by Pamela Prim
Emily felt herself light up, and she tried to hold back her grin. A little more time with Henry was exactly what she wanted. The casual, flirtatious looks they shared across the table had stirred her blood and filled her gut with the warmth of arousal. Even if Henry wasn't serious, thinking about him in naughty ways was enough to get her riled.
"There's a spare room for you." Mary seated herself at her place and dug the side of her fork into the chocolate cake on her plate. "I'll prepare it for you after dessert. You boys can settle in the living room and continue to chat."
"So generous of you. Thank you."
Dessert continued in placid silence. From time to time, Emily would look up from her cake to spy upon Henry. Most of the time he was engaged in conversation with her father, but from time to time, Emily's eyes flicked up to gaze directly into his. Each time their gazes locked, a chill shot down her spine. It wasn't just that older men were more mature and grounded, but that how young she was in comparison felt so naughty. The thought of a fully grown, experienced man pushing her down to claim her untouched, virgin body as his own had given her more than one overheated night beneath the sheets with nothing but her hand for company. Emily was young enough to easily be his daughter. How other men would whisper and point to see them together in public, envious of him and desirous of her. How many older men would fantasize about her once they knew she'd slept with one of their own? Emily shifted her weight as she sat at the table, her sex slick already. What a fantasy Henry was. And all in plain sight of her family.
After dessert, Mary disappeared upstairs to fix one of the spare bedrooms, and Henry and Patrick disappeared into the living room to continue to talk and reminisce over old times. Emily passed the living room after seeing that the dishes were washed and spied upon the two of them on her way up the stairs. Henry was seated in a recliner facing the doorway, an easy, content expression on his face. When she passed by the doorway, his eyes flicked to her and his grin broadened, and then he looked away.
Emily took to the stairs with her heart racing. A simple look was all that it took to speed her pulse up, and she knew that Henry knew as much. He was playing games with her now. What he had said at dinner had been meant to rile her. He was as attracted to her as she was to him.
The upper floor of their house was spacious, boasting five bedrooms of which only two were regularly occupied. Her father had taken one of the bedrooms as his study. There, the walls were lined with books and academic papers, a desk littered with written works and ballpoint pens. The other two were for guests, but guests were few and far between. Henry would be the first one to stay with them overnight in just about as long as Emily could remember.
Emily's bedroom was the very first at the top of the stairs, across from one of the spare bedrooms. She could hear her mother rooting around inside, changing the musty sheets and freshening up to prepare for a guest. Instead of offer to lend a hand, Emily ducked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Summer break before university meant no homework, but Emily had another kind of project to attend to. Instead of invest herself in books and papers, she invested herself in her appearance.
At dinner she had dressed modestly, as her parents preferred her to. A white sleeveless blouse with a high collar was hidden beneath a dark turquoise lace blouse, her legs hidden beneath black slacks. None of that was going to cut it. Not tonight. Not for Henry. If he was going to flirt with her, she was going to flirt back. It was time to have a little fun.
The back of her room was devoted to closet space. Emily parted the white slatted folding doors and observed the clothes she owned, all hung up before her. Prim and proper. Modest. Article by article, she discarded each piece. Nothing was going to cut it.
She was going to have to try another approach.
Emily removed her cardigan and top, revealing small breasts cradled in a simple white bra beneath. The pants came next, and she stooped over to pick them up and fold them, placing them in the hamper in her closet. A pair of white panties matched her bra, the back of it hugging the tight, round outlines of her ass. Emily was a slender girl, but she had enough curves where they counted. Many girls had bigger breasts than she did, but what she had was cute and just enough to have fun with. Instead of mature, she was girlish. Innocent. Pure. To Emily, her appearance added to the fantasy. The thought of giving her young body to an older man and letting him do with it what he pleased had her hot.
Slender fingers saw the back clasp of her bra undone. Over one shoulder and then the other, Emily brushed the straps down until the cups parted from her perky breasts and left them bare. There would be no need for it with what she was wearing, not that her breasts were in need of much support, anyway.
From amongst her possessions, Emily chose a little summer nightie she often wore to bed. Made of a beautiful, light cotton, it fell high on her thighs to show off her slender legs and tease at the hidden treasures it barely concealed. The neckline plunged to reveal her cleavage in a dreamy sweetheart pattern, and thin spaghetti straps rode over her shoulders to expose the soft outline of her collarbone in full. It was the most revealing article of clothing she had, and although the white color lent it an angelic appearance, Emily was well aware of how seductive such innocence could be. Tonight, she hoped to play it up.
Dressed, she turned back and forth in front of her full length mirror, assessing herself. Bare footed, bare legged, she was nymph like. Blonde hair fell in lazy ringlets down either shoulder, set perfectly. There was little else to touch up. All that was left to do was to make herself known, and then disappear for the night and take the memory of Henry's reaction with her. Tonight, she was going to cum to fantasies of him until she passed out from exhaustion.
