by Ray Gordon
'It's all right,' he crooned. 'Now just move your bottom forward a little, and I'll show you what I'm doing.'
'Are you sure...?' she whispered. 'Okay...' and she wriggled a little, sliding to the front edge of the sofa until he knelt between her knees, 'if you're sure...'
'You see here?' he breathed, pushing his hands up to her flat stomach and folding her skirt around her hips.
'No, what?' she whispered, watching his every move with endearing intensity.
'Here...' he said, and moved his hands back down between her thighs until his thumbs pressed and stroked her cotton-covered sex lips.
'Ooh,' she gasped, tensing slightly. 'Arthur, I don't think—'
'You see, they're damp, just here...' A finger centred and pressed a little more between her hidden sex lips, making her gasp again and her cheeks blush even more. She inhaled sharply and arched her back a little, just her shoulders supporting her against the back of the sofa, and he devoured the vision of her breasts pressing forward against her blouse, the outline of her awakening nipples clearly visible.
'Can you feel that, my dear?' he asked, and watched Emily nod, her eyes closing, her succulent lips parting; gorgeous, pouting lips just made for...
'How does it feel...?'
'I-I'm not sure,' she whispered. 'Nice, I think. But you shouldn't be—'
'I'm just demonstrating what trouble you could get into. How do you think a lad would react if he knew you were turned on and wetting your knickers like this?'
'I - I suppose he might try to fuck me,' she said, the frankness of the words sounding incredibly sexy coming from such innocent lips.
'He might,' he agreed. 'Or for starters he might do this...' and pausing a moment to make sure she was still under his spell, and the wine's spell, Arthur leaned closer, lower, pressed his face between her parted thighs and touched a light kiss to her panties, inhaling her sweet fragrance through flared nostrils.
'Oh Arthur...' she sighed, 'you should stop now. This isn't right...'
Arthur pulled back a little and watched the beautiful girl. Her eyes were still closed and she was mumbling soft words, her head resting back on the sofa. The wine glass was sloping precariously to one side in the loose grip of her delicate fingers, threatening to spill the last of its contents onto his sofa. He carefully prised it from her, not wanting to break the spell, and stood it quietly on the carpet.
'How did that feel, Emily?' he whispered, and there was a long silence while she tried to decipher how it felt.
'Naughty... it felt naughty,' she eventually whispered back. 'I think I should go home now and wait there...'
'But I've not finished the first part of your education yet,' he said. 'You do still want me to help you, don't you?'
Emily's little tongue appeared and licked her lower lip, and then she nodded.
'Good girl,' he drawled.
'But I'm confused,' she confessed in hushed tones, her eyes still closed, her head still resting back. 'I know I'm naïve, but this can't be right. We shouldn't be doing this.'
'Nonsense, my dear,' Arthur coaxed. 'Just trust me. I'm doing all this for you. You'll thank me, I promise you will.'
In Emily's drifting thoughts Arthur's voice sounded distant. She could feel his fingers and thumbs stroking her thighs and touching her sex lips through her panties, and it did feel nice. The idea was to keep him on her side, not to upset him by being silly. Wishing her father would hurry up and phone so she could have her chat with him and then go home, she couldn't help moving her hips a little closer to the edge of the sofa so those fingers could touch her a little more easily. She should go home, but she felt nice and relaxed. If only her father would hurry up and phone...
Arthur lowered his head and kissed the front of her panties again. It was the end of the day and his stubble rasped lightly against the pure softness of her thighs, which instinctively squeezed against his face on both sides. Emily moaned, breathing deeply, and moved her hands to his head, her fingers entwining in his greying hair.
He moved his hands and squeezed them beneath her thighs, cupping them and pulling her closer. He inched his hands higher, until they were sandwiched between his sofa and her exquisite buttocks. Emily's breathing quickened and she lifted her head from the back of the sofa, watching with misty eyes the man squatting between her parted thighs, his head moving as he kissed and suckled the front of her panties. It was all so surreal. She'd known this man for years. He was their next-door neighbour, a good friend of the family, and here he was massaging her bottom and pulling her crotch tight against his face, nuzzling against her intimacies like a hungry animal. The shame was terrible... the excitement wonderful. She knew it was hopelessly, horribly wrong, but she also knew her hands were urging his head tighter between her thighs, knew her hips were urging her sex against his lips and nose.
