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Subject: Recovering Emma This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone real is sheer coincidendce. It contains mature content between adult women and should not be read by anyone under the age of 18 or anyone with the maturity level of someone under the age of 18. Other than that, enjoy! ~Zoe Nox Michael and his parents had been friends of our family ever since I was in grade school, and his parents would often baby-sit me when my mother went out of town. I never saw much of Michael at these times, he being about ten years older than me and often out of the house with his high school buddies. After I was old enough to look after myself at home and Michael went to college, he met a lovely girl named Emma and they got married right after graduation. Unfortunately, I did not attend their wedding, as Mother and I had moved to the East coast, and so I only met her once on a visit before they moved to the other side of the country. Eventually, missing our hometown, we moved back so I could attend high school with all my old friends. Michael’s parents moved out to California a year later, and so reasons for Michael, Emma, and their two children to visit Smithton, where we lived, vanished. It wasn’t until I myself had been in college for three years did Michael finally raise enough money to leave his firm in western Colorado and start his own practice back in Smithton. All of our friends were excited by news of their homecoming and preparations were made for a big “Welcome Back!” party at the Goldberg’s giant house in the most posh suburb of Smithton, Ash Glen. I went mainly because it was expected of me, and felt only slight curiosity about seeing Michael’s two children who I had never met than any real excitement about his and Emma’s return. It being early October, I dressed in a semi-casual, just below the knee black satiny skirt and a deep crimson vee-necked blouse of similar material that brought out the red tones of my chestnut hair, with only a light black leather jacket that I carried over my shoulder rather than wore. Together with a little silver jewelry (I never wore gold) and light, accenting make-up, I left for the Goldberg’s feeling that I would probably have to stay at least two dull, small talk filled hours before I could politely escape to my favorite club or cafe. When I got there, I went through the same old motions of having to greet everyone I knew and suffer being introduced to their companions for about half an hour before I could get to the mini bar and grab a martini. I still hadn’t caught sight of Michael or Emma or the kids, but since it was a huge place, I figured they were here and I’d just run into them eventually. All the younger kids usually wound up in the basement where the pool table, big screen T.V., and other entertainment equipment made up the rec room, so I meandered other in the direction of the door leading to the stairs, occasionally stopping to chat for a few minutes whenever I heard my name emit from a knot of people. Just as I neared the door, I heard Mrs. Goldberg exclaim, “Well, there she is now! Zoe, Michael was just asking about you! Come see him and Emma!” I turned to see the Goldbergs, one of my high school ex-boyfriends, and two people I vaguely knew by sight in a group around Michael and who I recognized to be Emma. If I’d allowed it, my mouth would have fallen open in shock. The misty memory of Emma had been a vaguely cute, dark haired girl of twenty-something, still with a trace of acne and shyness radiating from her in waves. The woman before me bore little resemblance to that girl. Emma now bore herself with an enviable confidence and had matured into a dazzlingly beautiful woman of thirty. Her sable hair pooled around her shoulders, framing an alabaster face with dark eyes that matched her hair above full, kissable lips of deep rose. Her body underneath the strapless emerald-green cocktail dress was curvaceous, feminine, with full half melon breasts that still looked firm even after two children. Oh, to be Michael tonight after the party, in bed with her… “Zoe! It’s been, what, five, six years? Look how you’ve matured!” Michael’s comment wrenched my mind back to the real world, and my eyes back into their sockets. I hoped no one had noticed the way I had ogled Emma. “Well, I can’t believe you have kids! Who, by the way I still have yet to meet. Where are they? In the basement? What are their names again?” It was Emma who replied, “Thomas and Marie. Yes, they ran off to play with the other children not ten minutes after we walked in the door. Don’t worry; you’ll see them soon enough. Tell me how you’re doing in school. What’s