Sharing a Cuppa with Emma
Coffee with Emma is sensual, it's heavenly.
I sit opposite her at a small wooden table, outside one of the central city cafes I occasionally frequent. With Emma, I'd go there every day for a month or a year, or for an hour or two, just to see her. Even thirty minutes is enough, as long as I see her tomorrow.
I have my usual latte, complete with a leaf pattern on the froth. Emma has something rich and dark, which swirls dark and mysterious as she stirs it with a tiny spoon. She's like that; there's a depth and a darkness I'm submerging in. There's a bright golden light, too, filtering through from the sky above. The light dances and glints on the surface of the slowly rotating liquid. There's more than just the cup when it comes to coffee.
We're gliding past anal sex. It's still my taboo but for Emma, it's a lesson taught to her. I'm the one showing her something new. My consideration will comfort her. Filled with care.
My voice is low, so she leans forward a little, and her cleavage becomes more visible, her breasts pushed up a bit by the lacy cups of her bra. She tells me she tightens her bra a notch tighter before she comes to see me, and loosens three buttons on her blouse. It's a warm day, but her nipples create dark shadows on the blue silk garment she wears. I refer to her as "Beauty" because she is. Beautiful.
Bobbie's right, Emma looks amazing in blue. Emma looks stunning in nothing but her black velvet choker, with two delicate diamonds in her earlobes. Emma's breasts expand when she's aroused, and she crosses her legs to lure me, squeezing her slender legs together. The hem of her skirt rises slightly. The strap of her bra is too constraining now. She fantasizes about my fingers loosening the clasp, her breasts enveloped in my hands. She takes a sip from the cup, turns with a glance and she smiles. I made sure we just caught that moment.
I frequently observe women and the bras they wear beneath their business shirts. It's a stereotypical male gaze, but I don't mind it. Those seductive thin straps some small-chested women can wear, the way they reach up to their neck, their fingers dropping down to feel the weight of their breasts on the strap. Someone tried to tell me once, maybe she's just adjusting her bra. I don't believe that - why would a woman suddenly start noticing the weight of her breasts? It's about flirting with a man. Some females may have their bras too tight all the time.
We're having one of those moments when the world seems to shrink down to just these words, these words you're reading. You're inside my thoughts, focused on my writing. Emma is vivid in my mind as I type, her hands holding the cup. She's pondering. She's getting more familiar with me - my silence, my calmness. She's more accustomed to me: my moods, my consistency, my love for her.
Her honey blonde hair is loose, and the gentle breeze caresses a lock, brushing it against her cheek with a gentle touch. Or was it me, touching her warm skin?
Emma is singularly focused, just as I am. Shortly after we met, she stated, "I need companionship to rebuild trust and eroticism to rejuvenate life." I'd say we're accomplishing both, but I particularly cherish our intimacy. I mean, talk about anal sex in a cafe, with a cup of hot coffee, isn't it intimate?
As we rise from the table, I give a tip to the waitress. The girl is young, she's attractive. I swiftly notice that, but it's Emma I'm gazing at. She looks at me and smiles. "It's that undivided attention thing, isn't it? I'm definitely not used to that."
Emma links her arm in mine, and we stroll together to the car. She's slim and delicate beside me, only reaching midway up my shoulder. We move synchronously; she naturally synchronizes her pace with her partner, an inherent trait for a dancer. I may not be able to dance like she does, though; I'm a water creature.
Emma lives in a cozy apartment in the south-west corner of the city, and we both have a key, so I take her there. There are two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, along with a lounge room, kitchen, and laundry on the ground floor. There's a permit system for parking on the street, which is a narrow, one-way road. I frequently name the roads and streets in my stories, but in this case, I must check the name... my goodness, what a dull name: Smith Lane! Why did I think of that?
The suggestion of being past logic appeals to me, and I believe Emma agrees, judging by her standing next to me. Bobbie explains simply, "It's just love. You two are entwined now. Have sex to solidify that bond." Bobbie's succinct words contrast with my verbosity.
I am well aware of what's happening here. I'm approaching sex with Emma, but I'm hesitant, not completely ready yet. I desire to treat her with dignity, to use a slow, sensual approach. It's a self-centered move - I want Emma to cling to me, to whisper in my ear as she whispers into my neck with her lips.
"You're going slowly, so carefully," she tells me. "I like that. Most of the men I've dealt with used me - they didn't care about me." She touches my arm. "Bobbie is correct, though; we just need to have sex. Come on, indoors, upstairs. Go ahead and shower," she instructs.
I unlock the front door and place the car keys on the entryway table. I notice Emma's arched back as she climbs the stairs. She possesses a sway, a slow swivel. I traverse through to the kitchen and pour water from the refrigerator into a glass for myself and another for her. I follow her up the stairs.
Emma is already in the shower, her clothing discarded on the bathroom floor as a jumbled mess. I perceive the slender silhouette of her body and the fragrance of soap and a subtly perfumed shampoo. She leans against the frosted glass, her arms outstretched, her nipples flattening, and a slight mound of her abdomen pushes up against the glass.
