It was almost time for last call. Brandon wiped the soppy rag over the heel counter and put the empty glass the girl had just put down into the crateful under the bar with the other dirty glasses.

"One more ?"he asked. She nodded and took her notecase from her purse. He handed her the scotch on the stone - her sixth or seventh one for the eventide - and wondered how she managed to keep her balance on the high barstool. Her eyes had that glass over spirit of somebody who had definitely had a few too many, but if he had not been the one to decant her drinks - all six or seven of them - he would not hold guessed she was drunk. There was no characteristic slumping or wobbling or even raucous laughter. In fact, her ramrod straight posture and unearthly symmetry reminded him of a ballet instructor, especially with her hairsbreadth scraped back into a bun like that. She was pretty enough, in a neat, mousy little way. It was impossible to hazard a guess at the figure under the bulky, shapeless coating she was wearing over goodness knew what. She was wearing glasses with a nice frame that actually suited her face in a non-descript variety of way. Brandon had never seen such a ennoble drunk in his life. She had better manners drunk than most people had when they were stone cold sober and sitting their grandmother's sitting way.

"Thank you,"she said politely when she accepted her change and slipped half of it into the tip-jar, as she had been doing all even. He kept an eye on her as he started straightening nursing bottle on the shelf behind him, wondering about her story.

Brandon loved his job. He owned several bars and still spent an eve now and then behind the counter. After serving drinks for three years across the globe when he was refreshing out of high school, he enjoyed the occasional tripper down memory lane. It fascinated him to see how alike people were, no issue where they lived. Broken hearts healed just as slowly in Aloha State as they did in Australia, and flirting was a universal art that did not differ too much from one place to another. He loved watching the games, the machination, the emotions, as people relaxed around him. He'd seen it all - the break-ups and the make-ups, the aspirer individual scouring the bar for the passion of their spirit - or at least the lay of the dark. He'd seen the great unwashed drink to blank out, or to try to keep retentivity awake. He'd seen them drink because there was cipher else to do, or because they couldn't do anything else. He'd seen the lonely little girl go home plate with the incorrectly men and knew they'd wake up the next morning with alcohol on their breath and sorrow in their fondness. He'd seen fair sex play fast and at large, and the men who managed to get out their clutch. He'd seen the best and the forged of people, but he thought he'd never quite seen anything like the little girl sitting there in a dull brown pelage, finishing one drinkable after another without toppling over or falling into somebody's lap on her way to the bath. She was fresh and new, and it intrigued him.

The bar was rather empty in comparison to most Friday nights. But to be fair, it was the centre of the month and there was a blizzard raging on exterior. He was closing up originally than common to ease up the staff and the customers the luck to get abode before it got worse. The bang-up Lady - there was other way to distinguish her - was one of the diehards, but since she was hardly causing a tantrum, he didn't ask her to leave behind just yet while they were cleaning up.

Finally they were done, and he had to ask her to provide. She blinked owlishly at him from behind her chalk.
"self-justification me ?"she asked, as if she had not heard him the first sentence.
He leaned closer and thought he caught a whiff of something sporty and reinvigorated under the ripe smell of alcohol and closed-up hoi polloi that hung over the room.
"It's closing time,"he repeated."We're going to operate up."
"Oh,"she said, frowning slightly as her afflicted brain tried to sort out his words."rightfulness,"she said finally."Well, I'll just go then, won't I ?"
"Can I call you a cab ?"he asked, because she still had not moved from her ass. He waved a hired man at the two waiter and the other barkeep, indicating that he would lock up and they could go dwelling house.
She looked at him, her eyes still slightly unfocused.
"To make you home,"he explained."You shouldn't drive."
"Did I come with a car ?"she asked, bewildered."I hope not. I don't own a car. Did I slip one ?"
He grinned. This was fun. Normally sot multitude just annoyed him a bit, but this girl struck a chord somewhere in his chest he'd never known to exist.
"Not that I know of,"he said."How did you get here ?"
"I must stimulate walked,"she said, puzzled."From body of work. partiality that."
"What study do you do ?"he asked as Rod, one of the server, closed the door behind the former stave members.
"I'm a libal… librali… a li-bra-rian,"she said, looking quite pleased with herself for managing the watchword. Fancy that indeed, he thought, his mind going into immediate overdrive at the mention of her vocation. Like many, many men, he harboured a secret librarian Fantasy. Even the way she broke it up into syllables didn't diminish the cerebration running though his question.

The job suited her perfectly, he thought. She was cut out for the secretiveness and air of wisdom and propriety that hung around the Koran like dusty clouds. He imagined being scolded by her for being too loud and grinned.

"Where do you live ?"he wanted to know. He would avail her plate, ring her a cab, and blank out about her. She was not the type of librarian he fantasized about - she had trash, but they were the wrong variety, and even though her hair was scraped back out of her look, there was aught sexy about it. She was n't wearing nearly enough make-up and not at all the right kind of apparel, either. She was just a fille, hiding behind stacks of books. Her fingers were unadorned, and he guessed her to be single. She probably had four or five cats and a vibrator named Bob hidden in her nightstand that she rarely used because it made her find guilty.

"Up the street, I think,"she said, pointing vaguely with her fingers."That way. You have pretty eyes."
He lifted an amused brow. ‘ That way'would film him to the kitchen and eventually, an back street behind the building.
"How about an address ?"he asked."To give to the cab-driver."
He grabbed a composition napkin and a pen. She wrote slowly, carefully, her handwriting still managing to be straight than his illegible cacography.
"You don't live far from me,"he said, lying smoothly."Just one stop Dixieland, to be precise. Would you like a lift house ?"
"Never get in the car with unknown,"she said firmly.
"A cab driver is also a stranger,"he pointed out.
"Not the Sami thing."
"Nope. But on minute mentation, I'm not sure you'll find a cab in this weather."
"That's right,"she said, smiling broadly for the number one time. The expression transformed her font from knit stitch to pretty. Her innocence amused and tickled him."It's snowing. Like a White Christmas."
He couldn't assistant it. He grinned - it was January. She was n't just drink, she was completely sloshed. But still amazingly horse barn and logical.

"Let's get you home,"he said, coming around the bar to help her from the stool. This was not something he ever did. He owned the bars ; how the patrons got home was their trouble, not his. But he couldn't just leave this girl to her own device, not unless he wanted the succeeding time he heard about her to be her name in an obituary. She'd probably fall asleep in the stale right outside his bar and die. It would stimulate all variety of undesirable paperwork and patrol interrogative.

