Sinners All Even Then

During the years I was in college and then completing my Forester qualification by working for two years in State forests, I rarely saw Emma. The Christmas party, just described, was an exception

On another brief holiday at home, Helmut took me up into the mountains to show me proudly the partly forested hunting grounds he had recently bought. It was a considerable investment. He had prospered by turning his father's already profitable business into the largest building company in the region.

But three years later, at the time of my -- for me -- so fateful brief holiday with my parents, Helmut was no longer alive. Seven months earlier, on the hunt for a trophy chamois buck, Helmut lost his footing. He fell down a thirty-metre rock face to his death.

After gaining my certificate, I had taken a job as a Forester Assistant on a large, ex-aristocratic estate near the Bohemian border. The distance as well as the fact that not much drew me back to the place of my childhood, meant that I had not seen my family for more than two years.

So, one day in May, taking my annual leave, I mounted my trusty 250 Puch and rode -- stopping only for fuel and coffee - the four hundred-plus kilometres home.

Bursting into my parents' kitchen I shouted, "Mother, father! Welcome home your stranger-son!"

Embarrassed I fell silent. Sitting in the kitchen were not only mother and father but also Kate. Her little son, two-year-old Toni, was clinging in shock to her legs. But then the grown-ups burst into laughter and welcomed me home. Eventually, even little Toni smiled shyly at his crazy uncle.

As I settled down with coffee and cake, Kate was struck with an idea:

"Your coming home needs a proper celebration, Tom. Come with us tonight to Emma. She has invited Hannes and me for dinner. That's why I'm dropping off Toni for a night with Oma and Opa. You'll come with us, won't you, Tom? Emma will be delighted. She likes you; she always asks me about you. We'll pick you up at eight?"

Although tempted, I begged off. The first night home, I felt, I should spend with my parents. Also, the long ride home had left me fit only for an early night.

Kate, somewhat grudgingly, accepted my excuse.

The next morning, when Kate came to pick up little Toni, told me that Emma was disappointed that I could not have come. She, therefore, invited me for a compensatory dinner tomorrow night.

Kate with a mischievous grin, offered to ring Emma my answer, as my parents had no phone.

Flattered, pleased, and curious I accepted.

I rode to Emma's villa, on the other side of our town, on my bike; as usual, in those more carefree days, in everyday clothing and no helmet. I rang the doorbell and within seconds, Emma opened the door.

She smiled at me, "Welcome, Tom! I'm so glad to see you again. It has been years."

We hesitated a moment but when Emma opened her arms I stepped forward into a close, not-at-all cousin-like embrace. Emma was not gingerly bending in for a welcoming peck on the cheek. Her body -- I could feel her breasts, her belly, her pubes -- warmly pressed against mine.

I could not help it: my cock was -- embarrassingly - stirred alive.

When we slightly pulled apart, Emma clasped my face. "I'm so pleased to see you again, Tom, all grown up. And you look and...", she grinned and seemed to press her crotch against my embarrassment, "feel like a hunky forester! Your naughty sister told me you have turned into a sexy man."

Then Emma kissed me again, this time firmly on my in surprise and embarrassment half-open mouth. As her lips teasingly opened to match mine, I tasted her quivering breath. But then she released me.

Taking my hand, she led me, not as I had expected, into the dining room.

In the living room, on a large coffee table, Emma had beautifully arranged an elaborate feast of cold cuts, cheeses, savouries and differing breads, with the plates and glasses and shiny cutlery set for two. The light of two candles flickered on the silver of the bucket where an opened bottle of champagne cooled in ice.

Emma led me to sit on the long, multi-cushioned divan along one wall. As I looked at Emma in the luxury around her and the feast she had prepared, I suddenly felt very young and unworthy.

Pointing at my flannel shirt and cotton slacks I stammered, "Forgive me, Emma, for turning up like this. I didn't bring my forester's suit and ties. There is little I could take on the motorbike. And I did not know....".

I looked what must have been pleadingly up at Emma.

All in widow-black, she was for me, despite her warm welcome, a picture of intimidating elegance. She wore, what must have been tailored, close-fitting trousers that with the calf-length, high-heeled boots highlighted the perfection of her legs flowing up to the accentuated roundness of her behind. On top, Emma wore a sleeveless, black silk blouse, figure-hugging tucked into the pants and buttoned-up right to her throat. Unlike in the remembered past, her now close-cropped hair accentuated her fine-boned, lively-intelligent face.

