Emma woke at noon the next day and lay there on her back, hands behind her head for several minutes, probing around inside her brain. The previous evening had been a very disturbing one for her, but thinking things through, she realized that something had shifted inside her. It felt as if a logjam had been broken and her personality was now flowing in different ways.
After a good long run and a bit of, well, breakfast, even though it was nearly 2:00 when she ate it, Emma sat at the kitchen table, mapping out the rest of her day. Peter would be phoning at 5:00, and that was the only thing she
had
to do. The rest was up to her.
Emma took a shower and afterwards spent 5 minutes in front of the mirror again, the first time she'd dared to do that in a month. She
was
pretty. She was
sexy
, dammit! Something inside her wanted to explore her sexuality, and was that wrong? She could admit that openly now. Why was her husband so uninterested?
Maybe Derek could give her some insight into that. Problem was she was too embarrassed to face him at the moment -- even if he hadn't been at work.
Throwing on a light robe, she went down to the computer. Once booted up, she entered the keyword "cunnilingus" in her browser. The number of hits was incredible. True, most of it was cheesy porn sites, but there was also a lot of useful information. She was envious of those women who had husbands who would do that to them!
Reading the descriptions and looking at a few photos got Emma incredibly aroused.
"I'm going to make myself cum," she said out loud.
It was very liberating.
Searching further, she found a women's website that had a sample video clip. Emma nearly forgot to breath as she watched it the first time.
A woman with short blonde hair like hers was lying back on a sofa, one leg over the back and the other hanging down. Between her legs, a man crouched. He had his hands under the woman's bottom, cupping each cheek strongly as he lifted her slightly. His tongue was licking lustily in her folds and she was writhing and moaning at every touch. It didn't appear to be faked. Just as she was going to climax, the clip ended. Typical. But it was so incredibly hot.
Emma opened her robe and restarted the clip. Her hands drifted down to her open legs and she found herself already rather wet. Before she really got into it, she had an idea.
Running upstairs, she grabbed a bottle of baby oil and quickly went back down. Slipping off her robe, she again sat at the computer.
The clip was on "loop" and as she watched it play again and again, she poured some baby oil on her hands. It felt wonderful as they glided over her glowing skin. Gradually, they drifted up to her breasts and she cupped them experimentally. They made a nice handful, but really weren't that large. She'd always felt she was lucky to not have big ones that flopped around when she ran. That looked just awful, in her opinion.
These breasts were very nice. And her nipples...they'd get
so
sensitive as she heated up. She pulled and twisted, making them stiffen and swell. How nice it would be to have Peter here to suck on them. She always liked that, but he never did it long enough. How wonderful it would be to have Peter pleasure her for hours. Like Derek did with the women he made love to.
Yesterday morning, Emma would have mentally slapped her face for thinking those kinds of thoughts. But today, she was, well, different, and she let her thoughts flow where they would.
The clip again went black and restarted automatically. Emma's oily hands slid lower, caressing her stomach, the tops of her thighs, the inside of her thighs, but she stayed away from her ultimate goal, teasing herself as Derek had teased the woman two nights ago. She wanted to make herself yearn for release.
Now that she wasn't feeling guilty and ashamed, Emma reveled in the pleasure that was flowing through her. She imagined her hands were Peter's caressing her so intimately, worshipping her body. How could she get him to do this? Would he ever want to touch his wife like this? Was he, too, shy like she was? Maybe he wanted to but didn't know how to ask. Maybe Peter was ashamed like she used to be. How could she make him change?
The woman on the screen was writhing again, her head tossing back and forth. Just before the clip ended, she started to reach for her lover's head, and Emma knew why. She wanted to hold his tongue against her, not let it escape until he had driven her over the edge.
She flicked her swollen clitoris with one finger and gasped. She was oh so ready. Watching the clip from the beginning, she rubbed herself, avoiding her little hot button as the man's tongue ravaged the woman's most secret places. As the woman writhed and moaned, Emma's fingers crept closer and closer to her target and just as the woman reached out for her lover, Emma pressed down and rubbed hard.
Her orgasm overwhelmed her as her body thrashed and spasmed for what seemed like a long time, gasping and groaning. She felt lightheaded and pleasantly disoriented as she came down from her sexual high, but also incredibly good. Her sense of well-being and happiness was terrific -- now that she had gotten past the shame she used to feel.
Emma spent the rest of the afternoon, weeding her gardens as she hummed to herself contentedly.
Derek was right.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
That evening, Emma kept to herself while everything that had happened swirled in a disorganized mass in her brain. It all had to be analyzed and sorted before she'd make descisions of any kind. There was still so much to learn.
When Derek came home, he waved but kept his distance. The next move was clearly hers to make.
Peter had sounded rather distracted when he called that evening. Things at the conferences were pretty stressful. His calls often seemed to amount to no more than checking up on his wife. There was seldom any small talk, certainly no loving little endearments. He did say how much he missed her, though, and that gave her a warm feeling. At the end, she decided to tell him how much she loved him, but she wasn't sure he heard any of it, because the phone clicked barely before she'd barely got started.
She did masturbate again that night. Things were quiet in Derek's bedroom, but Emma felt it was better to use the den which didn't share the common wall. Once again she watched the video of the couple again, and found a few others that were almost as satisfactory.
This time she didn't use the baby oil but went at her private parts with both hands, using two fingers inside herself to find that special spot. Outside, she kept her clit (she found she preferred the shorter term) bubbling just below the threshold while she waited for her G spot (more research) to swell and harden.
Inside her it felt like she needed to pee and cum at the same time. Teasing herself, she drew it out, and when she couldn't stand it any more, she lifted her legs over the arms of the computer chair and drove herself to an incredible orgasm. Knowing she might squirt again, she was ready with towels on the floor and underneath her bottom. They were all soaked and Emma was left, shaking and unable to think clearly, but very, very happy.
On Friday night, Derek came home to find a note on his door: Join me for dinner? --Emma. He had plans for the evening, but felt this was more important, so he ducked in the house to tell the disappointed woman that he was stuck at work. In case she came by to check, he pulled his car into the garage.
His neighbor came to the door with a pretty apron on over her usual shorts and top. Her feet were bare and there was a fetching smudge of flour on her cheek. Interestingly, she also had on some eye make-up.
"Hi, Emma. Yes, dinner would be great. Allow me," he added as he reached out to wipe the flour away. "Would red or white be more suitable?"
"Pardon me?"
"Wine, Emma, red or white wine."
"White then. I'm making chicken."
"I'd like to take a shower. Do I have time?"
"Certainly. But be back soon. It's almost ready."
Dinner conversation was kept in safe channels, running, other sports, work, but Emma was clearly nervous. Actually, she could barely choke down a bite, but she was determined to appear normal.
Dessert was a homemade peach pie and it was delicious. They'd eaten in the house because Emma didn't want to attract any notice from the neighbors. In a complex like this, everyone watched everyone else and the gossip lines were always open. She'd also closed the curtains.