She didn't even need his help standing up. The John Barleycorn, it seemed, had not affected her counterbalance one bit. Still, he kept a hand on her back to channelise her. He locked up behind them while she stood looking at him through her wide, trusting heart.
"You're really tall,"she said."I wish I was taller."
"You're the hone pinnacle,"he said."See ? My arm fits right lash out your shoulders. You're like a portable armrest."
She didn't giggle at that, and he wondered of she'd heard him. It was a fairly lame antic, but in his experience, drunk people will laugh at anything.
"I wish I was hot,"she said."Like you. But not like you. Like a young woman. Then maybe I could have sex."
He coughed, choking on his hint, the way some people trip over their own feet.
"What ?"he asked when he finally had the air back in the right pipes.
"I wish I was prettier,"she said matter-of-factly."I'm not being pessimistic, really. I just… well, no use crying for the moon, is there ?"
"You are pretty,"he said automatically. She sighed.
"I'm not. But thank you for pretending, anyway. Oh, my goodness, it's cold."
He had just opened the cover room access and yes, it was cold indeed. The idle words was blowing sheets of snow into their faces and heaping it against the side of the building. He steered her with one helping hand in the direction of his car, which was parked under the staff-members-only roof.

He cranked up the hummer and took the drive slowly and carefully. The common cold was making her drowsy, and he could see her drumhead drooping slightly. No question the drinks were finally taking force.
"I take it you don't beverage often ?"he said.
"Nope,"she said, pulling the bound of her rather ugly coat faithful around her."I've never been toast before."
Until tonight, he thought, but he waited for her to remain on her own. After a few instant, she did.
"I'm sort of a Virgo the Virgin,"she said."By choice. But it's not my choice."She gave a self-deprecating laugh."Technically I'm no longer one. But I've never been with a man, you know ?"
fountainhead, he certainly knew now. But his class as a barman had taught him when to listen and when to speak. So he kept quiet.

"well, anyway, I always thought it was because I'm too shy. Men don't like that, right ?"
"Some do,"he said, because what else could he say ?
"prevaricator,"she said fondly."nonentity wants to be with soul who's ashamed of themselves. I know I wouldn't like that in a man, so I can hardly wait any man to demo interest in me. That's why I went out tonight,"she added after a few seconds."Too see if crapulence helps me get loose. Turns out I'm even boring when I'm drunk."

"You're not ho-hum,"he said firmly."You just need to learn how to counterfeit it. Everybody is secretly self-aware. Some just obscure it better that others. You need to determine a way to hazard. If you can convince yourself, you know other mass will believe it."
"I don't think I'd know how,"she said."I'm no good at acting or pretending or lying. I can't even lie to telephone sales agreement people."
"I'll assist you,"he said impulsively."I'll appearance you how to fudge it."
"Really ?"
"Sure. When you're sober. Anything I teach you now will be wasted."
"Like me,"she sighed."I'm wasted, and all I want to do is go to bed. That's my building up there.'
"That's a gas station,"he said with a grin.
"Oh."She frowned."Then it's not my construction, is it ?"
"I sincerely hope not."

They found her edifice eventually, tucked away between a magniloquent, scary-looking block of flat and a three-story bridal dress shop. He helped her out of the car and up the steps. It took her three fourth dimension to key the the right way series of numbers into the keypad so the door would spread out. Finally, she recited them to him to read it in.

"Thank you,"she said awkwardly."For the face lift, and the ear."
He grinned."No problem,"he said."Hey, what's your public figure ?"
"Emily,"she said.
Emily. It suited her perfectly, as if her parents had had a glimpse of her in the hereafter when they named her. She looked like an Emily more than anybody else he'd ever met.
"I'm Brandon,"he said."Can I clean you up tomorrow around noon for your first lesson ?"
"Lesson ?"
"In faking it."
It occurred to him then that ‘ faking it'might advert to something else as well, but he always made goddamned sure a female child does not need to falsify it when she's with him. Not that he planned to have sex with her. This girl's second name was Complication. It would be cruel to gazump her cherry and then be off on his merry way. She was not the character to come - and then go.
"okay. Wan na come up ?"

He considered saying no, but realised she might take assistant to get into her apartment. It seemed her nous had simply been behind on its reaction, and she was finally in the inept unbalance stage of drunkenness.
She might get hurt, or lost, or nose up asleep on a hall chair somewhere.
"Sure, ”'he said.

It was three interesting flights of stairs. She only almost-fell seven meter, even with his arm around her waist. She was still incessantly polite, apologising profusely and telling him how pretty he was.
Yeah, because that's what every guy secretly wants to be. Pretty.

He had to get her winder and unlock the door himself. She was toppling over and had to hold onto the wall with both men to keep from introducing her ass to the priming. It was a good thing she was wearing sensible flats rather than sexy heels, and he had to be the first-class honours degree guy ever to have that special thought.
"There we go,"he said when he finally got the threshold open. She would need to get a locksmith to take a look at the thing - the key had stuck a bit, as if the mechanism inside was rust-brown.

Her planetary house surprised him. He had unconsciously expected it to be decorated like something from the puritanical Era - Chintz and efflorescence, frilly and stuffy. Chokingly girly. It wasn't. Oh, it was undeniable a female place, but it was feminine rather than girlish. The door opened into the sitting way, which had a sage green lounge with big tweed pillows and lampshade. The lavender drapery had been drawn against the cold air and what was probably a dreary scene outside. The art against the bulwark was lovely - no mod skyscrapers with red splashes to indicate blood and lecherousness, or wriggling shapes than reminded him of distaff sex organs during ovulation.

A little little cookhouse kitchen on the right field showed no dirty sweetheart in the sink, and a glow espresso machine on the countertop next to an equally gleaming microwave.
He half-carried, half-dragged her to the only former threshold, guessing it to be the bedroom.

It was, and here was more cogent evidence of neat, unlittered taste. The room was petite, with built-in cupboards and barely sufficiency outer space to walk around the bed to the can on the early side.
"You gon na kiss me now ?"she asked when he helped her onto the bed and slid a pillow under her caput.
"Sure, matter, honey,"he said as he switched on the bedside lamp so he could turn off the harsh disk overhead fix."In a minute, approve ? You just wait right there."
He made sure she wasn't too close to the edge to roll off and brought her a glass of piddle from the kitchen. He found Advils in her bathroom cabinet, along with some make-up and an unopened packet of rubber. compassion stirred his heart. She was well and truly lonely, was n't she ? All cosseted in her low little apartment, hiding behind books and reasonably picture. So far he hadn't seen any sign of a cat, but maybe the building didn't allow pets.

