Chapter 2

Emma’s futon bed was considerably larger than the bland metal frame in my room. Since she would roll it up every day it could take up much more space. Lowering myself onto it was a strange experience in several senses. It was so low that sitting on it felt odd. It was softer than it looked. Most of all, though, there was a girl lying on the right side, propped up on her elbow, dark golden curls spilling out behind her, watching me through green-framed glasses.

I lay on my back, stretched along the futon. I assumed that’s what Emma would want me to do, and she didn’t redirect me. The pillow was small, and felt almost like a lightweight beanbag. I sat up again and picked it up.

“Wriggle the back of your head into it,” Emma advised. “It will keep its shape. They’re really comfortable to sleep on.”

So I lay back down, and the pillow worked as she’d claimed.

The duvet was coiled up behind Emma. She unrolled it over us. Then she took off her glasses, folded them on the mat at the head of the futon, and shook her hair out behind her. “Last chance to chicken out,” she said.

I shook my head once, then said, “But you promise you’ll stop in time.”

“Mmhmm,” she said, then lowered herself all the way onto the bed, facing me.

The duvet was pulled up to our shoulders, so I couldn’t see Emma’s hand, but I saw her arm move, then felt her fingers against my belly. She walked them down my body to my shorts, then slipped them inside, extending them over my panties.

The waistband of the shorts tightened around me. “Let me loosen them,” I whispered, and unfastened the bow, as Emma’s hand cupped my pussy and began to squeeze.

She was gentle, but the pressure of her palm against my sex was insistent, and I felt myself start to tingle with the stirring of arousal. Although as I felt the sensation, I realized that I’d been feeling something akin to it for a long time. The anticipation of Emma’s fingers on me had been more thrilling than I’d admitted, and had prepared me better than I’d realized. So when I began to feel my breathing deepen, I knew that the excitement had been building within me for some time.

Emma’s eyes were locked onto my face. I glanced over at her, but the intensity with which she was studying my reactions was unnerving. Clearly she was taking great care not to make me uncomfortable, but the result was that her efforts to avoid that outcome were causing it. So I stared at the ceiling and tried to remember not to glance over toward her.

The rhythm of her hand was slow and sensuous, and I was anticipating each squeeze with a slight press of my hips, but it still felt to me that my arousal was mild. If I’d been using my vibe I’d have been much further along. So, when Emma drew her hand higher, I was surprised to realize that my panties were slick against her fingers.

Then she pressed her hand back lower, but this time it was inside the waistband of my panties. She hadn’t even gone inside me, but her fingers against my pussy lips made my belly churn with desire. The heel of her thumb pressed to the mound of my clit, and she rolled her hand from side to side as her fingertips slipped just barely inside.

My heart raced as I continued to stare at the ceiling, but it was hard to tell whether it was directly the result of Emma’s touch, or my unease at the whole situation. Even though I’d overcome the squick factor, it wasn’t entirely absent, and a girl touching me inside felt wrong.

But it didn’t feel bad. Quite the opposite. Especially as one finger slipped a little further in and began to circle.

Each motion of her finger inside me set up a counterpressure against the sensitive place under the back of her thumb. To every action, there’s an equal and opposite…

Emma’s fingers stopped moving, though she didn’t withdraw them. “You okay?” she asked.

I shook my head. “School on my brain. I’m good.” I was surprised at how hoarse my voice sounded. I glanced over to see Emma nod before she resumed her work.

The accidental interruption had broken some of my resistance to the situation. I guess a moment’s normalcy had set my feelings in better perspective, and I was able to relax. At least in that one sense, because the sensations building in my clit were far from relaxing. I parted my lips to ease my deep breathing, my chest rising higher under the duvet.

If Cam would treat me like this… I mused, then felt a pang of resentment. If he had been a little more persistent with foreplay like this, I might have been able to climax with him. Had that ever been important to him?

