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I strongly suggest you read the first two chapters first, but here is a summary.
My name is Mike and I work at a University in Amsterdam. I’m completely infatuated with a young woman named Emma who works at the University sports center as a fitness trainer and weight room manager. I’m American, average height with a muscular build, brown hair and brown eyes. Emma is Dutch, but speaks perfect English, and does not look like a typical Dutch woman. Rather than being tall, blonde and pale, Emma is about a half a head shorter than me, has brown hair with blonde highlights, and a tan, olive complexion. Her eyes are very light blue-green. They’re gorgeous.
Both Emma and I are very fit. Emma is slim and toned, with perky breasts that are probably about a B-cup (Emma once told me she thinks it’s lame when women wear bras that pad their breasts: she’s content with hers exactly as they are). And Emma’s ass is sensational. I’ve been with a lot of women, and I have never loved an ass as much as I love Emma’s ass.
Emma has a boyfriend, and I’m married with three young children. My wife’s name is Christie.
Emma and I were acquaintances/friends for a long time before, very suddenly, our relationship exploded into an intense and explicit flirtation. I wrote out a fantasy that I had about her, and sent it to her as a gift. She loved it, which started me falling in love with her.
At the end of chapter 1 we were both alone at our homes (Christie was out with friends, and my kids were in bed) and we were chatting over email. In return for a sexy picture, Emma convinced me to let her watch me masturbate over the webcam while staying hidden herself. When I was getting close to orgasm, she sent a second photo, naked, close-up between her legs. It made me cum immediately. She came watching me, but then when we were through she said the second picture wasn’t of her, and cut off contact, feeling too guilty about what we were doing.
In the second chapter, Emma and I caved in to our lust again and had another encounter. She teasingly told me that she had masturbated about me in the bathroom after I left the gym one day, and then, in return for a look at her lingerie, she convinced me to go into the same bathroom and jerk myself off thinking about her. She told me to keep a little bit of cum on my fingers so that I could prove to her that I had really done it. When I finished and came out of the stall, she was there in the bathroom, and she sucked my fingers into her mouth, tasting my orgasm. Then she quickly stuffed her wet panties into my shorts, and pushed me out of the bathroom.
Two excerpts from the final moments of Chapter 2:
I was hard. My fingers weren’t entirely clean. I had a pair of wet panties stuck down the front of my shorts, and suddenly I was standing out in the open in the middle of the gym with a shocked, horny look on my face.
I pulled my towel off my shoulders and held it in front of my dick. As always seemed to be the case now, I left the gym hiding my arousal, but unable to hide from my arousal. I was smitten. I was spellbound. I was powerless. Emma was everything to me now.
Our first real kiss was cataclysmic.
I can’t actually connect it to a specific place in time between the events I’ve already described. The emotions associated with that moment are like massive gravity, a singularity that warps space and time.
I was leaving the gym, and Emma came around from behind her desk and said she would walk me out on her way to the equipment room. She had a small cart of equipment she was pulling behind her, and I don’t think I fully realized what was about to happen. And then we were alone in the hallway and she was leaning her back against the door of the equipment room, facing me, with one hand on the handle, keys in her other hand.
She was just looking at me.
And I realized I could kiss her.
My heart was beating so loud in my ears I wouldn’t have been able to hear her if she had said anything, but she didn’t.
I swallowed slowly, and spoke.
“One kiss. Just one kiss.”
I was scared, nervous, hot and hard.
She just kept looking at me, and turned to unlock the door. I said it again.
“Just one kiss. That’s all.”
I didn’t really know if I was asking for that kiss, or asking for that kiss to be all that happened. I knew that I didn’t want us to try and live out the bathroom scene I had written for her. I didn’t want anything that happened between us in real life to feel scripted.
And then the door was open and she was backing into the room, and the hallway was still empty, and I felt faint and powerless as I stepped into the room with her, begging for just the one kiss.
And the air turned thick as honey as I reached for her, and she turned her lips to me and I kissed her and it was perfect. Wet, and passionate, hard and sensual. Our mouths opened, our hands explored one another, our canlı bahis şirketleri tongues touched. And all this feeling welled up inside me and we both, very suddenly, broke the kiss, gasping. And then she pushed on me, speaking breathlessly but trying to sound forceful.