He found a heater and turned it up. She was lying suspiciously still on her English, one arm flung out to the side. He tucked it into a more comfortable berth. It was the desire to get her well-fixed as much as curiosity that made him expect until she was deeply asleep, or, more in all likelihood, passed out, before he pulled her coat off to uncover her body.

She was small, and firm, and the only Scripture he could retrieve of to describe her was neat. She was perfectly non-descript. She had bosom, but they were just there, situated on her thorax much in the way a olfactory organ is situated more or less in the center of a face. He doubted he'd notice them if he saw her in the short letter at the grocery store former than for the obvious reason - they were female person breasts, and therefore bounce to be noticed, even if they did not get a arcsecond look. They were completely modal bosom. He couldn't see much, as she was wearing a creamy beige sweater that had clearly been bought with an eye on heat rather than pepperiness, and brown slacks that sat loose around her legs and revealed zilch about what her physical structure looked like.
He shook his header as he slipped her skid from her ft and considered doing her another favor and tossing them in the trash. They were butt-fuck-ugly. He hated sensible brake shoe on a woman.

He pulled the comfort over her torso and since he had some experience with drunk masses, found a plastic bucketful in her kitchen to put next to her bed. She seemed to have missed the psychedelic-yawn, porcelain-god-worshipping part of the evening, but judging by the fact that her body seemed to have its own estimate of how to react to alcohol, he was n't taking anything for granted. She would detest herself if she woke up in the morning time, only to retrieve she'd puked all over her pretty, plush Andrew D. White carpet. Who bought Edward White rug anyway ? Was n't that like a direct invite to Karma and Murphy and all those early sadistic fauna who makes people shed coffee just after they get dressed in a new shirt, or back their car into a lamp perch the starting time time they take it out for a thrust ?

He left a firearm of paper with the direction to drink the pad and the water succeeding to the field glass and went back downstairs, only to tread back up when he couldn't bump his paint in his pocket.
It wasn't in the living elbow room either, nor anywhere else in her house that he could determine. He went as far as opening her underwear drawer ( he really was dire, after all, ) and was not too surprised that they weren't there. He was pleasantly surprised, however, that the librarian madam had quite proficient gustatory sensation in underwear. He didn't touch any of the pretty lacing and satin snipping of framework, but he could suppose them on her easily enough, and it made for a pretty image.

He finally located his keys - sitting in the ignition of his car, the doors firmly locked against him.
"Son of a squawk !"he said, slamming a frustrated hand onto the snowy roof."Dammit !"
He took his phone from his air pocket and tried to prognosticate a cab companionship to come get him and take him abode to get his spare key, but just as he got an wheeler dealer his phone made a upbeat beep just before the electric battery died. He considered throwing the POS into the nearest heap of blow, but figured that would be counterproductive.
He was stuck, and he'd be dammed if he was going to hold back for the sun to rise outside on the streets, looking at a engage car.

He trudged back on a higher floor, grateful that he hadn't been able to mesh the door behind him and made himself at least semi-comfortable on Emily's couch, and closed his eyes. By any hazard he would be awake and gone long before girl Emily found the courage to leave her bed. And when he left, he would stay on gone. She probably won't remember the tearaway promise he had made to help her get confidence, so she won't be upset when he doesn't display up. He already regretted the invitation - Emily the librarian was not the type of girl he needed to spend time with. She was too shy - she said so herself - and she dressed atrociously. Except for her underclothing, of course. She was plain, bordering on dowdy, a self-proclaimed Virgin, ( whatever she had meant by technically ) and she had you're-going-to-break-my-heart written all over her.

She was a bibliothec, for goodness rice beer. That was a coinage of woman best suited to the pornography industriousness, where they wore impractical high-heeled pumps and button down shirts with sexy spyglass and tight skirts. If you put Emily in an getup like that she would… well, she would wait hot, to be true. Almost any woman would look awful, dressed like that. He imagined it easily, right down to the stern tone she was giving him for putting a book in the awry shelf.
"It belongs in the spine,"she would say and motion for him to follow her so she could show him where to put it. He would wait for the right moment to pin her against the shelves and buss the livelihood daylights out of her while his work force explored her hot and eager curved shape. She would skid one leg around his waistline and grind against him seductively…

Brandon came to his senses with a shock, his hand around his stopcock. He groaned. This was ridiculous. He was sporting a hard-on for the most wood-uninspiring girl he's ever met. She was shy and plain and, frankly, her life was a little poor. She had to be at least twenty-six and she'd never had sex ? What was he even doing in her house, other than trying to beat one out ?
He swore and closed his heart, trying to get well-to-do and wishing he had a cover.
This was what he got for playing the adept Samaritan.

Emily could feel the ignitor all the way down to her nauseous abdomen, and it burned the entirely way down.
"Oh,"she moaned and wondered, briefly, if a freight string or a passenger one had hit her. The question seemed authoritative, somehow. Her head word felt like the snarl of a Pac-Man game. Something was running around inside there and eating bits of grey-matter. She tried to squint through the humble of snatch she could make with eyelids - straight into the light of her bedside lamp. She could hear her corneas go up in flaming. She whimpered and turned her face into her pillow to cover from it. She regretted waking up with every vulcanized fiber of her being. The longer she was awake, the more emergence were brought under her attention by her irate torso. Her mouth tasted like something she would gag at if she were to smell it on her way to wok. Her consistence was sore, and she was nauseous. The most compact problem, however, was her bladder, which was screaming for tending. She eased her peg over the side of her bed carefully, surprised to find out herself in her wrinkled angora sweater and slackness of the late day. At least she'd had the sensation to kick off her shoes the previous eventide before she got in bed.

Her eyes fell on the bright red bucket sitting next to her bed. It was the one she used when she washed floors or windows, and it belonged in her kitchen on top of the cupboard that holds other cleaning supplying. What was it doing next to her bed ? The next secondly she grabbed for it as her breadbasket revolted against the switch from horizontal to vertical. She was regorge ; violently and tear-inducingly sick. When it was over she sat there, sweating and just trying to get her breath. Another wave hit her and she was infinitely grateful for the bucket, though she still had no idea how it got there.

Finally it seemed to be over for rattling. She made her way cautiously to her bathroom and emptied the bucket in the privy with a face. She would make clean it later. No, she would throw it out. nobody needed a monitor like that sitting in their kitchen.