When Emma emerges from the shower, I kneel with a large, unblemished towel in hand. I wrap her in it, turning her into a young woman being enveloped by her father.
She grabs an additional towel and ties her hair up in it. "Your turn," she says, watching as I remove my clothing. I step into the shower and turn the water on, since I'm taller than she is. I wash myself with the same soap, so my skin smells like hers.
After stepping out of the shower, Emma is seated on the edge of the sink, legs wide open to welcome me. "Let me climb on top of you," she suggests as she wraps her arms around my neck. We are now skin-to-skin, and she is laughing.
"I'm wet," she announces, "even though I was just dried. I'm wet due to being dried," she elaborates.
I can feel her warm, enveloping heat against me, her dark place pressing against my cock. I'm rock hard and fully erect. Emma squirms against it, but she is tight, forcing some resistance. When she locks eyes with me, her pupils widen.
"Fuck," she mumbles softly, "Fuck. I'm very... aroused." She reaches for the cabinet on the wall with the mirror on the door, says, "Bobbie has some lubricant in here somewhere. We use it for anal sex. The double dildo isn't as wide as you, though." She locates the tube, twists the cap, and coats my shaft with the lubricant. It's chilly on my cock, and she applies it generously. "I want to slide onto you promptly," she whispers sexily, "I want to slide onto you quickly."
She's still holding onto me, her arms around my neck. She scoops up my soaked cock head, places it at the entrance to her anus, then gravity and her body weight help bring me in. The lubricant is thick, and Emma's anus is so warm that it doesn't take me long to venture further inside, inching deeper inside her.
"Carry me to the bed," she asks, and I support each ass cheek in a hand, and the act of carrying her presses my cock deeper within her with each step. Emma's anus is so tight, it's exquisite, better than coffee from a mug.
In the bedroom, I place Emma on the bed, my penis half inside her butt, half out. Her movements, the ten steps taken, caused her to moan, a thrilling experience for her and a firm hold for me. I'm not leaving, I'm just going deeper. Her butt is warm and tight, and I can feel her heartbeat, quick and rapid within mine. I don't move, just staying half inside her butt, half out. She gazes at me with sleepy, drugged eyes. Emma licks her lips, and her breaths come in short, quick gasps.
"Fuck me softly," she whispers softly, "fuck me fast." I feel her body soften around me, and in that moment, her tight canal opens up, allowing me to slide in deeper and deeper. My entire shaft is inside her now, with the root of my penis pressing against her tight rim. I'm immersed in Emma, and all I am is my penis.
"Fuck me hard if you want to. I'm used to that."
I make love to Emma quietly, keeping my eyes on hers, watching her soul dissolve into mine. She raises her hands to my chest, tugging and pinching on my nipples. I reciprocate by fiddling with her breasts. Flat on her back, her breasts are flattened, but her nipples are hard and firm between my fingers. Emma licks her lips again, they're dry as a result of her quick, shallow breathing.
I bang her ass faster, creating heat, friction, and swift slippery movement, and her hips are thrusting up, pushing her body back onto me.
"I'm full, I'm so full, ohhhh, fuck, David, fuck me." Her fingers move to her clitoris, swiftly stroking, finding her rhythm there, flicking back and forth, finding the pace that she desires. "Fuck me!" My spine is pulsing with my impending climax, and we're pounding vigorously, filling the room with the odor of our sex - ass, penis, cunt, cream. We're moving faster now, making love without any inhibitions, her anus is hot, wet, and pulsing with energy. Heartbeats cease to exist, replaced by the movements of our flesh, fuck, oh my fuck, ahhh, Emma, my...
I'm on the verge of orgasm, my tongue is suctioning onto her mouth, and my tongue is thrusting into her mouth, sucking and licking, her tongue thrusting back in response. My cock is ramming her more briskly.
"More of this, more," she murmurs, "I want you, want you, Christ how I want you, please, please..."
I'm thrashing Emma harder, I'm almost there, Emma, Emma, mmmm, her anus clamps and tightens around me like a powerful vice, I'm about to explode my semen into Emma's anus, my cock throbbing pulse pulse pulse, pump pump, I grunt out, fuck, my baby ohhh honey and with a long groan, Emma also comes, her fingers working furiously in her vagina. Then her hands are squeezing my ass cheeks, pulling me deep into her body, even deeper, I can feel her warmth enveloping me and I'm bobbing into her anus, my semen firing inside Emma's ass.
Fucking Emma's ass is as good as coffee, but when we speak about it at our usual cafe, it's our words that are intimate and revealing, awakening our desire.
Emma grins and lifts her fingers from her bra strap. "Fuck," she murmurs. "If that's what it's like in your mind, I can barely imagine what it's like when you finally let me into your bed."
"Over there, that's Bobbie," I pointed.
"Shit," she blushed, "I could feel that on the train."
"Was it your favorite pole?" Emma asked.
"Hell no. Someone else was sitting on it."
"So, did you feel the pole by the door?"
"Nope. The one next to the door was open."
"Are you still wet?" asked Emma.
"Yup."
"So am I."
Under the table, two hands were cupping the bulge in my pants, and one of them squeezed it tightly.
