return to the Trane Station Larry’s seventh session with Emily had been delayed by a week due to the funeral Larry had conducted. He had listened for disappointment in her voice when he called to tell her of the need to cancel their appointment, and he did think there was a bit of a droop in her voice, but as he reflected on it later, he wasn’t so sure. He had been thinking a lot about this appointment, their seventh meeting together, all in a series of sessions that began as marital counseling. He had even thought about their meeting during the funeral which had regrettably taken the place of their private session. It had been during one of the prayers prayed by the dead man’s son. The son had prayed and Larry’s mind had wandered to Emily and her soft white skin. Fortunately, the prayer was a long one, so Larry’s daydream took him all the way to having Emily naked and kneeling in front of him. He had even gotten as far as Emily taking his cock into her mouth before the prayer ended and it was time for him to deliver his funeral sermon. But all that was past him, the waiting and wondering, because the day had finally arrived and Emily was sitting across from him again in his church office. Emily had arrived on time. She seemed to be a punctual person. And she had worn a dress this time. Something of a first. Previously she had always been done up in conservative attire, suburban preppy, perhaps. The dress was flattering. It moved with her almost teasingly, or so Larry thought. “Where to begin?” Larry began. “I’ve thought a lot about today,” Emily told him evenly. “And I have to tell you that I was very disappointed we didn’t get to meet last week, but I do understand. Poor Mr. Bishop. But honestly, Lawrence, I don’t think I was as ready last week as I feel I am now. I’m not so sure I was ready last week to tell you the things I needed to tell you, the things I wanted to tell you. Does that make sense? The need for time?” Larry just nodded agreement although he wasn’t entirely sure he understood. Emily looked away and took a deep breath. “Fantasies, you said. Why not explore our sexual fantasies together, you said.” She turned to look at him again before she added, “Did you really mean that, Lawrence? That we could share or fantasies?” “Yes,” he told her reassuringly while hoping desperately to himself that she would continue. “Is that all, Lawrence? That we would tell each other our fantasies? That’s all?” A silent alarm went off for Larry. Was she worried? Scared he might do something out of line? Was she beginning to sense manipulation? The silent alarm had taken time to go off in Larry’s mind. The time amounted to an empty pause between them. Emily didn’t wait for him to respond. “Could we do more than that?” she asked. “Could we do more than that, if we both want to? Would you want to? Would you want to act out our fantasies, Lawrence? Even just a little bit? Would you with me? Would you feel safe doing that with me? Would you trust me? Would you want me, Lawrence? Would you want me to be in any of your fantasies?” Larry was almost too stunned to respond. Manna came to his mind immediately. Manna from heaven, the topic of his sermon before Thanksgiving. This woman was pure manna. Or could it in this case be womanna? Regardless, somehow he had chanced onto a gold mine, but still he had to play it right to make it work just right. “It is a delicate thing, Emily. I have risks to consider. As much as I want you, I admit that I do, and as much as I would like for us to do these things together, going as far as really doing things, acting out fantasies, whatever… If ever we were caught…” “But you can trust me, I swear it,” she interrupted. “I believe you.” This may work, he thought to himself. “I am vulnerable, too,” she told him. “I would have a lot to lose, too. But what if I somehow made myself more vulnerable than you, would that help you? I understand about the church and your reputation, but what if I somehow gave you proof that I suggested this? Proof that you could use, if you ever needed to. Proof that it was me who asked you to do this with me?” “How would you do that?” he asked, sincerely curious. Emily reached into her handbag were it lay beside her chair. From it she pulled an envelope containing something of some thickness, paper perhaps, something stacked inside. She handed the envelope to Larry and waited. “Open it now, if you like,” she said. “Inside you’ll find some pictures I took of myself. On each of them, I have written something for you, addressed to you. Some of them you might think crude, I don’t know what kind of sexual language you are comfortable with, but to my mind, having pictures of me, nude ones, on which I’ve begged you to do things to me, to fuck me, if I may say it that way, well, at least, I thought that might give you proof, if you ever needed it, that whatever we do was my doing. That I had seduced you, perhaps. That I convinced you to do things you knew you shouldn’t do. You are a man, after all. Can any man resist repeated attempts by a reasonably attractive woman to get him to do things he shouldn’t do? Can any man hold up over time? Perhaps some men can and do. I’m hoping that you won’t be like that.” Emily paused to catch her breath as she watched Larry thumbing through the pictures. Was he shocked? Was he offended? Regardless, it was too late to go back now, she told herself. She had to move ahead and at least try. She had promised herself that much. “Lawrence,” she began in a softer voice, “I want you. And I want you to want me. And I want you to take me, to please yourself with me. I want to be whatever you want me to be. Your lover, your mistress, your whore, your slut, whatever you want, Lawrence, if only for this one hour each week, if that’s all there can be, I want to be what pleases you. I will do anything, say anything, be anything. I want to give myself to you that way in whatever time we find for each other.” Larry had stopped looking at the pictures and was watching her speak. He was speechless for maybe the first time in his life. “Will you accept, Lawrence? Will