She flushed the toilet before she unbuckled her slacks and sat down, relief spreading over her body like a blossom. Eventually she realised she couldn't hide on her toilette forever and she got up.
She just looked at herself in the mirror. Was that her ? That rumpled, bleary-eyed unknown who's make-up had smeared and whose hair… well, to be fair, the ruthless bun she'd tied her hair in had held pretty well. It still looked reasonably neat, in compare to the rest of her. But her skin was Stanford White, her heart red. There were pillow-creases on her stoppage and she smelled like… No. There was no words to describe the odours wafting around her. But it was foul-smelling and she might need to burn her clothes.

She pulled it off, stepped into the rain shower and closed the curtain. The next minute she screamed when the icy water hit her cutis and she realised too deep that she should give birth waited a second for the hot water system to reach the pipework. It cleared her head instantly, however, and she forced herself to stick out there while it warmed.
That's when she heard her lav door swing open, and an unfamiliar vox say,"What the blaze ?"
Oh, beloved heavens. There was a man in her apartment.

Brandon could see faint move behind the translucent mantle - he truly hated those things - but nothing else. He'd woken up to the cheerful sounds of somebody throwing up and considered leaving before she emerged. But he would still be stranded until he could get nursing home for his spare key, and he knew the ma'am would probably have a few doubt regarding the former evening. It seemed cruel now to leave her to her own meditation. And then she'd screamed and although he knew there was probably no crazy axe-murderer in her bathroom, he did find some concern. Or, at the very least, the desire to be witness to her abasement. The uncharacteristic bout of puniness was undoubtedly brought upon by the crink in his neck after spending the night on a couch that was too short for his underframe. Why didn't women invest in man-sized leather sofa or lazy-boys with cup-holders ?

"Who ‘ s there ?"she asked, and he could get word the chill in her articulation. Was it fear or cold ?
"Me,"he said, wanting to punish her - just a niggling - for the worst Night of his life. Not that it was entirely her fracture. He had decided to help her dwelling house all on his own, after all. But the punishment her sofa had meted out had neutralised his theatrical role in this little clusterfuck. That, and the raging subject of puritanical balls he was suffering from even now. Though, to be average, there was no way in which he could hold her responsible for for that.
"I,"she said.
"What ?"Brandon asked, confused.
"You mean I. Not me. Grammatically speaking…"
"You're giving me a grammar lesson ?"he asked, astounded."You're naked in the rain shower and there's a alien outside who could, for all intent and intention, have a chainsaw or an galvanic convenience, and you're pointing out grammatical misplay ?"
There was a moment of silence, during which he could only see the audio of running H2O.
"Do you have a chainsaw or an electric gizmo ?"she asked after a few seconds. Steam was rising and she sighed in pleasure. The sound shot consecutive downstairs. He winced.
"No,"he admitted.
"fountainhead, then,"she said as if that explained everything."I assume we met last Night ?"
"Sort of."
"Did we…"There was trepidation in her vocalism now."Did we have sex ?"
He grinned. There was no way he was passing up this opportunity.
"Baby, you rocked my world,"he said."Twice. Where'd you learn to do that thing with your tongue ?"
"What thing ?"
"That thing where you… Oh never mind, I'll display you later. beware if I join you ?"He jiggled his belt, making it sound as if he was pulling off his pants.
"No !"she said quickly."I'm naked !"
"That's the musical theme,'he said."Naked and wet. Just the way I like you sound. Just like last night. Man ! You were wet."

He thought he heard her whimper something about deity alien.
"Want me to go make coffee instead ?"he asked, taking shame on her.
"Yes,"she seized the opportunity."Please. chocolate. Why don't you take yours to go ?"
She was kicking him out ? After everything he'd done for her the late evening ?
"Now that's no way to verbalise to your new husband,"he said reprovingly.
He could hear her shock in the very silence.
"My what ?"
"Don't you recollect ?"Oh, he was enjoying this.
"My what ?"
"After we met up at the bar, we went to a jurist I know and got a special licence. He married us. He's a good guy, jurist Henderson. Owed me a favor after I got rid of a little problem for him a year ago."
"Please exit,"she begged, close to tears, if her spokesperson was anything to go by.
"Now, honeybun, I told you finis Night the garbage disposal fellowship I work for doesn't work over weekends. Where would I go ?"
She moaned, a pitiful sound that made him feel slightly guilty. There was a move behind the mantle and then her head poked out. She was holding the pall prudishly high to hide the respite of her.
"Please tell me you're joking,"she pleaded.

He let his secretiveness speak for itself, while he took her in. Her eyes were bloodshot, but that didn't do much to distract from their ravisher. Had he ever seen such big blue angel middle outside the porcelain-doll diligence ? Why hadn't he noticed that before ? He was standing close enough that he could see the water clinging against her long whiplash. Her nose was ok with the cutest argument, and her skin, though still slightly sallow from the previous evening, was perfect and unblemished.
He was stunned. She was beautiful. How the hell had he missed that ?
"This can't be happening,"she said.

His mentation exactly. He could not be noticing her beauty now. It was just his libido talking. He'd spent a restless eve tossing around coldly on her couch, getting ikon of her all mixed up with his librarian fantasies. That's what this was. His dick was desperate to win over him he was attracted to her so he would make his move. And she would fall for it, no doubtfulness about that. She was inexperienced and, by her own admission, desperate. If he turned on the spell, he would have her under him before the end of the day.
But he was n't that kind of a guy. The guy who sleep with young lady and leave them when they bore him. And bore him she inevitably would. She was too quiet, too shy, too damn librarian-ish to have got his attention for longsighted than it took him to come. He preferred women with igneous personalities and wad of experience in pleasuring her lover in bed. Emily would probably faint dead the offset time she saw him naked. And try to be prim and right, and not desire him to go down on her. Sex with her would induce to be after dark, a quick, awkward coupling under the covers. She wouldn't want to do any of the things he liked - no blowjobs, no cunnilingus. Definitely no role-play. It would be absolutely unfulfilling.

So why wouldn't his cock stop over trying to make happy-happy with her ?
"Don't worry,'he said, finally annoyed by himself and his thoughts and feelings."It's not. I'll go make deep brown. I'll even leave if you want me to."
She looked at him, blinking those big eyes of hers.
"No,"she said."stay. I'll be there in a few minutes."


She brushed her tooth and even her tongue for what felt like hours to no avail. The gustation of her humiliation sat as if the enamel on her teeth had absorbed it. She felt as if she was chewing on moss as far as she went. She twisted the towel around her head and drank the isobutylphenyl propionic acid side by side to her bed. routine and patch of the previous evening was filtering down to her. She had been at the library and Mrs Gunnings - bless her heart - had been talking about how Emily needed to find a nice young man to study care of her. Of how nice it was to go rest home and not spend the evening alone. Of how nice it was to go out and sustain somebody's bridge player in public. Of the pin-up man who'd swept her daughter right of her groundwork and now they were married with a little baby and how happy they were… she'd talked and talked until Emily was so depressed with her own lonely little lifetime that she decided to give up for a drink, rather than face her empty flat. As she sat there, she kept thinking of ways to come across somebody - clearly, her job was no service - and the thought had somehow taken root that people met other people in streak. When they were drunkard. So she'd ordered one drink after another, hoping she would magically become sexy and… and pretty and suitable. And somebody would magically mark her and capitulation magically in dear with her and they would magically live happily ever after.

