and looked up and down the street. Not a soul. He stood with his erect phallus exposed and began to masturbate. He’d walked this street many times with his wife. Never had he imagined himself performing an act like this. The street would never be the same. He would never be the same. He stood regarding the mess that was his wife. She lay face first on the concrete path. He smiled. Then lifted her up, pulling up her pants in the process.

  A few minutes later they were home. They locked the door and headed up to bed. Emma had gone directly into the bathroom. David started to undress. He was still erect. He stripped off completely. He walked to the balcony doors and opened them.

  Stepping out he surveyed the district. His blood pounded in his ears. He could feel his heart pumping. Below him and to either side of him the lights of Mosman houses and street lamps dotted his dark vista. Everywhere decent people slept. There was no moon in the cloudless sky, just a myriad of stars. Blindfolded he would know he was near the water. He could feel the harbour, and the deep waters of the ocean beyond the heads. And as he stood he thought he could hear the small waves washing up on the beach.

  His wife had just turned on the shower. He imagined her stepping into the hot stream of water, then left his sentry post to see this for himself.

  Opening the en suite door he found Emma already under the shower. He was quick to join her. She lazily took his swollen cock in her hand and began to wash it with soap. She could barely stand. She wanted him to wash her but he obviously had other thoughts.

  Emma was always turned on by the sight of his obvious arousal. But she was spent. More so since the excitement of their exhibitionism had drained from her, leaving her limp. She had been so happy to have initiated David in bad behaviour. She now deserved her bed, deserved sleep. She had nothing left to give. She hugged her man and felt him press against her stomach. Then she felt her feet leave the ground. He had lifted her in his arms. She gripped him tightly around the neck. He held her wet buttocks in his large hands and she wrapped her tired legs around his waist. He was inside her again. He felt bigger, harder, meaner now.

  Her pussy was worn out, sensitive, everything was exaggerated. She believed she could feel him throbbing inside her. Blood had rushed to her clit. She was weary but he held her. He lifted her and lowered her. She could feel every inch of him leave and return. He did this slowly, he did it deep. Every nerve was alert, the pleasure from this simple, slow, deep fuck was amplified. If he asked nothing of her she would live in this state. The feeling was akin to an orgasm. She might well have been coming, but her muscles were too tired to spasm. Each new thrust drew from her open mouth a sigh. The hot water streamed over her back.

  David was savouring every sensation. His cock had never given him such exquisite torture before. On every entry he felt ready to climax. His cock began to contract, but he was empty, through, done and finished. Yet he remained hard. The slower his entry the greater his experience. His arms were beginning to burn. But he would not let his wife escape from his grip. He knew she was tired. He knew she was done, but he could also hear her soft, delicate sighs and knew she would not mind him taking liberties with her. He fucked this way till he could lift her no longer, then found reserves of strength and fucked her some more.

  Emma loved being held like this. She loved his strength, the power he had over her, the way he made her feel as light as a feather. She had hugged him close, her arms tight and locked around his neck, but now her strength was fading. Her legs slipped first but David held her, then her arms gave way, and David placed her gently back on her own two feet.

  He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack and roughly dried her, before doing a similarly rough job on himself. He switched off the light. Without speaking he led Emma to the bed and lay her on her stomach. The mattress was high above the floorboards, her feet dangled, her toes just touching the floor.

  David stepped in between her legs. The room was dark. Emma’s face was pressed into the soft mattress and she sighed a great sigh, which was interrupted when she felt her husband enter her again. He was in deep. He began to fuck her with all the power his hips and thighs could generate.

  Gone were the delicate sighs, Emma was screaming out profanities reserved for this late hour. The doors to the balcony were wide open. The whole hillside would be forced to share in the lovers’ extreme nocturnal coupling. They were like animals heard beyond the light of the camp fire.

  ‘Harder!’ she demanded.

  David gripped her fleshy butt as tight as he dared and pulled her to him as he thrust with his hips. They met in painful collisions of flesh and bone which drove his cock further and deeper into her.

  ‘Faster, you fuck!’ she screamed, and he fucked her even faster and harder than before.

  ‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’ she moaned, in quick succession, with each powerful thrust. The profanity was repeated over and over again. He went on and on without pause, becoming more and more rough in his handling of her. He was chasing down an orgasm that was quicker than he could ever be. Emma was spurring him on with her profanities. She wanted her man to come, she didn’t care when but she wanted him to be satisfied. She wanted him to fall down exhausted and sated.

  ‘Fuck me, you shit!’ she howled. ‘Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit! I’m, I’m, I’m fucking coming, you shit!’

  David felt her buck under his grip. She was all over the place. David had dug out of her a buried treasure. X had not marked the spot. Emma was convulsing. Her eyes were open but she could only see her orgasm. The bizarre lightshow of a dream. Her whole body was rattling. Her bones were shaken loose, her muscles were jelly and still her husband fucked her.

  David could feel his own orgasm nearby. He could hear it breathing deeply. It was out of breath and could run no further. There he was leaning against that tree catching his breath.

  ‘Fuck!’ he groaned, loudly and deeply. And it was over. It was short, sharp and was a mix of both pleasure and pain. He was overwhelmed and fell to his knees.

  He lay his head on Emma’s arse.

  ‘I love you, Emma.’

  ‘I’ll have your baby,’ she countered. ‘I’ll do anything you want.’

  An hour later the only sound in the room was that of their breathing. They’d both fallen asleep moments after they had found their pillows. There had been no further talk that night. After all the tumult and uncertainty of the last few days, all was well. They lay in bed reconciled, and asleep.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Two weeks later and David was in a different mood altogether. He was lying naked, on his back, in a huge bed. Sally lay with her head on his chest, her leg thrown over his, her body pressed against his side. She too was naked. David was staring across her beautiful tanned body through the enormous window at the northern sky, blue and cloudless.

  Sally was a very different woman from his wife. There was an unexpected ease in his union with Sally. Even now as she lay with him, he felt no urgency, or anxiety about her. She was quiet and calm. She gave him the distinct impression that what he had done to her had satisfied her. He was realising he’d made a momentous choice, the greatest in his life thus far, and knew that, although he was intellectually confused, he was emotionally fulfilled. Sally’s behaviour, her acceptance of the moment, her obvious satisfaction aroused him. He lifted her face to his and looked at it. How had he not noticed just how beautiful she was? he asked himself t
ime and time again. He kissed her. Her kiss was soft, calm, drug-like. She lingered. There was nowhere but here in this kiss. David marvelled at the difference between his two women.

  David had taken a suite at one of the best hotels in Sydney, right on the harbour. The room was large, opulent and was graced with enormous floor to ceiling windows, which being on the thirtieth floor gave extraordinary views of the Harbour Bridge and Opera House. But from the bed all was sky. It was a wonderful way to begin an affair.

  David was already busily hunting down an apartment in Kirribilli. He wanted views, he wanted it serviced, he wanted it to be modern and the best his money could buy. Once David decided something, it tended to stay decided. All that first week he met Sally for a few hours in the middle of the day. Before heading home David would swim a few laps. He’d feel reinvigorated after thirty laps and, as an added benefit, all the multifarious scents of the day would be burnt from his skin by the chlorine of the public pool.

  David had never, ever, felt better. He would arrive home and take his wife in his arms. They were now trying to get pregnant. David was a new man. Bigger, broader, more potent. He was riding the first big wave of his extraordinary success.

  Sally, in stark contrast to David’s behaviour, had not allowed her husband to touch her since she had left the beach house. Her household had become unendurable as a consequence. Mark was on his best behaviour and tried every trick in the book to coax his wife out of her apparent gloom, to no avail. They lay in their marriage bed separated by a foot of disgruntled air.

  After the first week it became apparent to Sally that David intended to make a mistress of her instead of, as she expected, leaving Emma and then marrying her. She became despondent. Finding herself in this position required new ways of thinking about herself. She felt ashamed of herself and avoided Emma when she could, knowing she could not avoid her entirely.

  She had never intended being the other woman in her best friend’s life.