you do this with me? Will you accept me?” Larry gathered himself enough to realize what he could do next, and he did it. “Show me,” he told her sternly, “Raise your dress and show me. Show me your pussy. Show me how a good slut shows herself.” The color flushed from Emily’s face, but she didn’t hesitate as her hands moved to her thighs and began to pull her dress up. Her legs spread as she raised the dress all the way her waist. She was wearing thigh high stocks and a glistening black pair of panties with a huge wet spot in the crotch. Her fingers deftly pulled the panties aside and exposed her shining, thickened lips. Her fingers opened her sex as Larry watched without regard for staring. “Like this?” she asked. “Is this what you want to see? My pussy? My wet pussy, Lawrence?” Larry didn’t take his eyes off her fingers or her pussy as he began to unbuckle and unzip his slacks. He maneuvered his underwear down just enough to free his cock and take it in his hand. He began to stroke himself as he told her, “Rub it. Rub it for me. Make it wetter. Make it shine. Make it come, if you can. Let me see you.” Her fingers began to run from side to side, occasionally stopping only to move in circles over her clit. “I can be this for you, Lawrence. Will you like me this way? Like this? A slut? Your slut? Will you let me be your slut? Your secret slut?” “Do it. Make yourself come. Let me watch you. If you’re good, I’ll come for you, too. Would you like that? Would you like my come on you? Or do you want it inside you? Maybe in your mouth?” Emily moaned and closed her eyes as she rubbed herself harder and faster. “You are a slut,” he told her, “I can see that now, and I love it, yes, I love it very much. I want you, too, Emily. I want you in so many ways. To have, to keep, to fuck, to use as I want.” Emily shuddered and came as he watched. Her hips quivered under her hand and her legs drew together unconsciously. “Keep your legs open!” he almost shouted. She jerked to attention and spread her legs again, her eyes open then, looking at him almost as if for the first time, seeing him stroke his reddened cock, jerking himself off with abandon. He eyed her only for a second before telling her, “Crawl to me, Bitch.” Emily almost melted off her chair and began to crawl across the floor to him. Larry only stared at her, stroking his enraged cock fast and hard. When she reached him she let her hands move up his legs to his open thighs. She drew closer, unsure of how he wanted her, hoping, but unsure, hoping he would let her have him in her mouth. “You would do it, wouldn’t you? Take my cock in your mouth? Suck me? Suck me until I come? Drink my come? Lick me clean? You’d do that, wouldn’t you?” “Yes,” she murmured, “Yes, please let me. Please let me do it. I think I know how, but I want to learn to be good for you. Please?” “No,” he sneered. Her eyes came up to his, questioning, becoming unsure of herself for just a moment. “I want to have you first,” he told her in a lower voice, “I want to fuck you. Get up and lean over my desk.” She hurried to do as he told her, hoping to please him, hoping to draw some word of praise in pleasing him. He watched her position herself over his desk, her skirt drawn up around her waist, her broad white ass turned to him for him to take. Then he rose from his chair, holding his cock, the tip dripping pre-cum onto the church’s carpet, and walked the few steps to where she waited. He spread her ass with his hands and regarded her only for a second before he plunged inside her in one stroke. Emily grunted beneath him as he entered her and pushed his weight against her ass. “Now say it,” he hissed, “Say it. Say it or I won’t do it. I won’t give you what you want. Say it or I won’t fuck you, my sweet sexy slut.” “Fuck me, Lawrence,” she whimpered. “Louder.” “Fuck me, please, fuck me. Fuck me.” Larry caught sight of the two of them in the mirror on the wall across the room. He was deep inside her, holding still against her, his hips pressed against her ass hard enough to deform the shape of her there where they met. His slacks were around his ankles; his shirt and tie askew. Emily lay on his desk with her head turned to see them as he did. Their eyes met and he smiled to her as he pulled back and plunged into her again. “This is what you want?” he asked as he began to fuck her in earnest. “Yes,” she answered softly. “I can’t hear you. Louder, Slut.” “Yes, please,” she told him between grunts as he began pounding into her. There were no words between them for a few moments as they both watched themselves in the mirror. Emily continued to grunt with each of Larry’s thrusts. His hands held her ass as he fucked her. She could see hints of his wet shaft between them as he stroked in and out of her. “You’re making me come,” he hissed through gritted teeth. Then in one flash of rationality, remembering that he knew nothing about her and any birth control, he pulled himself from her and let his cock rest in the crack of her ass as he pushed and rubbed himself there until he came in white hot spurts over her ass, hips, and dress. The air seemed to leave him and he stepped back from her, regarding her as he had left her, leaning over his desk, ass cheeks red from his grip, her back painted in spots by his seed, her pussy lips swollen and thick from his use. She was his, and it made him smile to know it. “Come clean me of what you have done to me,” was the first thing he said to her. Emily scurried from the desk as best she could and knelt in front of him. She began to lick him as she had read about in books, never having done it before but wanting to for so very long. She was no good at it, she knew, but she hoped to become better with time. Emily desperately wanted to become better with time. Larry let his fingers work into her hair as she licked him. She will get better at it, he told himself, better with practice. The clock on the mantle chimed five o’clock. Their seventh session was technically over, but neither of them paid any attention. In each of their minds, things had only just begun. copyright 2002 |