your major again?” Her voice was so warm, full of laughter. Listening to her talk was like drinking a marguerita on the beach in full summer. I’d say anything to make her keep talking, no matter how inane. “I finally settled on evolutionary psychology, which is a bit like anthropology, only…” One by one, members of our group wandered off to join others, Michael being the last to leave, pulled away by some of his old frat buddies. I wasn’t sorry to see him leave. At last, I was alone with Emma in a corner all to ourselves. Every time she laughed I got a little thrill, as if a feather had whisked up my spine. After nearly an hour, we seemed like old friends, telling the most ludicrous stories and laughing at the other like we’d been doing it for years. Every thing she did made me want her more. The way she threw back her head to laugh with her whole soul, the mischievous glint she’d get in her eye whenever we’d start another yarn, the conspiratorial wink she’d give me when she’d get to the juicy parts, the way she’d clutch my arm for a moment when I made her laugh, as though she might carry herself away with the force of her glee. I knew that this was a woman of passion and vivacity. Unfortunately, bursa evi olan escort right as the stories started to turn towards our wildest past flings (I wanted to tell her about some of the women I’d been with and gage her reaction), her children trudged their way wearily to our corner and whined about how sleepy they were. Emma gave a little sigh and gave me a crooked, apologetic grin. “I’m sorry, Zoe, but…” “That’s okay.” I forced myself to laugh merrily. “I understand completely! Besides, how could I possibly mind when the interruption is as cute as these two are? Hi, guys!” I made my smile so winsome it ached. Thomas, at five, felt bold enough to smile at me shyly. Marie, barely three, simply looked up at me through her thick dark lashes and tugged on her dress hem. Marie looked like a baby Emma, but with Michael’s wispy curl to her dark hair. Thomas looked like a mix of them both and more: Emma’s straighter hair, Michael’s lighter eyes, and his grandmother’s elfin bone structure. They were cute. I didn’t really resent their intrusion; I simply wanted more time with Emma. “They’re simply adorable, Emma. Look at those doe eyes. How can anyone resist that?” “I glad you think so, Zoe,” Michael had just wandered back over, his paternal instincts flaring up with the reappearance of his kids, “How would like to baby-sit sometime? The kids hate these parties, and from what I hear, you only go to the ‘Absolutely Mandatory Attendance by All on Pain of Death” social events yourself. The Johnsons told me you used to watch their brood often, and we don’t really know anyone reliable yet.” “Michael, I shouldn’t think Zoe would have the time…” Emma began. “No, that’s alright, as long as you give me some notice so I can know when to schedule study time.” Like I said, anything for Emma. “There, you see? She’s up for it,” Michael beamed, brushing aside any further objections from his wife. “Anyway, we’d better go, the kids need to get in bed, you know. Whose turn is it to tell stories tonight?” “Yours. Look, I’m still kind of itching to be out, okay? Can I get a ride from Zoe? You’re great with the kids, they always like it when you put them to bed, anyway,” Emma said, searching Michael’s eyes as though pleading with him. “Fine, but not too late, okay? I have to go in tomorrow, and I don’t want to be bothered at three in the morning or something.” Emma didn’t even bother asking why her husband needed to go to the office on a Saturday. Part of me was a little taken aback and confused, but a very tiny part of me in the back of my mind did a little jig of ruthless glee… * * * Half an hour later, I found myself driving down Mason Parkway with the gorgeous Emma enthroned in my passenger seat. She had said she didn’t feel like going anywhere in particular, only that she wasn’t in the mood to be surrounded by a vapid horde of people she barely knew that she was expected to adore any longer. I suggested that we just drive for a while, and perhaps we’d make up our minds in the car. She merely smiled at that and hopped into the black leather passenger seat without a murmur of dissent. I longed to pull over and fling myself at her but kept myself under tight rein. An idea struck me. She was “itching to be out”? Sounded to me like she needed to blow off a little excess energy. I only hoped I was right. “Say, Emma, do you want to go out to a club, get in some dancing? You know, have a girls’ night out, sort of thing?” Her eyes sparkled. “Sure. Where at? Got a regular haunt?” “As a matter of fact, I do…” The bouncer pushed open the