Emily padded from the room and headed downstairs. Each bare step on the carpeting left her more eager for what was to come, and it wasn't long at all until she'd made it down the stairs and lingered in the doorway to the living room. From where she stood, Henry faced her fully, but her father sat in a chair facing away from the door. If she knew him as she thought she did, Emily was sure he would not turn to face her. To her father, guests deserved all of his attention, and beyond that, often times his thoughts were so scattered he didn't think to pay attention to his family. It wasn't the first time he had dismissed Emily without much recognition.
It wasn't long before Henry caught sight of her, eyes glancing quickly before returning to her father, and then doing a double take to look back at her for an extended period of time. Surprise widened his eyes just a little bit, enough for her to notice it from the doorway. Emily flashed him a warm smile and pressed her shoulder against the doorway, keeping her gaze on him.
"Sorry to interrupt," she chimed after a long pause, letting Henry devour her body with his eyes. "I'm going to bed now. I thought I'd say goodnight before I tucked myself in so as not to be rude."
For the first time since she could remember, Henry was speechless. Although he did his best to keep a straight face and look unaffected, she knew she'd crept beneath his skin. The man shifted his weight where he sat in an attempt to hide a budding erection. She'd hit him in the best of the worst ways.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," her father replied without turning. He'd never see how his daughter taunted their guest with her body. How she played coy with a man close to three decades older. What a delicate little game it was.
"Goodnight, Emily," Henry said. Although he did his best to mask it, Emily thought she could hear husk in his voice. Without listening for it specifically, she was sure she never would have noticed, and her father certainly thought nothing of it. Patrick continued where they had left off, discussing the value of geographical surveys in little charted areas of the world. Emily tuned out of the conversation quickly, but she did not lose focus on Henry. And, try as he might to engage her father with his eyes, he was having trouble keeping his gaze away from her. Emily was determined to give him something worth staring at.
As she propped herself up from the doorway, one of her hand
s brushed against the exposed skin of her thigh and ran upward slowly, lifting the bottom of her nightie against her hip to expose the creamy track of thigh beneath and the arch of her white panties. Although the center of her body remained covered, Henry was given his first peek at the fabric of her panties that covered her shaved mound. Emily had dropped her gaze innocently, and when she looked back up with a doe-like expression, Henry was visibly bothered — so much so that her father stopped his story midway through a sentence.
"Are you alright?" he asked. Henry swallowed hard before he replied.
"Yes. Sorry. My mind was elsewhere for a moment. Do me a favor, and let's restart from the last sentence."
Emily's part was done. She'd tempted and teased, and now that she'd played with him and left him flustered, she would curl up in bed and play with her clit until she came to the thought of the man sitting just below her in the living room. The man who would sleep just across the hall from her. Bare feet padded back up the stairs, and Emily enclosed herself in her room just as her mother finished up in the guest bedroom. The timing was fortunate — no one but Henry had seen the state of her undress.
The light switch flipped off, already undressed, Emily headed for her bed and curled up beneath her thick blankets. With gentle affection she slid her right and down her chest and along her stomach until she pulled forward the end of the nightie to leave her lower body uncovered. The same hand tucked itself beneath her panties and traveled over her soft, smooth mound. A single finger dipped between the lips of her sex, and she began to stroke her clit with tiny, teasing motions.
Already wet from the flirting at dinner and the fantasies of Henry's body beneath the African sky, Emily's body was more than ready for her attention. The little nub she toyed with engorged quickly, and amplified pleasure swelled with in. Henry and the silver hairs around his temple — would the hairs elsewhere on his body be greying from early aging? She imagined his chest and stomach, and what they might look like speckled with silver. How magnificent an experienced cock might look nestled in a dark patch of pubic hair struck through with steel? The finger at her clit circled a little faster, and Emily lifted her hips just a little to grind against it in response. Tonight the fantasy was more real than ever.
Long ago she had learned to mute her activities, so no gasps or moans tumbled from her lips. Instead, she buried her face against a pillow and fought to regulate her breathing. Playing with herself always left her forgetting to breathe, and as her heart raced and her lungs began to burn, Emily knew she had to calm down. If she came this early into the night, she'd waste the best material she'd ever have to a quick fix. Thoughts of Henry had to be savored. She had to let herself edge for as long as she could before succumbing to orgasm.
A few minutes bled into tens of minutes, and then longer. Emily was no longer aware of time. From thought to thought she moved, one time imagining the texture of Henry's coarse bristles on her chin and cheeks as he kissed her, the next picturing how he'd look between her legs, his body suspended over his by the support of his palms on either side of her head. And then, how he'd have her kneel on the bed like the bad, naughty girl she was, but instead of lash her for her behavior, he'd teach her what bad girls really deserved. How he'd drive his thick cock into her pussy and breed her from behind like the slutty little animal she was. Young enough to be his daughter, and how he'd fuck her. The swell of orgasm loomed, and Emily had to find the strength to lift her finger from her clit. No. No, it wouldn't be yet. Not until she'd worked the thoughts to exhaustion.