Well, she thought almost bitterly as she got dressed in sweatpants and a plain black sweater that was lenient and a niggling slack after her latest, and to day of the month most successful, weight-loss plan. She considered shoes, but settled for her downy pinkish slider instead. So much for her brilliant theory. She had sat there for hour and hours on the most uncomfortable feces ever, drinking glass after glass of whiskey because she didn't know what else to ordination and was too shy to ask. And cypher - not even one man - had shown any pursuit in her. The only one who talked at her at all was the hot bartender, who…

The barkeeper ! Of course ! That's why the man had looked familiar to her in her bathroom. His feature film had been blurry without her eyeglasses, of course of instruction, but she was reasonably sure it was him. She was almost a one hundred percent certain of it. The only interrogation was… what was he doing in her apartment ?

"It's a prospicient report,"he said when she asked him later, in her kitchen, her hair wrapped up in a towel and perched on her head. His eyes followed her movements around the kitchen as she got milk from the fridge for the coffee berry and put bread in the toaster. The satire of the morning-after-nothing-happened breakfast didn't escape cock his notice.
"I have time,"she said carefully, closing the screen to avoid all possible root of visible radiation."pass me the quick version."

"Fine,"he said with a sigh."You were drunk, I helped you base. My keys are locked in my car and I couldn't get a cab to come get me. That's it, in a nutshell. And because I know you're still wondering, I spent the dark on your couch, shivering a little. Ok, shivering a lot. It was damn coldness. Plus I have a crink in my neck now."
She winced."I'm sorry. I wish you'd waken me up, I would at least have helped you with a blanket."
"I could have used your hairdryer to build a nuclear bomb right next to your bed and you wouldn't have woken up. You were out cold."
Another flinch.
"I'm really no-account,"she said."I don't know what came over me. I've never been that drunk before. I'm really not the type."

"I know,"he said, not bothering to hide his smile."You told me last night."
She chewed her bottom lip nervously. Brandon wanted to take that hot niggling task over for her. He imagined nibbling on those petal easygoing lips and cleared his throat a short.
"What else did I tell you ?"she wanted to know apprehensively.
"Well, you work in a library, and you can't lie even to telephone set salespeople."
"Is that all ?"
"Not by a long barb. By the way, what does technically stand for ?"
She frowned and cocked her head in a ‘ what do you mean ?'way."Technically ?"
"Yes. When is something technically and when is it… I don't know, untechnically ? Physically ? Literally ?"
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about,"she said and smeared a thin strip of margarine over her dry toast.

He cupped his hands around the plain white cup filled to the brim with coffee and leaned forward.
"Tell me,"he said conversationally, sadistically waiting for her to take a raciness of pledge."How does one persist a virgin, but only technically ?"
She started choking as he'd expected, coughing and wheezing and grabbing her coffee to help the dry bread down the right pipe.
"What ?"

"Apparently, if you were speaking the trueness live night which drunk people seem prone to do for some reason, you are technically still a virgin, but not in a physical signified. I was just wondering how that happens."
"I told you that ? Oh my… I'm so dingy !"
He laughed at the red flush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks.
"Relax,"he said."Its fine. I would just love to see that story. Because there has to be a story."
"Not really,"she muttered, and then, as an reconsideration,"I'm never drinking again."
"Wise words that has been spoken by many, many people over the years."
"I mean it,"she insisted."I honestly can't believe I told you that."
"Virginity is null to be ashamed of,"Brandon said, stroking one finger down her arm.
"It variety of is, when you're twenty nine."
He gaped."You're xx nine and you've never had sex ? How the the pits had that chance ?"
"I don't know, it just… happened,"she muttered."Or to a greater extent to the tip, it just never happened."
"There must be a reason,"he prompted.

"There isn't one particular reason, it's more like a series of non-sexual incidents, strung together by everything from dating sites to five-minute dating secret plan and to a greater extent blind appointment than I can count."
"I take it none of that worked for you ?"
"I met the most interesting mass. Like Mike, who was seventy two at the time, and told me he had a granddaughter fantasy he wanted to act out with me."
"He wanted you to pretend to be his granddaughter ?"
She shook her head."If only. I'm not sure how this would let played out since I didn't stick around to notice out, but I had to play the granddaddy. And he was one of the better options."
Brandon sat back, stunned."No way,"he said disbelievingly.

She nodded."I'm sober. After him was a serial of serial losers - men who couldn't hold on to jobs and little girl and had to borrow money from one loan shark to pay off the next. The type of Guy whose estimate of cleaning out the trailer means letting a cast dog in to lick the soil from the floor and to put all the porn in one box."
Oh, he was in inscrutable jack, Brandon thought as he roared with laughter. She had a sense of humour. There was, to his judgement, nothing sexier in a daughter than a sense of humour.
"And after them ?"

She frowned."I met this guy, his gens is Stanley, online. We went on a few date and it didn't go too bad, till his watchword officer contacted me to let me get laid he was back in jail for harassing little kids at a park."She winced."It was mussy. The police went through my house, looking for sign of kiddie-porn. Apparently he was voice of a child-prostitution and trafficking halo. I had no idea. I got off with a warning, since there was no grounds that I was involved, and he told them that I knew cipher. I suspect they still monitor my internet history ever once in a while."

Helpless laughter rocked through him. No admiration she was still a virgin, if these were the form of men she stumbled across during her search.
"What about luxuriously school ?"he asked."And college ?"
She looked down at her custody."I wasn't exactly Miss Popular in schoolhouse,"she said simply."I wasn't even that shy girl that nobody talks to take out when they need help with mathematics, because I sucked at mathematics. Still do, as a matter of fact. I didn't fit in with any of the detent. I was n't pretty and I was n't clever, and I didn't have any secret talents. The only affair I was serious at was reading, and I did a lot of that. But nobody makes champion in the shoal library, right ? Especially not if the young lady is embonpoint and have the fashion sense of a unreasoning nun."
"Now that character I can serve you with,"he said."Why don't I go shopping with you and help you pick out a few outfits that will make the, uh, right of your number ?"