non-descript black door for us, and I let Emma go ahead of me so I could trade winks with Anthony, who knew me on sight and always pulled me ahead of the line. His grin broadened upon glancing at Emma and he gave me a knowing nod. Once inside, I cast about for Emma, who’d stopped just inside the door so she could adjust to the dim lights. The Mickey Femme only had soft lights in the bar for the bartenders and the multi-hued light show on the dance floor, with tiny red lamps on the tables that didn’t really illuminate much, just made a beacon in the darkness to navigate by. In emergencies, the house lights did come up, bright enough to see the exits but not enough to blind, but otherwise the club was pretty damn dark. Another, odder sort of paltry illumination came from the glow-in-the-dark bracelets everyone wore. When you came in the door you were given a color based on preference, to avoid any misunderstandings: that is to say, pink if you preferred female attention, blue for male, and purple for both. I hadn’t given Anthony time to ask Emma, thereby giving everything away too soon; I’d simply grabbed a purple for myself and a neutral green for her. I didn’t yet know if she felt anything for her own sex, and anyway she was married, so she probably wouldn’t want to be hit on a lot by strangers. Her bracelet just let every one else know that she probably didn’t welcome any “attention” and was only here to dance. Besides, I didn’t want to share her with anyone else. I’m selfish that way. “Do you want to get a table or a drink first?” I pointed to the bar. “A drink, then straight to the dance floor. We can get a table later, if you want. You know, to rest after dancing,” she replied. Was it just my imagination, or was that a coy gleam in her eye? Unlike Emma (or so I thought), I knew why the tables had next to nothing in terms of lighting. The tables were surrounded on three sides by plush booth seats in dark red velvet. The booths made a perimeter around the dance floor, breaking only for the doors and the bar. The low lights and high backed seats around the tables gave them a grotto-like atmosphere, which helped give a sense of privacy that was exploited by couples and groups alike. Since the ‘Femme was a place local altıparmak escort gays and their supportive friends went to meet other like-minded people, it only followed that once having met someone, they’d want to get to know them a little better… We slid up to the bar and I asked Melanie, a foxy little redhead, for my usual (double shot of vodka with a cherry in it) and waited for Emma to order something mild and effeminate, like a Pink Lady or a daiquiri. To my surprise, she asked for a double bourbon. She merely raised an eyebrow at my drink and proceeded to knock back hers in two gulps. My eyes watered just watching her. I hurriedly began gulping mine down, saving the cherry for last, sucking all the juice ( now blended with vodka) and pulling out the stem. Just as I was about to drop the stem back in the glass and hand it back to Melanie, Emma stopped my and took the stem with a mischievous grin. “Wanna see me do a trick? Michael’s never seen me do it.” I knew what she was about to do, but for some reason the fact that Emma was the one doing it and that she hadn’t done it for Michael turned me on even more. “Sure.” It was more of the way she put the stem in her mouth, slowly, teasingly, and then half closed her eyes while she tied it in a knot with tongue that got me. Then she lazily stuck her tongue through her lips with the knotted stem on the end and reached up with her index finger and pulled it off. She held out her finger with the stem on it for my inspection, and I gave her a slow, drawling smile to show her my appreciation. “Why hasn’t Michael seen this?” I asked. “Because I knew he wouldn’t approve. He’s so proper and old-fashioned sometimes,” she replied, somewhat bitterly. Aha, I thought to myself, not exactly happy with him, are we? “And let me guess, he expects his wife to be properly demure?” I queried. “Yeah, well, he’s completely different with the kids…” she trailed off. I knew then what kind of relationship Emma probably had with her husband. He expected her to put off her own career in photography and stay at home with the kids so he could work at his own. He would have final say in all matters, and when at home probably spent nearly all his time either with the kids or working. And that made me really angry. Emma deserved more than that. Sure, it was good that she got to spend time with her kids and that Michael was a good father to them, but he neglected her, squashing her creativity and passion and individuality. I wondered how many times a week, or even a month, he