A delicious sensation grew in her stomach and her head lolled back again, her eyes closing once more. It was building, threatening to overwhelm her. This could not happen. This must not happen. Arthur was carrying her towards a climax with his mouth. She gasped and stiffened, feeling his tongue press against her panties, taking the soaking material a little way between her sex lips. This was shameful, and just as her orgasm was about to burst forth Emily pressed against his head. 'No,' she pleaded, 'you can't, please, stop now, this is wrong...'
'Emily, which way do you want it?' Arthur asked, panting a little, sitting back on his ankles.
Emily opened her eyes and looked quizzically at the man kneeling between her parted thighs. 'What do you mean?' she asked him, all too aware of the tight material of her panties so exposed and vulnerable before him. 'Which way do I want what?'
'I'm trying to help you, but I'm not sure you're accepting my help.'
'I do—'
'You're resisting me, Emily.
'No, I'm not.
'I'm prepared to go as far as covering up for you where your parents are concerned. They've been my good friends for many years now, but still I've agreed to cover for you. But it seems that whatever I try to do you resist me. It's got to be give and take, young lady. This isn't a one-way street, you know.'
'I do know that,' she whispered urgently. 'I'm not resisting you, honestly I'm not. It's just that I don't want you to... I've never... I'm embarrassed, Arthur, don't you understand that?'
'And I'm at a loss as to what more I can do to help you,' he countered. 'Don't you understand that?'
'Yes, but—'
'The choice is yours, Emily. Which way do you want it? Either you want my help or you don't. It makes no odds to me. You either stay in all the time, as your father instructed, or you go out at night and have some fun. I either cover for you or I don't. You think about it and decide while I refill your glass.'
He stood and picked up their two glasses, then went back out to the kitchen to open another bottle.
Arthur had been a good friend over the years, but what, Emily wondered, was he thinking? What did he want, exactly? He was thinking something, planning something, but what was it? What thoughts lurked in his male mind? Was he sulking? Was he disappointed in her? He wanted to continue being her friend, that's all. As he said, he wanted to help her. Was it as simple as that? Would it be best to stop being childish and let him give her the benefit of his experience?
He returned, looking stern, and gave her a fresh glass of wine. He then sat in his armchair and stared at her as she sipped it, eyeing her shapely calves, her thighs - significantly together again - her trim waist, her breasts, her inviting cleavage. Remaining silent as he scrutinised her, he sipped his fresh glass of wine too.
'I wonder when my father will phone,' Emily said, wanting to break the uncomfortable silence enshrouding the room.
'I don't know,' he murmured dismissively. 'You might as well go home and wait there. There's no point in sitting here all evening. I'll come and get you when he does.'
'Oh, all right,' she said, finishing her drink and standing up, swaying a little from the alcohol, fe
eling bad, like she'd let Arthur down. 'I might see you later, then?'
'I'll come and get you when he phones,' he said bluntly.
Returning to her house on decidedly shaky legs, Emily sat on the sofa and shook her befuddled head. Once again she was totally confused. She wanted to get on with Arthur, wanted to accept his help, but he was making it impossible. No, she was making it impossible. He was right; whatever he'd tried to do to help her, she'd resisted him. She was behaving like a spoilt brat. He was only trying to help, she reflected, reclining on the sofa, her head spinning when she closed her eyes. He was only trying to help.
Chapter 11
Waking on the sofa the following morning, Emily looked around the lounge and rubbed her bleary eyes. The wine had made her sleep heavily. Feeling a little groggy she hauled her aching body up from the sofa and stretched her arms. What would today bring? What else lay in store for her?
Going through to the kitchen and filling the kettle, she couldn't think why her father hadn't phoned. Perhaps he had but Arthur thought it too late to disturb her. Again wishing her phone wasn't out of order she spooned some instant coffee into a mug and looked out of the window. It was a warm day, but raining steadily.