Emma’s hand shifted a little, and I felt a light caress directly against my clit. “Hnnn…” I grunted, the muscles in my lower belly tensing. The caress became a steady roll, and I began to pant. My thighs had begun to tighten, pressing my sex against Emma’s touch. God, this feeling was pure arousal, perhaps even more so than if there’d been attraction and lust. Not wanting the feeling to end, I managed to suppress a moan, but it made me shudder. My breasts felt warm under the duvet, and I wanted to push it back, but I didn’t want to reveal the depth of my arousal to Emma’s intense scrutiny.

It didn’t help. She must have had a pretty good handle on my state. I felt her palm slide up my body, fingers slipping out of me. She lightly pinched my clit before withdrawing completely, and I squirmed, letting out the moan I’d been trying to hold back.

“I think it’s time you went back to your room,” she murmured. “I hope your toy is charged.”

I wanted to say it’s not going to need much of a charge, but I didn’t think I could form the words. So I nodded and stood – which was harder from the low futon than from a bed – then scampered back to my room.

Prolonging the experience wasn’t on the cards. I pressed the vibe firmly to my clit, turned it to high, and held it there until my body began to spasm, crying out once as a wave of pleasure rolled into me.

When I set the toy aside I was feeling more relaxed and content than at any time since I’d moved in.

Emma was up and working on coffee already when I returned from my next morning run. I exchanged a quick nod with her, thinking that I ought to feel awkward or embarrassed, but I didn’t.

When I emerged from the shower, I sat at the table in my robe and sipped the coffee Emma had poured. “Thanks,” I said, and she gave me a brief smile, her eyes bright behind her glasses.

“Sleep well?” she asked, with a trace of irony.

“Best night’s sleep for a while,” I replied. “You?”

“Good,” she said. After a sip of coffee, she asked, “Want to schedule another session?”

I had thought about it. My tension was gone, but I didn’t think I’d need to feel deprived to enjoy a repeat. “I dunno,” I said. “Doesn’t it just transfer my frustration to you?”

She grinned quickly. “I wouldn’t say that,” she said.

“Sure, then,” I said. “Not tonight. I need to catch up on my project.”

“I’m out tomorrow,” she said. “Saturday?”

“Sure, why not?” I agreed.

After breakfast on Saturday, Emma left the apartment for the day. I spent most of the time studying, then picked up tacos. After I’d eaten, I showered, then lounged in PJs and robe in one of the two comfortable chairs in the kitchen / dining / living / everything room watching TV. We didn’t have a video subscription, and my choices were college sports, college sports, or NCIS, so I spent an hour sipping a diet Sprite and watching the procedural.

Emma hadn’t shown up, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. We’d agreed on an activity, but we didn’t have any kind of commitment or promise, and it wasn’t something she owed me. I had to admit I was mildly disappointed, though. I was about to turn off the TV and get an early night when the door opened at her return.

“Sorry, I meant to be back a couple of hours ago,” she said. “Let me get a shower and take my eyes out, and I’ll be ready… if you’re still up for it, of course?”

“Sure,” I said. “Take your time.”

The ice in my drink was fully melted when Emma opened the door of her room and beckoned me in. I poured out the slightly sweet water, left the glass in the sink and complied, after tossing my robe into my room, then settled down onto her bed.

Again, Emma covered us both with the duvet before starting her task. I remembered to loosen my pajama shorts as soon as she did, then her fingers moved into them.

This time she didn’t study me in the same way. It seemed she’d decided what worked well, and didn’t need so much feedback. Her eyes were mostly on my face, but didn’t carry the same intensity, and glancing over at her no longer made me uncomfortable.

Or maybe I was just getting used to this weird situation.

Whatever the case, her fingers still were very effectively turning me on. This time she was avoiding my clit, and after caressing my labia until I felt myself getting wet, she pushed my panties aside and slipped two fingers inside me, exploring, then moving firmly in a slow stroke.