said “I love you” in a way that told her he felt what he was saying and not just parroting it back at her. Did he ever come home early and surprise her with a kiss and a promise that tonight the kids could go to the neighbors’? “Let’s get out there!” exclaimed Emma suddenly. She grabbed my hand and pulled me after her, onto the middle of the floor. Amber’s “Sexual” had started up and all over the floor people began getting closer to their partners and picking up the pace of their movements. Emma flung her hands over her head and began working her body not even a foot from mine. I kept edging a little closer with each thrust of my hips, until by the end of the song we were barely three inches apart. The next song was Tatu’s “All the Things She Said”. I wondered while we kept dancing if she knew that the girls were lesbians and what she thought about it. “Hey, isn’t this that lesbian song?” she asked suddenly, as if reading my mind. “Yeah, like it?” yelling back over the music. “I love the video! They make lesbians look so innocent and romantic!” “Well, they’re not all that innocent, but they can be very romantic.” Hope flared in my chest. Could she possibly be interested? “I’ve always wondered what it was like, being interested in another woman, how the chemistry would work,” she half-laughed, not edging away, but closer instead. “It works, trust me.” I knew she’d understand what that meant. “Oh?” she replied archly, raising one of her eyebrows. “I should just take your word for it, hm?” I almost stopped breathing. Was she implying what I thought (hoped) she was? “Well,” I said, letting my voice drop a little lower and half closing my eyes, “you don’t have to take only my word for it.” And feeling more daring than ever, I moved forward half an inch and wrapped my arms around her waist. She leaned into my arms and twined her arms behind my neck. The song changed again, into Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer”. We began to move together, eyes locked into the other’s, grinding into each other sinuously. I let my hands slide up and down her back and sides. She slid her arms from my neck down to my waist slowy, letting her fingers brush the sides of my breasts. I bent forward and kissed the side of her neck, tasting her skin, letting my hands snake down and caress her firm womanly ass. She gave a little gasp, then a moan as I gently bit into her soft neck, just under her jaw. I lifted my head, and she gave me a look smoldering with something more than just lust, before she moved closer and touched her lips to mine. I let her guide the kiss. She parted my lips with her tongue and clasped me to her harder, our breasts rubbing against each other, stiff nipples exciting the other’s. I raked my nails up her ass through her dress, pushing my tongue against hers. She moved her hands down to my ass, kneading her fingers into it. I broke of the kiss with a gasp and said, “Let’s get out of here. My place?” She merely nodded her agreement and we wove our way through the crowd and out the door with a wave from Anthony. We got to the car, where we kissed and clung to each other for a few minutes before getting in. As I drove, Emma placed her hand on my thigh and caressed it in swirling motions, making it very hard for me to drive. When we finally got to my apartment, I all but slammed her against my door, kissing her lips, her neck, her hair, all while trying to unlock the door. Inside, I led her to the bedroom by the hand. I had found a nice small complex outside the city limits, so it was dark enough for moonlight to shine uninterrupted through the open blinds. I turned to face her a foot from my queen-sized bed, looking at her to make sure she wanted to be here. Before I could say anything, she came toward me and put her hands on my breast, flicking the nipples with her nails. I closed my eyes and moaned, then opened them, a devilish smile on my lips. I encircled her with my arms and unzipped her dress in one quick moment, the green fabric falling to the floor before she knew what had happened. “Hmmm, seems someone did the naughty thing and went without a bra and topped it off with a skimpy little thong,” I teased, shaking my finger at her coyly. For there she stood, almost completely naked, with only a little black lace thong barely covering her trimmed pussy. I began to unbutton my blouse one button at a time, until I shrugged it off and slowly unzipped my skirt, inching it off like an erotic dancer, twitching my hips to imaginary music, until I, like her, stood in nothing but a little deep purple thong myself. “See? We almost match.” She grinned and moved towards me, trailing her hands over my bare skin, tracing the outline of my thong