Arthur Alexander - Emily_s Lips

And then she heard footsteps in the hallway. He returned accompanied by his wife.

The latter carried a nightgown and robe, a towel and a hairbrush, and she wore a concerned expression. She was dressed formally in a full length dress of embroidered white material which was very decollete. Her skin seemed smooth and flawless in the indirect light and the swells of wide breasts under the cloth more sculptural than sexual. Immediately she bustled forward, all of a dither with sympathy. "Oh, you poor thing! You're so wet. Adrian told me we had a foundling, but I had no idea! And you walked all the way from the road? And through such a storm. Adrian, you go down to the kitchen and make a hot cup of something. Tea?"

"Tea would be lovely." Emily was amused by the woman's kindly effusion.

"Tea, then. And we'll just change our clothes before the fire here, won't we?" The woman laid the nightgown out before the flames to warm it. "Go on now, Adrian, or this poor girl will catch her death!"

But he was watching Emily's body again as she thankfully brushed her tangled hair.

Lifting her arms like that did wonderful things with her breasts.

"Adrian! Off with you." Emily caught a wink from him as he turned. "You mustn't blame Adrian for staring, my dear. You're so attractive and so… revealing."

"Yes," replied Emily in confusion. "Yes, I suppose I am."

"Well, let's not think of that now. You just slip out of those wet things, and I'll be back in a moment."

Looking around to make entirely certain she was alone, rather cautiously Emily began to undress. She unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it stickily away from her heavy breasts. Her skin felt cold, despite the fire, and she saw in the mirror that her nipples were as tightly wrinkled as she thought they were. She put her fingers to them, to coax them into softening a little, but they were determined to stay erect. To unzip her pleated skirt, she crossed her left arm across her chest, and the action caused her breasts to sway outward like lovely, pale mountains. She slipped the skirt down over her hips. En doing so, the wet material drew her pale blue panties down as well, exposing the cleavage of her buttocks to the firelight. A few strands of her thick pubic bush curled up in front. She pulled her panties back up, protecting her soft cunt lips from view, and allowed the skirt to fall to the floor around her feet.

She sat on the edge of the couch for a moment to gather her clothes together.

Though she was trying to be quick about changing, she paused for a moment with her thighs parted as a pulse of heat beat upon her dark cunt. She had always loved the heat of a fire on her body. Her legs sagged open more loosely. Nervous sweat had made her damp in the crotch, and she caught an errant whiff of her own musky scent. Her cunt itched. She shoved her right hand inside the cup of her panties and scratched herself idly while her memory conjured up luscious images of the fantasies she habitually used while playing with her body in front of a fire somewhere. She had masturbated almost constantly as a teenager-and she did still, though less frequently now that she was married. The knowledge of how easy it would be to arouse herself in this still house caused a hollow sensation to grow in the pit of her belly. She withdrew her hand and lifted it to her nostrils to catch the thick, odorous memory of many long caresses. How fine to manipulate her breasts, and her cunt, and her asshole as the wind shrieked powerlessly outside! She pressed her palm heavily against the soft, pouting pudendum which hung plumply in its pantie covering. She knew it so well! She loved the pleasure it could give her. She loved the long, uncomplicated masturbation which she knew would make that cunt just yearn and yearn for more of the same. A tail of a thought passed across her mind then, something about Arthur, but the immediate heaviness of her cunt in her hand was too important for her to follow that thought to its conclusion. She could feel the familiar moisture beginning to s eep in her slit. Her thick hair made such a nic e, crinkling feeling as she smoothed her hand down and down!

But then she heard footsteps in the house, and quickly she slipped the nightgown over her head. It was her hostess striding back into the room. But just as the woman opened her mouth to speak, Emily heard the sound of gentle music begin somewhere in the house. It was a sound which swelled softly and tantaliz ingly.

"What's that music?" she asked.

"Some friends of ours are practicing," her hostess replied in a vague sort of way. The woman began spreading her clothing before the fire. "This is a lovely blouse."

"Thank you. It's from Bali. I saw the cars outside. You must have other guests."

"Just some old friends staying for a few days." Again she changed the subject.

"Were you in Bali yourself?"

"Oh no! I could hardly afford that. I wish I had been though. I'm told it's lovely."

"It is."

"You've been there?"

"Oh yes."

"Someday, perhaps… "

"Well, it isn't expensive once you get there."

"But getting there is the thing. But, look here! I must be keeping you from your real guests. I'm so sorry."

"That's all right. I can join them later. They're just making a little music now."

Emily thought it a little odd that they should be playing at this hour, but as the other woman seemed to prefer not to speak of it, she changed the subject herself.

"Incidentally, I'm Emily Alexander."

"Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Emily." They sat on the couch, and Emily drew her legs warmly up underneath herself. "I'm Laura Black, and that was my husband Adrian you met before.

"This is a very nice house you have."

"We like it. It's out of the way, don't you know, and that's what we want when we're in this country."

"You travel a lot then, do you?"

"Yes. We have business interests in Africa and the Far East. We're out of the States about five months every year, I would guess." Emily, who had never been able to travel, was impressed. "It sounds a very glamorous life."

Mrs. Black gave a pretty laugh. "I suppose it is. I don't mean to sound worldly-wise, but one grows accustomed to it."

"Yes, I suppose one does."

Mr. Black entered the room then with a tea tray laden with a shiny silver service and a collection of little sandwiches. The cultivated, international aura of the house swept over Emily as she told Mrs. Black whether she took one lump or two. Mr. Black sat down again in his original armchair. Again, the hypnotic quality of the music impinged upon Emily. Everything was so very still in the house except for that pulsing beat. There was a pause in the small conversation as they all took their first sips, and Emily paid her rescuers another compliment upon their musical friends.

"Yes, they do a very professional job," replied Adrian, but then he too shifted the focus by asking her something about the condition of the roads. And that was a subject upon which she could wax lyrical. Encouraged by their exclamations, she found herself talking quite freely, and it soon must have been clear to them what her situation was. In fact, she alluded to Arthur and to her flight from him frequently. It was an enormous relief even to mention the fact to someone, to make it less terrifying, conversable.

Neither of her listeners said a word until she had finished her monologue. She sat quietly, in confusion, for a moment, and then burst out with apologies.

"Hush, hush," purred Mrs. Black, patting her knee.

"Then you really haven't any particular destination?" asked Mr. Black.

"No. I, well, I don't know-"

"Then, Emily, I think it best for you to stay here for a few days. Please accept the offer of our hospitality. I'm sure my wife would be pleased."

"Oh, Mr. Black, I-"