After a bowl of cereal Emily took a shower and put on a summer dress. Gazing in the mirror and admiring the way the dress accentuated her feminine curves, she wondered what Arthur was doing - and for some strange reason, what he'd think of her in this dress. Vague, blurred memories of something that had happened between the two of them the night before meandered in and out of her head...
Dismissing the silly images, putting them down to being so unused to drinking wine, she reflected that it would be nice to have a quiet day, deciding to do a little housework. No Arthur, no problems; although she very much doubted she'd be left alone for very long.
Noticing the pink vibrator as she was about to close her dressing table drawer, she felt her stomach somersault. Should she try it? Clutching the rude device she examined the smooth shaft and the rounded tip, the lure of it overwhelming, the temptation too much to resist. Feeling tense and a little hung-over she was in need of the relaxing relief of an orgasm.
Closing her bedroom door, she slipped her panties off and lay on her bed. Blushing as she parted her legs, she pulled her dress up over her stomach and gazed down at the gentle rise of her sex mound. Stroking her soft pubic curls and caressing her sex lips she felt a quiver run up her spine. She was becoming wet and held her breath as delicious sensations simmered, unable to suppress a little moan of pleasure.
This was wrong, she thought, imagining her father discovering her as he apparently had before. How was she ever going to face him again?
But desperate to appease her increasing desires such thoughts drifted from her head, and she switched the vibrator on and slipped the buzzing tip between the wet lips of her vagina. What if Arthur heard her, if he had his ear pressed to the other side of her bedroom wall? The last thing she wanted was to get in the bad books of her next-door neighbour again.
Her clitoris responding to the heavenly vibrations, the sensitive protrusion sending ripples of pleasure through her contracting womb, she closed her eyes and relaxed. 'Mmm... God,' she breathed as her clitoris pulsated beneath the buzzing tip of the vibrator. Her juices of arousal flowing freely, seeping down between the rounded cheeks of her bottom, she arched her back and gasped as she neared her climax. Never had she known such amazing sensations. Massaging her clitoris to orgasm with her fingers had been nothing like this. Her young body trembling uncontrollably, her eyes closed, she rolled her head from side to side and cried out as she finally exploded into a blissful orgasm.
Secretly thrilled that she hadn't disposed of the vibrator as she had previously vowed to, Emily shuddered as her orgasm ebbed. Her thighs tensed, her stomach hollowed, her breasts rose as she arched her back, and she again cried out as her young body quivered for long moments and then gradually went limp on the bed, doing her best to stifle her final sighs of delight.
She'd keep the vibrator, she decided dreamily as a final, gentle wave of pleasure washed over her. She'd hide it somewhere. She'd found a secret lover, a secret friend, and she wasn't about to give him up now, although when her parents were back she'd have to wait until they'd gone out before allowing her secret lover to appease her yearnings.
Switching the vibrator off as she thought she heard Arthur calling her, she propped her languid body up on her elbows. He wasn't in the house, was he? She should have known he'd not allow her any privacy, but she'd thought things had changed back to the way they always had been between them.
'Are you there, Emily?' he called.
'Damn!' she breathed, slipping the wet shaft beneath her pillow, hastily getting off her bed and just managing to slip her panties back on before she heard his footfall at the top of the stairs.
'Ah, there you are,' he said, opening the door and walking into her room. He was wearing a light raincoat, the shoulders of it a little wet. 'Are you ready?'
'Ready?' she frowned, turning away and trying to conceal her flushed complexion, her heart hammering in her chest.
'Are you ready to continue with your education?'
'Education...?' Awful images flickered into her head, but were gone again almost instantly. All she could really remember was up to the point where Arthur was sitting beside her on his sofa. Any other vague memories of what happened after that were too ridiculously awful to have actually taken place. She must have been dreaming really deeply during the night.
'Last night I asked you which way you wanted it,' he reminded her. 'So have you made your mind up?'
'I don't want anything any way,' she returned, brushing her auburn fringe away from her flushed brow as she gazed out of the window and tried to remember more of the previous evening. 'And I don't think you should barge into my bedroom like this.'