She looked down at herself. True, she was wearing sweatpants, but they were new and still neat. And her sweater might be a bit too big after her diet, but it was of a adept stuff and had been expensive and it didn't lose shape in the wash. But his words made her look downright dowdy.

"Do you remember what I told you last night ?"he asked.
"I barely retrieve you, never mind anything you told me,"she said, stung.
He frowned a little and gazed at her with an intent look on his face that made her admiration if he could see more than what she revealed.
"You expressed the wish to ... how to put this delicately ? determine mortal to enjoy yourself with, but you were concerned that you don't have the right look and personality to attract men. I merely offered my advice to avail you if you wanted an target opinion."

"Oh,"she said, pushing her plate away from her with one finger.
Actually, what he'd promised was to help her learn to talk through one's hat it, but Brandon was strangely loath to smart her opinion by telling her that. She was female, after all, and would immediately conclude that he thought she wasn't sound enough or pretty enough, or didn't have what it takes to attract men like pismire to a sirup feeding bottle.
And that was just bull.
Even if he had had almost those exact same thoughts not twelve minute ago.

"Why are you being so nice to me ?"she asked after a few semi-akward second of silence.
He shrugged."Maybe I'm just a courteous guy."
"Men are never squeamish unless they have an agenda."
He winced."Ouch. True, but ouch."
She gave him a small smile."So what's your agenda ?"
getting in your gasp.
"Maybe I want program library privileges."
She snorted."Like what ?"
Showing you what the acknowledgment section should really be used for.
"Maybe I have a fine for a Christian Bible that's late. guess you can help me name it disappear ?"
Her smile was like the sunrise.
"Are you trying to bribe me ?"

He leaned forward with a grin."Maybe I am. Are you corruptible ?"
"Certainly not. I'm a good girl, you know."She was trying hard to look prudish and proper, and failing miserably. Her centre - those bluer-than-the-sky eyes of hers - were filled with laughter behind her reasonably glasses, despite the way she was pursing her lips and trying to look chastising.
"All right. So I'll have to pay the fine, then. How about this ? There's a book I want to read, but it's on a waiting list. I would love to be moved to the top of the list."
She pretended to think about it."That depends,"she decided."What book is it ?"

He couldn't helper it, couldn't resist the invitation their coquetry was issuing.
"The Art of Pleasuring Women,"he said, wondering if she would accept the unexpressed challenge.
She did, though her eyes widened slightly in scandalous provocation."Well, now,"she said, clearing her pharynx a little."I guess I can be convinced. Wouldn't want your girl to be dissatisfied by your prowess. It would be sad for the misfortunate fille if you didn't recognize how to… get things done. You might even say it's my civic duty to let you have the necessary instruction."
His pharynx was a little dry and he lifted his cup to his lips, surprised to bring in there wasn't another drop curtain."Yeah,"he said."training is important. Speaking of education, I think it's prison term for lesson one."
"lesson one in what ?"
He grinned."Making you irresistible."


Emily twisted her hair into a cartridge clip with a exercise front. Brandon had given her distich of time of day while he got a cab to direct him home and get his spare keys, promising to be back for her offset lesson. She felt awkward when he left, sure it would be the hold up time she saw him. She knew he thought her plain and uninteresting– he'd basically said it himself in so many parole - and he had absolutely no reason to waste his Saturday on her. She was surprised at the devastation she had felt when she stood at her windowpane, watching his cab pull off. He was the foremost man in a recollective time to be dainty to her. Not many bozo would go to the trouble he'd gone too to get her home safely. He'd looked after her as if they were protagonist, and this morn he'd joked with her and put her at easiness, making her forget about the humiliation of her alcohol-loosened tongue of the previous evening. For goodness'sake, she had told him she was still a virgin. Why on earth had she felt the need to plowshare that with him ? Now he would always remember her as that crazy girl who couldn't handle a few drink and had no mouthful in dress. He was nice, and talking to him had been very nice and seeing him again would be even nicer, but she was not naïve enough to believe he would be back. Still, she couldn't assist taking redundant tending when she dried her hair and did her war paint. The solvent was to a lesser extent than satisfactory, to her own heart. No issue what she did, she would be plain. zilch could alter that. She had never been pretty, nor would she ever be.

"And you'd best wee peace with it,"she muttered to her slightly depressed image in the mirror. She threw open her closet and looked at the piles of wearing apparel that had been arranged with military precision, according to people of color and styles.
It was a bit sad, watching her cupboard. Most of what she owned was either tweed or ecru or emollient, or any variation of that. There were inkiness and United States Navy blues, and a few brown and greys. Some dowdy shades of maroon and a mourning, drab purple, but that was it.

Was this really what her life had whittled down to ? Her job was going nowhere, fast, she had no relationships outside her headspring, and her wardrobe looked like she let her grandmother do her shopping. Why on earth had she bought that grey and brown coat hanging in the back ? It was horrifying. It was hideous, even if it was made of the finest wool she'd ever touched.

Emily pulled it off the hanger and dumped it on the bed unceremoniously. She grabbed another crownwork, a few doll she was ashamed to say she'd worn Thomas More than twice. The cumulus on her bed piled highschool as she emptied her press almost completely. She was feeling slightly phrenetic by the time she was done with the coats and jackets and started on slacks and trouser. Had she been blind her entire life story, to tire out this ?
"What are you doing ?"a voice suddenly said, disturbing her. Emily dropped a washed-out charcoal blouse on the floor in surprise. Her sort-of supporter and downstairs neighbour was staring at the bed, which was covered with wearing apparel, with an construction of repulsion. She must have used the save key Emily had left with her, because Emily had locked the door behind Brandon. Usually Judith knocked, but Emily hadn't heard anything.
"You !"said Emily accusingly, bending down to pick up the shirt and holding it out in presence of her."I blame you !"
"For what ?"Judith asked, clearly not certainly what to expect.
"This is partly your fault,"Emily scolded, shaking and accusing finger at Judith."How could you let me wear this crap ? In public ?"

Judith stared at the bed, her mouth working a little as she processed the situation.
"I thought you liked it."
"You should make told me I look about ninety ! What variety of friend are you ?"
"Em, you always look neat. I thought…"
"Neat ! I looked neat. And how many guys want to have sex with neatness, I ask you ?"
"Uhm…"Book of Judith cleared her throat."Clearly, not as many as you'd like."
Emily threw another armful of blouses - a mustardy floral, a khaki-with-frills and a navy box cervix that looked like the unseasonable end of the mid-fifties - on the bed.
"None, that's how many,"she said grimly."How am I supposed to get individual to marry if I can't even find a man to have sex with me ? What's amiss with me ?"
"There is not a matter incorrect with you,"Book of Judith said immediately and loyally."You just… entreaty to a unlike demographic than the men you meet."
"Yeah,"Emily muttered."The men at the senior citizen really enjoy chatting to me on subroutine library Tuesday. They show up by the busloads to get along see me."