Emma knelt before me next to the table. Blushing slightly, it seemed, she smiled, "You are fine, dressed as you are, Tom. If I look too formal, I can easily change."

Her hands reached up to slowly undo the first button of her blouse. She grinned, "Say when Tom."

Then, with her eyes fixed on mine, she unbuttoned -- hesitating between each -- the next four. On the fifth, just below the cleavage between her boobs, she stopped with a laugh. "Should I now?... You are silent... I better stay marginally dressed.... At least for our meal. "

As she bent sideways to reach for the glasses and the champagne, her blouse gaped open, drawing my eyes onto her almost fully revealed, braless breasts.

Still on her knees, she shifted between my legs and handed me my glass. When she raised hers, her blouse slipped off one shoulder and bared a rampant tit. Blushing briefly down on her hardened nipple she whispered, "To you, Tom... and to us being together tonight!"

After emptying our glasses in one hurried gulp, Emma kissed me like I had never been kissed before. As our lips met Emma's tongue curled into my mouth to entwine with mine in a sinuous dance. When finally, with our lips still touching I drew in her hot, excited breath, I suddenly knew that we would not stop at just kissing.

Emma stood up. Looking down at me she smiled as she slowly, almost reluctantly, pulled her blouse over the breast I had been too shy to touch. Then she sat down next to me, pulled the table closer and refilled the glasses.

Smiling at me she raised her glass. "Let us enjoy our feast. After all, I invited you for dinner, Tom. I could not send you home hungry."

As Emma lent forward to fill our plates, her thigh pressing against mine and her tits jiggling in her gapping blouse, I lusted much more for her than the offerings on the table.

Emma slipped off her boots and drew up her legs as she leaned back on a pillow. Reaching for her plate, she started to eat, picking out the choice bits with obvious relish, now and then licking her fingers.

I quickly joined her in our - I imagined -- Roman-orgy-like feasting. We ate and drank and laughed and bantered.

My eyes were feasting too. Leaning and twisting on her pillow, Emma's boobs constantly threatened to tumble out of their loose confine. Now and then I glimpsed them in their glorious perfection.

She liked my gawking at her show of tits, and I liked how her toes curled when she -- not hiding it -- looked long at the bulge in my pants.

In our bantering I mentioned that I had a girlfriend, the daughter of my Forester boss. Emma immediately began questioning me about Erika and - interspersed with a hand stroking up my thigh -- about our love life.

She asked how young, Erika, was. Was she pretty and sexy and was I -- Emma brushed over the erection tenting my pants -- as crazy about her as I was now... Emma stopped and grinned. Stretching out her boobs she asked if Erika's tits were as sexy as hers? Did she also like to show them, and have them touched and kissed? How often and how did we make love, kiss, touch each other and, did we fuck?

I did not want to break the tingling mood created by Emma's more and more suggestive questioning. So, I hummed and hawed, told little lies and avoided admitting the unsexy truth about my budding affair with a cunningly reluctant, virginal Erika.

Eventually, as Emma bent in for another naughty quick kiss, I grabbed her and pinned her back on the sofa. I must have stuttered:

"Erika is not like you!... No woman I know and have ever known is like you. Even years ago, when you invited us... I could not stop watching you... in this room...showing off in your sexy oriental dress."

"Did you like that dress?... Why, Tom?"

"You were like a fairy-tale princess in it... mysterious... beautiful! I would have been too shy to call it 'sexy' then.... But God, you were the sexiest woman I had ever seen."

Emma smiled as she remembered:

"You have not seen me in this dress in how it is meant to be worn.... At this Christmas party I wore it over the largest bra and panties I could buy. I wore it not for your sake but to annoy Helmut.... That you could not stop looking at me, I found sweet... and exciting! You turned me on even then."

Giving me a wink, she asked:

"Would you like me to slip into such a dress, this time only for you? I still have a few of them in my wardrobe. It be fun! I have not worn them for ages.''

Not waiting for an answer, Emma gave me a quick kiss as she wrestled free. Once up, she pushed the coffee table aside. Before hurrying out of the room, she turned on the unlit lamps standing in the corners of the room.