Story 24
Summary:
Emma, mid-twenties. She's looking for some fun since her breakup, and when her friend suggests a night out, she goes along to see what might happen. However, things go in a direction that she never could have imagined!
Paul and Mitch, mid-thirties. They're in town on business, and when they meet Emma, they decide to take her back to their place for some real fun.
Threesome, spit roast, oral, blowjobs, pussy licking, titty sucking, fingering, jerk off.
It felt as though it had been a long time since Emma had a night out. In fact, when she looked back, trying to work out just when it was, she was dismayed to realize that she couldn’t actually remember when it had been.
When her friend Chloe had said to her that it had been far too long, she had initially scoffed at the idea. She hadn’t thought that it was really that long at all.
However, when she stopped to really think about it, she had to admit that, maybe, Chloe was right.
"You're only twenty-five years old," Chloe had said to her, imploringly, "these are the best years of your life. Or, at least, they should be. You should be going out and having fun. Not staying at home, just counting down the hours till bedtime."
Emma had wanted to protest, but she’d known that there was little point.
Ever since she had broken up with Stewart, she had struggled to get back into the swing of things.
She felt as though Stewart had fooled her in some way. When she’d first met him, she had loved to go out and party. It had seemed as though he had the same kind of mindset as she did. At least, that was how it had seemed at first.
After they had gotten together, it wasn't long before he started to tell her that he preferred nights in. He had told her that he didn't really like to go out all that much. And slowly, bit by bit, she had felt as though she was getting trapped in this life that she didn't really want.
Perhaps, she thought to herself, it would have been different if there had been a bit of passion in their relationship, a bit of fire.
However, it seemed as though that had been taken off the table as well. After the first few weeks of their relationship, all the passion seemed to dry up.
She told herself that it was down to Stewart, and she was sure that was true, but it still didn't stop her taking it as a bit of a blow to her ego. She had grown used to exciting the passions, the desires, of men. Having a man who seemed so uninterested in her had forced her to look at things in a different light.
Sometimes, she found herself looking at her reflection in the mirror, trying to work out if something had changed.
She didn't think that was the case. In fact, if she were being completely honest with herself, she thought that she actually looked better than ever. But telling herself that and actually believing it seemed to be two very different things.
She remembered one day when she’d come back from the gym.
She had been wearing tight leggings that showed off her tones legs and clung to her full, juicy, ass.
She turned to inspect her ass, feeling pretty good about it.
She ran one hand over it, feeling each buttock, feeling the groove between them.
Then, she turned her attention to her front.
She had a good figure. She had a flat stomach that rose to large, full, voluptuous breasts. She was quite short, but that only seemed to make her breasts look even bigger.
She was wearing a sports top that clung to them just as her leggings clung to her ass. It was cut off, showing off her stomach, her tight abs.
She was proud of her body. She had worked hard to get it looking this good.
But what about her face?
She undid her long, blonde hair and let it cascade down her back, like waves of sunlight pouring over her. She looked more closely at her face - at her slightly upturned nose, at the splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks, at her cute little dimples, at her full lips, and at her large, blue eyes.
She noticed the way that men looked at her in the gym. She was sure that they found her attractive. And yet - somehow she couldn’t get much of a reaction from Stewart.
She told herself that she was still good-looking. She told herself that it wasn't her, it was him. But, still, her confidence suffered for it.
When she was finishing up, inspecting herself in the mirror, she heard the front door open. She smiled at her reflection. She thought about the way that the men in the gym looked at her in her tight outfit, how they admired her hot body. She had a plan, and in that moment, she was sure that it would work.
She walked out of the bathroom, heading down to find Stewart.
She caught sight of him before he caught sight of her.
He still looked good. Perhaps if he had let himself go, or if she wasn’t as attracted to him as she used to be, then it would have made a bit of a difference. However, there was no denying just how good he looked.
He was tall, dark, and handsome. He had black hair, slightly unkempt, and a brooding intensity to his face. His dark eyes seemed to bore into her soul. His mouth seemed to permanently pout in a way that drove her wild.