Judith stifled a laughter."Why are you taking all of your clothes out of your press ?"
Emily sank down on her pearl and glanced at the pile of atrocious fabric and styles.
"I'm getting rid of it,"she said darkly."All of it. And I'm going to buy new things. Pretty things. Colour, Judith, I need coloration. Pink and park and yellow. Red ! I don't even have a red dress. Why don't I have a hot red dress ?"

"Red's really not your colour,"Judith said."Or yellow, to be honest. You need to last out away from red and yellowness, and definitely no orange."
"See ? Why haven't you told me this before ? Look at me, Book of Judith, I'm a mess."
Judith sat down next to her."I guess you always seem so content, so at peace with your life. I used to begrudge you that. I'm the most unstable person I know, and you just never cared what the great unwashed thought about you. I had no idea you were dissatisfied. I'm sorry I let you wear ugly clothes."
Emily gave a minor laugh and glanced at the void hangers in the loo. There were two coating that had passed her mental testing ; a truly dateless black cashmere and a really warm, snow-white white one she'd bought on sale but hadn't worn yet because it would get colly the bit she ventured out of her bedroom.
"It's ok. It's not your fault. I should have realised I need help long before now."
"What brought this on ?"Judith asked, picking up the mustard shirt looking at it shrewdly."This would throw an first-class floor rag, by the way."

Emily laughed slightly."Nothing brought it on. I'm just… I'm tired of being part of the scenery in my own aliveness, you know ? When is it my turn to bear some fun ? I've been waiting so patiently for my life to begin, and search where it's brought me. I'm twenty nine, I've never had sex, and I'm too scared to speculation outside this quilt zone I've been digging for myself with serviceable vesture and comfortable shoes and not enough friends."
"Your shoe are really ugly,"Book of Judith said, honestly."And I promise I'll tell you from now on if you wear something that doesn't work."
Emily looked at her nearly void cupboard."Thanks,"she said."I guess I'll take this poppycock to the Salvation Army, if they want it."

"Let me help with that,"Judith said."I have a car, so it'll be much easier for me. I know a great homeless shelter that needs donations desperately."
"I'd appreciate that,"Emily said."Why did you come here today ? Did they drop off my mail off in your box again ?"
"No, I wanted to ask about that really hot guy I saw coming out of your apartment a while ago. Was he the cable resort man or something ?"

"No,"Emily said, blushing a little."He… actually, he spent the night here. On my sofa,"she added quickly."Nothing happened. I was so drunk he had to bring me home from the bar."
Judith's eyes widened."But you never drink,"she said.
"I did last-place night."
"Never nous that, then. Oh my Christian Bible, Emily, you let a stranger sleep over at your house ? And you didn't jump him ?"

"He wasn't interested in being jumped,"Emily said."He's just… a nice guy I'm never going to see again."
Judith chewed the inside of her lip."Leave this stuff,"she said,"and bring your credit rating posting. We're going to go shopping."

Brandon paced the hallway outside Emily's apartment. He'd been there for an minute and she still was n't opening the room access. She was either avoiding him on intent, or incapable of answering the damn campana, or, virtually probably, not home.
Which just plain pissed him off. Hadn't he told her he would be back ? She had no business being out when he wanted to see her !

He kept walking, following the generic grey carpeting with the navy figure with his center. This was ridiculous. He should be at home, watching sport or having an afternoon nap. He should not be pacing around, waiting for Emily to evidence up. What was he, a horny adolescent who mistakes luxuria for making love ?

He forced himself to depart after another half hour. No girl was worth waiting for like this. It was pathetic and sad and told him, more than than anything else, how much he needed to get laid. These… feelings he seemed to take caught, were like a disease. Or a virus. And the best remedy for unwanted impression is a right demode boinkfest. He knew plenty of girls who would be to a greater extent than happy to oblige. It was just such a pathos he was n't interested in anybody except Emily.
Brandon scowled.

"Are you sure about the apparel ?"Emily asked for the third time, loading the stopping point of the shopping bags into Book of Judith's car. They'd spent almost five time of day straight in the shops, with Judith dragging her from the one workshop to the next, picking out wearing apparel and smelling discounts from miles away. Her arms were sore from carrying the bag around, and her deferred payment carte du jour had given up screaming in nuisance ten purchases ago. Instead, she imagined it making humble little whimpers as it lay in her billfold, trying to curl itself up against the agony and straining she'd put it through.

But oh, she loved the clothes ! The colour - Emily had never thought there were so many shades of pink, or that she could look so good in pastel and shining semblance alike. For the first metre in old age, she didn't feel dowdy. She felt pretty, since Judith had made her go to a bathroom and change from frumpy and dumpy to smart and sexy. She was wearing a short bird, teetering around on high-heeled boots that could not possible be near for her insteps. She felt deliciously slutty, even though the skirt was n't that short. But the tight grim jumper she wore with it dipped low enough to take a crap men take on a back look, and the jacket she had on over it was hot-pink and attention grabbing. Added to that the new jewellery and a sexy picayune scarf joint, and she felt like a million dollars.

Judith didn't need to ask what dress she was talking about. It was a slinky mordant identification number with very flattering, very seductive stock. It was shorter than sin, and with the good bra, would evince off more cleavage than a centrefold Corinthian Bunny. It was completely backless and basically said, ‘ take aim me to bed and rupture me off her body.'
"I'm sure,"she said."Em, you look so hot in that wearing apparel, even I wanted to jump you in the fitting way. Brandon's gon na eat his center out."
"I don't want Brandon to eat his essence out,"Emily muttered, but she grinned a little."I wouldn't mind him eating something else out, though."
Judith gasped in shock."Why, Emily Brown, '' she said."You're positively slutty !"
"What,"Emily said defensively,"just because I'm a Virgo, I need to be victorian ?"
"I created a monster,"Judith said, shaking her head as she backed out.

Brandon couldn't point scowling as he rolled out of bed the next dawning. It was still snowing outside, and he had spent the entire even stomping around in his house. That bloody librarian had him all tied up. He was angry, and horny, and annoyed all at the same clip. After waiting around for three hours outside her apartment the previous day, he'd gone home, only to keep thinking about her. And now it was Sunday, and it was still snowing, and he was damned if he would spend another day frustrated as snake pit.
The dame needed lessons, and he was damned well going to be the one to teach them to her.
Starting today.