“Now get out of here.”
And I left.
And I felt that I must have been pale as I walked to the men’s change room. Thankfully the room was empty and I sat down on the bench, collapsing forward to put my face in my hands.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt such a potent mix of emotions before, and I couldn’t tell you what was hitting me hardest. There was the desire and arousal from what we had just done. There was so much guilt, because that was really the first no-gray-area, completely-unambiguous, physical instance of me cheating on Christie, and I really never thought I would ever do that.
There was fear, coming from two sources.
And the fear of getting caught was not nearly as strong as the fear of not being able to resist doing more with Emma.
Eventually, troubled as I was, I told one of my friends about Emma. I didn’t give him all the details, but I did say that we had kissed, and that I wanted more, but was hoping I had the strength not to let it go any further. He’s a really great guy, my friend, and full of virtue. He didn’t think that I was behaving very well, but he tried not to judge me, only to steer me back to the good side of the line.
He was pretty firm when he said that he would definitely never, ever cheat.
I’ve said that before. And believed it.
Now, I’m pretty sure that it’s bullshit. There are no definites, no absolutes when it comes to love and sex. There’s a circumstance for everyone. There is an undeniable moment for everyone. Everyone has a threshold for a reward that is too great to turn down. The best you can do is to set your threshold high.
My friend was in a relatable situation, because he was dating one girl, but had strong feelings for another one of our friends, a girl named Eve. I asked my friend if he would cheat if Eve tried to seduce him. He hesitated, but said no. I asked him what if it were Eve and Eve’s hottest friend and they wanted to have a threesome with him, no strings attached and everyone would swear to secrecy.
No, he wouldn’t. (Bullshit).
I asked him, what if it were Eve, and THREE of her hottest friends, and he hadn’t had sex in a month, and they were all 2000 miles from home.
No. (Does anyone out there believe him?)
I asked him if the answer would still be no if the girls offered to pay him 3 million dollars for the pleasure.
“Well, now we’re just getting ridiculous,” he said.
Yeah, that’s when it got ridiculous…
Maybe he couldn’t admit it, or maybe I am incapable of believing that any person could be infallibly committed to one person. But my point is clear, even if I might be wrong: Everyone has their breaking point, even if it’s ridiculously high.
Emma was my breaking point. The chemistry was just that strong.
And so I had kissed her.
And I had shared erotic writing with her. And I had masturbated for her.
And that incredibly erotic encounter that we had; that intimate exhibitionism… When she brought my fingers to her lips it made it seem inevitable that one day we would end up naked in a hotel room together.
But actually, we never would.
Thoughts about that morning in the bathroom interrupted my work over and over the rest of the day. I would ask myself, in disbelief, did that really happen? I was so hooked. I couldn’t do anything except think of Emma.
I wasn’t going to see her again for four days: The weekend, the Monday that she didn’t work, and then the Tuesday when I would normally see her was not going to happen because I had meetings most of the day, starting early. I would be busy until midafternoon, but by then it would be too late to see Emma at the gym, because her shift finished midafternoon.
Could I see her after her shift?
I didn’t know how to approach it. I just… wanted to see her sooner rather than later. But even that scared me. I realized that I wanted to date her.
I wanted to date her!
I wanted to bring her flowers. I wanted to cook her dinner. I wanted to see her home, look at her pictures, have her explain her mementos and memories to me. What had begun as just wanting to be locked in a luxurious hotel room with her for seven days and seven nights had become wanting to be her boyfriend. No… Wanting to go through the process of becoming her boyfriend, from start to finish, relishing every moment along the way.
My torment took on a new dimension; the physical, frustrated lust was joined with even more emotional turmoil, bouncing wildly between joy and distress. We had something so amazingly wonderful and exciting and invigorating. But we couldn’t have it. We couldn’t keep it. I couldn’t date her. canlı kaçak iddaa I couldn’t date her.
I couldn’t date her.
… But couldn’t I, at least, just hang out with her a little more?