'I'm playing an active role in your life, Emily,' he stated matter-of-factly. 'If I need to come up to your bedroom to speak to you, then I will.'
'Surely I'm allowed some privacy?'
'Emily, time is running out,' he said, getting back to the point. 'Your parents will be home before we know it. So I'll ask you again: which way do you want it?'
'Which way do I want what?'
Arthur sighed, somewhat impatiently. 'Do you want to enjoy more freedom?' he asked. 'Do you want me to cover for you where your parents are concerned?'
'Yes,' she hastily confirmed. 'I mean... Arthur, I really don't know what I want.'
'Well as I said last night: if you want me to be your friend, your ally, then I'm here. And if you want to learn from my experience in life, well then again, I'm here.'
'I just want to be normal,' she said sadly, rubbing her temples, the excessive wine consumed during the previous evening still making her feel less than great. 'That's all I want, Arthur.'
'And I can help you in that,' he said. 'So it's up to you...'
Up to her third glass of wine Emily could remember what they'd discussed the previous evening. 'Nothing's changed,' she said warily, unsure of what had been said after that point. 'I still want your help, Arthur. I still want you to help educate me.' She couldn't remember much, if anything, about the education bit, but it sounded like something she needed.
'Very well, that's good.' He smiled and nodded with satisfaction. 'Now let's go round to my house and have a nice cup of coffee, shall we?'
'Did my father ring last night?' she asked, following him down the stairs to the front door.
'No,' he informed her. 'It must have been too late by the time they got back from their evening out.'
Emily reached to take her light, waterproof jacket from the coat stand, but Arthur stopped her. 'No,' he said, 'there's no need for that. If we hurry you'll not get wet...'
'You'll not get wet,' Emily grumbled to herself as she ran round to his front door, just as a particularly heavy deluge swept down from the grey rain clouds. 'Yeah, right.' She stood hunched under his porch and turned to watch h
im sauntering up the path, the collar of his raincoat turned up against the sudden squall. Despite only being out in the open for the few seconds it took her to run down her front path, the few yards along the pavement and then up Arthur's front path, her dress was soaked through and clung wetly to every curve of her shapely body. Her hair was wet, and strands clung to her cheeks and her fringe was stuck to her forehead.
'Ooohhhh, I'm cold,' she complained, rubbing her bear arms as he unlocked his front door and ushered her inside and along the hall into his kitchen.
'Cold?' he queried, filling the kettle. 'But it's a warm day, despite the rain.'
'It might be,' she moaned, 'but I'm wet and therefore I'm cold. It's all right for you,' she added, nodding at his raincoat as he took it off and hung it on the peg on his backdoor, 'you had that on.'
'True, I did,' he chuckled, eyeing her wet dress as he took two mugs down from a wall unit, the delicate material clinging to her, moulding to her firm breasts, her flat tummy, her youthful hips and her toned thighs. It was virtually transparent, her underwear just teasingly visible through the drenched material. 'You'd better get out of that,' he advised, indicating the garment, watching her shiver a little.
'Take it off?' she gasped. 'I can't do—'
'You'll catch your death if you don't,' he said across her. 'Come on, don't be silly, I've seen you in your underwear before.'
'Yes,' she said, 'but that's when I was younger. That was different. It didn't matter then.'
'Take it off, Emily,' he said firmly. 'I don't want your mother coming home and finding you ill with a cold or the flu. I don't want her accusing me of not looking after you properly.'
'Well have you got something else I can put on instead?' she asked.
He chuckled. 'And do I look like a man who'd have a wardrobe of women's clothing just hanging in his bedroom?' he asked.
Emily blushed prettily, knowing it was futile to argue, and unbuttoning the front of her dress she slipped it off and stood uncomfortably, holding the sodden material in one hand, uncertain what to do with it. Arthur gazed at her, her tight white bra holding her breasts snugly, faint round shadows indicating the outline of her nipples, and down to her tiny white panties, another faint, triangular shadow evidence of her pubic hair.