He had an athletic build, trim and lean.
He was dressed casually in a shirt and pants. She looked at him for a moment, admiring him, before he looked up at her. She was sure that she would get some reaction from him when he saw her in her gym kit.
However, instead, he just looked her up and down for a moment.
“Been at the gym?” he said, disinterestedly.
“Yep,” she said, seductively, walking across to him.
She put one hand on one of his shoulders and pushed her body against his.
“I’ve been getting myself all worked up,” she purred, doing her best to push her mouth up to his ear, wanting to get close enough that she could whisper to him, “I’m all sweaty now.”
“Hmm. Maybe you should go and have a shower, then.”
Her hand ran down from his shoulder, down his back, down to the top of his pants where it rested.
“Maybe I could do with a hand.”
He turned to her, looking somewhat confused.
“A hand?” he said, incredulously, “What on earth for? Have you pulled a muscle or something?”
She looked at him with her own look of incredulity. She considered an answer - maybe she could say something about pulling his muscle? But it sounded too corny when she thought about it in her head. Maybe if she felt as though she was getting somewhere with him, she would have tried it, but there just didn't really seem to be much point with the way that he was acting.
"Never mind," she sighed, "I guess I'll go and get showered and changed."
“Excellent. There’s a show on soon about bridges that I thought I might watch. Maybe you can bring me a sandwich in a minute.”
She looked at him in disbelief. She could feel a growing anger within her. She wanted to say something - and yet, in the end, she had just gone upstairs for her shower.
Just as she was about to get in the shower, she had a change of heart. She decided that she was going to have a nice, long bath instead. She told herself that he could get his own damned sandwich if he wanted one that badly.
She ran the water nice and hot and then stripped off, peeling her tight gym clothes off her body.
She climbed into the water, feeling her skin prickling, and her muscles started to unwind immediately.
She sank down into the water, with her head just above the surface.
As she lay there, starting to relax, she thought about Stewart and the way that he had acted.
She told herself that it wasn’t her, it was him. She told herself that she was, in fact, still as attractive as she had always been, and that it was his problem, not hers. She tried to persuade herself that all of this was true, but it wasn’t easy.
She closed her eyes and thought about how it should have been.
She thought about the way that he should have looked at her, how he would see how good her body looked in her gym outfit.
She imagined herself telling him once again how she had gotten herself all worked up.
He’d turn to her, looking her up and down, and she’d see that old light of desire in his eyes.
“Oh, really?” he’d say.
“Mm-hm. I’ve been getting myself all hot and sweaty.”
“Well, maybe you should go and take a shower.”
The way that he’d say it now would tell her that his desire had been awoken and that he was thinking just the same things as she was.
“Maybe you’d like to give me a hand,” she’d suggest to him, looking deep into those dark eyes of his.
“Maybe I would,” he’d respond.
Then, he’d take her by the hand and lead her upstairs to the bathroom, practically running as they went there.
As soon as they were there, she thought about him taking hold of her, kissing her, his hands on her body - grabbing hold of her ass, running down to her toned thighs.
She thought about his hands on her bare waist before pushing up beneath her sports top, grabbing handfuls of her soft breasts.
All the while, she’d be undoing his shirt, her hands on his body, wanting him.
He’d push her top up and then he’d bend down to her breasts, sucking on the greedily. She’d be able to feel the desire then, feel just how much he wanted her, and she’d be moaning, again and again.
This is what it should be like, what it should always be like.
He’d pull her top the rest of the way off, push her leggings down, and she’d pull his pants down till they were both naked, looking at one another with desire lighting up their eyes.
His cock would already be stiff and ready for her.
Then, they’d climb into the shower together.
Their hands would be all over one another.
She thought about taking his hard cock in her hand, jerking him off, as one of his hands went between her legs and began playing with her, pleasuring her.
She thought about him dropping to his knees, grabbing handfuls of her ass and pushing his face between her legs. She thought about his tongue working on her, licking at her, pleasuring her, showing her just how much he truly desired her. That was what she really wanted.