A little fooling around at the gym was one thing, but seeing her outside of the gym seemed like a much larger violation than anything we had done so far, even though she had sucked my fingers into her mouth that morning. Even though she had briefly squeezed her wet panties around my cock just a few hours earlier… It didn’t make sense, but it did. Because seeing her outside of the gym was moving forward. It was developing the relationship. I couldn’t have this relationship.
I couldn’t have it, and I couldn’t accept that I couldn’t have it.
… Just a walk. Nowhere private, just a walk. I could just walk her from work to the train, and nothing too sexy could happen because it would all be very public, but at least I could see her. At least I could see her, sooner. And I could see her in her street clothes – I could know how she liked to dress. I could know that basic thing about her that I didn’t already know because I only ever saw her in her uniform.
I managed to beat myself in the internal debate. The eternal debate.
I e-mailed her.
I have to work Tuesday morning and most of the day, so I’m not going to see you again until Wednesday. But I was thinking I could probably find 30 minutes for a break around the same time that you finish work on Tuesday, and I’d like to come meet you and walk you to the station. It would be nice to be able to talk for a while without the whole gym watching us. Do you want to?
I was dreading radio silence. I knew it was likely, but maybe not – she had taken things so far that morning, would she really back off now?
20 minutes, and nothing.
An hour passed.
Three hours and her shift was ending in ten minutes. This was agony – I knew I might be checking my e-mail every 20 minutes for the next four days. But she wasn’t quite that cruel, it turned out, just indecisive.
I don’t know. I want to, but then I don’t want to. I don’t know what happened today. I’m not sure what I should do. Let me think about it. I will e-mail you on Tuesday before the end of my shift and let you know, ok?
At least there was a capital X.
It hurt that she could wait. It hurt that she was indecisive about waiting until Wednesday, and it hurt that she didn’t write back to ask me to come pick her up that very day. Was our attraction really that unbalanced? I was risking a happy marriage to spend time with her, and she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to see me.
But I knew she was hot for me. The difference wasn’t in the chemistry, it was in the morality. She couldn’t feel like a good person and do this at the same time, whereas I could. Maybe I was just better at fooling myself.
Tuesday came and I got nothing big done at work. I’d do something small, then check my e-mail. Do another, check my e-mail. Watch my email for 20 minutes, then go to lunch. Come back and check, my e-mail. Wait and then check it again. Wait.
I’m not a patient man. but when she e-mailed, it was all worth it.
Ok, I’m leaving in 20 minutes, come and meet me and you can walk me to the station. My train leaves in an hour.
No kiss, but that didn’t bother me.
It’s a 10 minute walk from my office to the gym.
I got there 10 minutes early.
I waited on a bench just down the road from the gym, not wanting to be too obviously waiting for her to any familiar people that might go by. When she rounded the corner and gave me her best smile, I almost passed out.
She looked so fucking amazingly great, it stopped my heart.
She had on this gorgeous royal blue dress that made her eyes flash. The material was high-quality, tight but not overly form-fitting (if that could exist), with straps thick enough to hide her bra, and a hemline about midway down her thighs, billowing out slightly with her movement, but too heavy to rise all the way in a breeze. It was sexy and beautiful, but just a little conservative. It didn’t say “fuck me.” Or, it did, but it didn’t say “fuck me” first. It said ” admire me, love me, and if I decide to let you, fuck me like a champion.”
I realized that she was dressed to kill. She had only e-mailed me twenty minutes ago, but she had known that morning when she had packed her work bag that she was going to meet up with me.
We hugged, but no kiss.
I don’t know if I can really explain why there was no kiss. I was absolutely in love with her, and I knew that she was quite infatuated with me (she’s not the kind who calls it love so easily). We had touched so intimately. She had taken my fingers in her mouth, she had tasted me, but now tasting my lips was a step too far.
And yet, it didn’t seem so crazy at the canlı kaçak bahis time. We were still trying NOT to do anything. It was not so illogical that after failing once or twice we might still try to keep ourselves from failing again. And besides that, the little bit of will to resist it made it all the more fun and exciting.