The night advanced without Emily realizing it. It wasn't until she heard the rumble of her father's snores from down the hall that she realized just how late it had become — she'd been touching herself this entire time, and not even once had she allowed herself to cum. When it finally did happen, it would be bliss unparalleled. Henry had worked her into a frenzy.
Eyes that had been closed to better visualize the man sleeping across the hall opened to check the time on her digital clock on the bedside table. Just after midnight. What time had she finally gone to bed? Emily couldn't remember. With a sigh she turned her head to settle back onto her pillow, finger still lazily swirling against her clit, when she saw it. Sometime during the night her bedroom door had opened, and in the darkened door frame stood a figure. It was hard to make out details against the dark, but Emily knew who it was by instinct alone. A pulse of pleasure ran through her, and the finger that had been working her clit over stilled and then withdrew from inside of her panties. How long had Henry been watching her?
"Why don't you come in and close the door?" she asked in a whisper. Every inch of her felt alive and invigorated, awoken from her ceaseless teasing and Henry's earlier flirtation. If he stepped through that doorway, Emily knew that there would be no going back. The invitation had been issued, and now it was up to Henry to give in to temptation and accept it.
There was a long pause, and then the shadow in the doorway moved. It entered the room hesitantly, then pushed the door closed until it latched in the doorframe with a gentle click. Emily heard the lock turn, and knew that Henry had made his choice.
The form crossed her bedroom floor until he stood at her bedside. This close, Emily could make out his features. A lean body with strong shoulders. The gorgeous cut of his face, more blocky in the darkness, but even more handsome for it. What she was wasn't enough — Emily craved to explore more of him. How would his mature cock feel when it filled her? How would it feel to lose her virginity to an old man?
"You really have changed since the last time I saw you." The voice broke through the darkness, distinct despite its hushed tone. "You're not the shy little girl you used to be."
"No," Emily whispered back. "I'm not a girl anymore. I know what I want, and who I want... And tonight, I want you."
The bed groaned as one of Henry's knees met the mattress. Emily's heart jumped into her throat. Was this really happening? She was having a hard time believing that the man she'd thought such dirty things about reciprocated her feelings.
"Is it true what your father said?" Henry asked. The second knee met the mattress, and he crawled across the bed to straddle her. Him atop the covers with his knees on either side of her thighs, Emily beneath the covers trying to recover her breath, the darkness provided them with an anonymous shroud that made the upcoming union even hotter. This was her father's house, and Henry was her father's friend — and here he was, preparing to ravage his virgin daughter. "Are you really not interested in boys? Have you not been fucked before?"
The way the word left his lips made her shudder. Orgasm was so close that the utterance alone near pushed her over its edge. The kind man she'd known as a child had changed. Now his interest was in her body, and taking advantage of her. Emily was eager to give him everything he wanted.
"Never," she whispered. "I'm a good girl. I think about my grades and my future, not boys. And certainly not grown men."
"Of course you don't," Henry murmured. His palms braced themselves on the mattress to either side of her head, and he lowered his face until their noses nearly brushed. Emily could smell him — aftershave and clove. The smell was not unpleasant, nor was it overpowering, but it was distinctly masculine and distinctly mature. No boy smelled like this, only a man could. "Just like you didn't lift that tiny dress of yours up to give your perverted family friend a view of that tight little body of yours. You're too good of a girl for that."
The side of his nose brushed down the side of hers, and Emily closed her eyes. Henry's lips hovered above hers, just slightly brushing. The breath was caught in her throat, and although her lungs screamed for air, she could not breathe. Would not breathe. It felt like if she stirred the moment would disappear or that she would wake up from his dream. But the man that was on top of her was no figment of her imagination. Henry was real, and he was there for one purpose and one purpose only.
"I'm a very good girl," she whispered against his lips. They were hard and a little dry, so different from her p
lump, youthful pinks. "I always do what I'm told, and daddy told me never to settle for boys."
"And what about men?"
But there was no time for her to reply. Henry's lips were upon hers, hungry. A gasp died in the back of Emily's throat in response to his voracious appetite — the passion was bruising, and their teeth clacked together and he laid claims on her mouth. The short bristles along his chin and jaw brushed against her, coarse and unmistakable. Emily had never even kissed a man before, but now that she'd started, she knew she never wanted to stop.
One of Henry's hands, fingers calloused from time and travel, ran through her hair and clenched down to hold her in place. There would be no escape. As they kissed, his other hand lowered the blankets from her body, and knee by knee he allowed them to pass beneath him until they only covered her calves. Emily kicked them the rest of the way off, the cool air of her room even colder after so long spent touching herself beneath the blankets. Goosebumps raised across her skin.
The kiss broke, and Henry's hand hardened its grip on her hair, holding her head firmly in place.
"I can smell you," he uttered. There was a rasping quality to his voice that had not been there at dinner, and Emily knew she had drawn it out of him. "You've been touching yourself, you filthy little girl. No boy has ever had you because you've been too busy playing all alone. But all that's about to change."