before cupping my breasts once more and rolling my nipples between her supple fingers. Then, to my surprise, she bent and placed her lips around my left nipple, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking it between her teeth. I groaned, my pussy instantly warming and growing steadily damper. She looked up at me through her lashes and switched to my right nipple while kneading my right with her hand. I tangled my hand in her hair, clasping her head to my tit, hissing through my teeth as she bit a little too hard on my nipple, but getting hotter all the same. Suddenly I wrenched her head up, though not hard enough to be truly painful and pushed her onto the bed. I crawled on top of her, straddling her hips, grabbing her breasts and twisting the nipples gently, causing her to moan and squirm. I could feel her pussy getting wet beneath mine, and I grinned evilly. “You liked that, didn’t you?” I asked. She nodded and gasped, “Yes. Oh, God, Zoe, I haven’t felt like this in years…” Years? Poor baby. I needed to show her everything she’d been missing. I stretched out on top of her, covering her mouth with mine, shoving my tongue in her mouth, still pinching her nipples. I moved slowly down to her neck, biting and sucking on her delicate alabaster flesh, her little gasps as I found a particularly sensitive spot very rewarding. I trailed my way down to her breasts, licking her pink little nipples and nibbling on them until she whimpered with the need for release. I moved my hands down to her thong, slipping a finger in a pushing it against her wet lips for a brief second, before slipping the flimsy material down her legs. I licked and kissed my way down her stomach until I got to her hips. I ignored her soaking pussy completely, instead licking up and down one thigh, then the next. “Zoe! Please!” Emma begged me. I decided I had worked her up enough and promptly spread her legs apart. I stared at her beautiful snatch for a moment then used my fingers to separate her lips and touched the tip of my tongue to her swollen clit. A shiver ran through her body. I slid my tongue up and down her slit, then slipped two fingers into her and sucking her clit into my mouth. She moaned loudly and put her hand behind my head, pulling me into her pussy. I started slowly pumping my fingers in and out of her, while I sucked and licked her clit until she was screaming for release. “Oh! Oh! Zoe… Zoe… Fuck me… please… fuck me harder… harder…” My fingers pumped faster, and right as I felt her body start to tense for its orgasm I bit down on her clit. She arched her back and her juices gushed all over my face and hand as the wave crashed over her, screaming wordlessly. She went limp as the orgasm subsided, and I took my hand out of her, licking her juices off with a happy smile. “Michael’s never made me feel so good…” Emma whispered after she had pulled herself together. “Well, more for me, then,” I chuckled. She sighed contentedly, then looked at me and said, “Can I do that to you?” “Emma, is this your first time with a woman?” “Yes. I know I might not be any good, but… you made me feel so good, I…” “I don’t mind, but I just want to make sure you really want to do that. I don’t mind if you don’t. I’m happy making sure you’ve been fulfilled.” Her reply was to flip me over onto my back and straddle my hips. “I really want to.” She scooted backwards until she knelt besides my knees. Slowly, carefully, she hooked a finger into either side of my panties and slipped them off. She stared at my pussy for a long moment, then placed a hand on each thigh and gently pushed them apart. She reached down and began to stroke my clit, haltingly at first, then picking up a smoother rhythm. I let my head fall back and closed my eyes, feeling the heat spread from my pussy until my toes and fingers felt warm and tingly. Suddenly I gasped, my eyes flying open, as I felt her tongue against my slit. She continued to pinch and stroke my clit with her fingers while she thrust her tongue inside me, making me moan her name over and over, massaging her hair with my desperate hands. “Emma… uhhh… yes… I’m going to… going to… CUMMMMMM…” I felt myself stiffen and twitch as I moaned and panted through the most incredible orgasm. My hands flexed once, twice in her hair, then I went limp as the surge left me, soaked in sweat and sex. Emma crawled back up the bed and cuddled down next to me as I recovered. “Did I do well?” she asked, smiling, my juices still glistening on her face in the moonlight. “More than well,” I assured, when I had my breath back, “you’re fantastic.” This was my first story for Nifty. Please send any comments rce. Thanx!

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