We walked and talked. I wanted to hold her hand but I didn’t. I wanted to stop her and take that kiss, but I didn’t. And I wasn’t dying, because at that same time as I wanted to get physical, I was just enjoying her company.
We stopped in a sunny park and sat down on the grass. I could see so much of her legs. The talk got flirty and very sexual, because nobody could hear us but our public location would keep us behaving, at least to some degree. We had questions about each other, about each other’s sexual experiences and our sexual tastes. Flirty questions. Flirty stories.
There was one question that she started to ask but then changed her mind – embarrassment or guilt, I’m not sure which was the reason. We were talking about our respective erotic fiction, the sex stories we were writing about each other. She wanted to know some details that would help her write my climax. But she stopped herself, blushing slightly.
Earlier, she had told me about her threesome experience (girl, girl, guy) with quite a bit of enthusiasm, but suddenly now, she got shy. I really, really wanted to know what question she felt she couldn’t ask. I wouldn’t leave the issue alone until finally she gave in.
“Imagine we were having sex and you were about to orgasm, and I said to cum on me anywhere: wherever you wanted. Where would you want to cum?”
Oh fuck! I pictured my cum on her everywhere. She waited for me to answer.
We looked at each other. Her look was so direct, despite being embarrassed to ask just moments before. I touched her high on her cheek, lightly and then moved to let the backs of my fingers brush across her lips. She stayed almost perfectly still, breathing lightly, but quickly. She had a small, shy, excited smile on her face and she let her lips part but didn’t kiss my fingers as they passed, she just let the slight friction pull her lower lip downward a bit – sexy as hell – as I traced a path low to the other side of her mouth.
I ran my fingers down her neck, watching the goosebumps form, leaving a hot, white line of lust in both our imaginations.
I drew my fingertips down from her neck towards her cleavage, until it was too ticklish and close so that she giggled and winced and I pulled my hand away.
I looked down at her legs. Her incredible, soft, tanned, firm, exposed legs. The way she was sitting with her legs stretched out in front of her, leaning back on her hands, the hem of her skirt barely covered her panties. I touched her calf, a tickled her upward to the outside of her knee.
“If I could cum on you anywhere I would cum inside you. And I’d cum in your mouth. And I’d cum on your lips, and on your whole, beautiful, sexy face. I’d want to cum on your breasts, and on your belly. And I would want to see my cum on your legs, your thighs, and higher”
I brought my finger lightly upward from her knee to the middle of her thigh and paused. Emma’s mouth was open and her eyes were slightly out of focus as she looked at me. She spoke and her voice broke a little.
“You could go a little higher.”
I let all four fingertips touch her now, painting a splash up high on her inner thigh, where it might land if it dripped from her lower lip, or from her nipple.
And then I drew another line, going higher still.
And she sat up forward to take her weight off her arms, and her hands came to her legs and I thought she was stopping me, but instead she gave me a teasing smile and raised her skirt just enough so I could see a triangle of lacy, panties – turquoise, again, she knew how great that color looked on her. I could see the line of her shaved slit through the mesh in the lace.
I let my hand go all the way up, letting my whole hand grip her inner thigh for the first time as I as I squeezed and massaged with the side of my hand firmly against her pussy. I pressed into the dampness for a moment before she finally stopped me, grabbing my wrist with one hand, holding it still.
“Ok, that’s enough, stop now.”
She was trembling.
“I would cum all over your pussy. All over your panties as you wore them. All over your gorgeous dress.”
She made a tsking sound, and firmly pulled my wrist into her, pressing her covered clit against my hand for one more second, and then moving my wrist back downward and fixing the position of her skirt.
“You are such a dirty, naughty, twisted man,” she said, her voice still shaking but a lusty smile on her face. “It makes me so hot…”
I was so hard. I moved my hand back downward, still reveling in the feel of her thigh in my hand; imagining her willingly – wanting to be – covered in my sex. The vision we had created lighted up my mind like a meteor shower. She looked at me and I leaned in to kiss her but she turned at the last second, showing a flash of guilt, a flash of her own torment. I kissed her bare neck and she moaned.
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