Her movements were almost mechanical, with no apparent thought to being sensual. It was as though she wasn’t really involved in them. And yet each stroke increased the tingling within by a tiny fragment. Maybe distancing was a tactic to prevent me from becoming aroused too quickly. If that was the intention, it worked, and she was able to keep up the motion for a long time.

Even so, the constant motion had me breathing heavily, and beginning to rock my hips against her hand. I began to feel overheated, and pushed the duvet down. Emma’s eyes followed the movement as I did, resting for a moment on the swell of my breasts within the thin blue fabric, then returned to my face.

Her hand began to move faster and further, her fingers curling forward, pressing firmly to the inside of my sex. What had been a growing arousal unfurled into a full-body feeling that vibrated to the tips of my fingers and toes. I suppressed a moan, but my self-conscious control couldn’t prevent my back arching as pleasure stirred within.

Then Emma’s movements slowed, and she slowly withdrew her hand. My body quivered before lowering to the bed, and my breath was ragged.

“It’s that time, I guess,” I said, with a little regret.

“Wait a moment,” Emma said. “Catch your breath.”

I did, though I really wanted to get to my own bed and do what was needed. My breathing became smooth, if still a little heavy, and my heart stopped racing, though I could feel every pulse.

Glancing at Emma, I saw a slight smirk on her face. I didn’t know what she had planned, but it wasn’t to let me lose my arousal before sending me away. Her damp fingers rested on my thigh, and she showed no sign of moving them away.

Instead, I felt them move back toward my sex. Then one finger caressed me, over the folds of my sex to my clit, and began to clrcle slowly. The sharp jolt of arousal cut into me like a knife. A knife of pleasure… if I hadn’t been straining to relax my breathing, I might have laughed at the incongruity. My feelings surged, and my back lifted from the bed, hips trying to push my sex against her finger.

Was she really going to stop, this time?

I moaned aloud, the sound bypassing any control I might have tried to impose.

Would it matter if she didn’t stop?

Yes, I decided, it would, but I was incapable of making it happen. The slow motion against my clit just made me want more, and I writhed in need….

And then it was gone.

“Now you can go,” Emma whispered, and I did, holding my loose pajama shorts up as I stood.

In my room, I didn’t even bother with the vibe. I just collapsed on the bed, slipped a finger inside my panties and tried to simulate her touch on my clit. It didn’t feel quite as good, but at this point it didn’t need to. I writhed on the bed for a few seconds, then whimpered as I climaxed, hard.

As I came I was picturing Emma’s knowing smirk, as though my fingers against me were just an extension of what she’d done.

I didn’t bother with my run on Sunday. I always tried to plan the week that I could use the day to relax completely. If I needed to buy food, I’d do that, but otherwise I wouldn’t study and wouldn’t work out. So I didn’t get up until after eight-thirty, getting myself cereal and starting the coffee machine.

When Emma came into the kitchen I felt my cheeks warm. Strange. I didn’t think I had any reason to be embarrassed. “Morning,” I said, then echoing the earlier “morning after” conversation, “Sleep well?”

“Mmh, great,” she said.

“Your bed’s more comfortable than mine,” I said, as she poured herself coffee. My cheeks still felt too warm.

She grinned. “I’ve been told that before.”

That brought a surge of annoyance. What the hell? Why would I care that anyone else found her bed pleasant?

“I, uh…” I began, not sure why continuing felt awkward, “I didn’t think you were going to stop.”

She flashed me a smile. “I told you. I know what I’m doing. It was better for you that way, right?”

Again, the sensation of warmth on my cheeks. “Yeah, it was.”

She gave a satisfied nod.

“I’m going to walk to the grocery this afternoon,” I said, for want of a conversation topic. “Want to come with?”

The grocery was a little over a half-mile from our apartment. There was a convenience store closer, but if we needed more than one or two items, the grocery was worth the walk. We each carried two bags as we returned home.

“When next?” Emma asked, after we’d crossed the only major street on the route. The rest of the walk was in an old but safe neighborhood.