Emily brushed her haircloth, marvelling at the legerity of the layered and highlighted strands. The swelling on her supercilium had finally gone down, after the waxing and tinting she'd agreed to the previous day. And the new eyeliner made all the divergence in the world. She experimented at leisure with the new make-up Judith had helped her choose, and loving the rig she had decided on that dawning - a twain of surprisingly comfortable jeans with the boots of the previous day, an amethyst-colour sweater that hugged her physical structure and showed off the curve she had always kept hidden for some reason. She fixed the silver ring in her spike and wondered how she was going to settle the measure on her credit rating card. She almost had more debt now than right field after she finished her degree at the university.

But oh, it was worth every cent. Every time she opened her cupboard threshold and saw the cornucopia of people of colour adorning her pretty white ledge, she wanted to hug herself and trip the light fantastic toe a short jig. She had the weirdest urge to grab her hairbrush and sing along to the amalgamate CD she was listening to while she got dressed, but she figured it was unacceptable behaviour to anybody over the age of oh, say, fourteen.

But then she got a what-the-hell tactual sensation and grabbed her brush. She might have missed out on the dance-like-you're a teenager stage when she actually was a teenager, but there was no reason not to watch up on that now, was there ? She spun around her room, ignoring the undo bed and singing along to the newest teen-sensation swooning about a boy and what he did to her.

"And you make me want you like a grown-up…"she crooned along to the Singer.
Emily could relate. She had never been passionate, to say the least. She had a vibrator in her bedside table, and she used it occasionally, but she suspected there was something wrong with her that she didn't revel it much. It made her feel wretched, the way she'd felt at xxv when she finally decided to end her pair of virginals status on her own, if she couldn't get a man to help her with the pestiferous short task. She cried when she broke through the barrier, so lonely and depressed that she just took out the vibrator - a pretty pink one with different mise en scene - and went to go fresh up in the lav. There had been no pleasure, none of the ecstasy she'd read about in books and seen in movies. It had felt humiliating and like giving up, and she had hated herself for it.

She tried using the vibrator again, and after a few meter she actually had an orgasm. Which was great while it lasted, but afterwards she felt stupid and tainted and like such a loser. She still used it occasionally, though the orgasms seemed to be getting smaller every time. Maybe she was getting too old to enjoy sex. Maybe her body was tricked into thinking it was clock time to go through menopause, since it wasn't being used the way nature intended for it to be used. And she had never, with one exception, looked at a man and gotten turned on. Men were from blemish, and she didn't speak Martian. She was tongue tied and avoided them like a second-grade girlfriend, at the Saame time wishing one of them would just look at her once, fall head over bounder and cajole her out of her shell. But Brandon… Brandon made her deficiency him in a way she had never thought it was possible to want mortal. Maybe it was because he was the first of all man to guide the time to verbalise to her, or maybe it was because he'd hit her at a vulnerable degree with that grin of his, but when she had looked out of her shower to see him standing there, she'd felt the heat low in her belly, unfurling and moving to her nether area. He was hot. He made her want things, like one-night stands and forgetful crack and au naturel dead body writhing together.

He made her smell like a women, even if he was n't interested.
And that was more pathetic than anything else.

Her bell rang, several times shortly after each other, indicating botheration on the other slope of the door. It was probably Book of Judith, so she slicked one end pelage of gloss over her sass and headed to the sitting room, eager to evince her acquaintance what she looked like. Only it was n't Judith.
It was Brandon.

Brandon swallowed once. Was he at the incorrect flat ? Because there was a really, really hot little girl standing where he had expected to see Emily. And maybe his cock was finally set to get down and begrime with somebody else, because it was stirring subtly, reminding Brandon that he hadn't had sex in about five months. At least not with somebody else in the elbow room.
"Hey,"the girl said. Brandon's eyes were glued to the plump, glossy lips the people of color of ripe cherry tree and he swallowed convulsively.

She was wearing Emily's trash, and she was standing in Emily's doorway, but there was no way Emily could be wearing clothes that made him want to take her right there, against the wall in the hallway.
"Hi,"he croaked, feeling as if he was in high school day again and trying to peach to pretty girl who owned the footlocker next to his. All incoherent and inept. The passably girl cleared her pharynx and gave a whole step back."Would you like to fall inside ?"
"Sure,'he said, but he couldn't seem to move. It felt as if the connection between his base and his mastermind had been severed ( best hypothesis put the cut-off point somewhere near his bulwark ) and he was ineffective to do anything but stare.

At her breast. Those previously thought plain, nondescript chest. They were perfect. Not too big, not too belittled. full moon and luxuriously, soft and plump. He itched to have them in his hands and do something - anything - with them. To them. On them. For them.

"Brandon ?"
Her voice sounded like it had been made to say his name, preferably in different tones of Passion of Christ. He could opine her crying it out as the climax hit her, and he swallowed again, trying to force his brainiac to get rid of the lust-driven haze so he could function like a rule homo being.
"Sorry,"he said quickly."You look…"
"Different ?"she guessed and looked down at the soft, form-fitting sweater that made her cutis seem all healthy and glowy and… stuff. Or something.
"Really beautiful,"he amended."Really, really beautiful."
"Thanks,"she said, glancing down uncomfortably, reminding him that she was a very shy girl, despite the fact that she set ardor to his fantasy.

"Where did you disappear to yesterday ?"he asked when the awkward silence stretched out too long.
She smiled, a surprised, delighted smile that brought forth a little dimple he hadn't noticed before.
"You came back,"she said."I didn't think you would."
He just looked at her."I said I would,"he said quietly."Why didn't you believe me ?"
She blushed, and damn if it was n't precious."Well, I didn't think I would see you again. I know I'm not the variety of girlfriend men comes back to, especially not men like you."
"Men like me ?"

"I know what I am and what I am not ; you don't need to pretend anything to spare my feelings. But anyway, I went shopping. For wearing apparel. With my friend Judith."
"I'm glad you went shopping,"he said."But to come back to the men like me remark…"
"Hot men,"she muttered, shamefacedly."But like I said, I know what I see in the mirror so you don't have to act to be attracted to me or whatever. I won't blame you if you don't want me, or don't want to avail me. Only…"she paused for a moment."Just don't shame me, okay ? I don't need anybody's ruth. I'm fine with who I am."

Brandon didn't think ; he simply acted. He gave one step and then he was bang up against her. He twisted their bodies skilfully so that her back was pressed against the doorway. He didn't take the time he'd imagined he would when he cupped her cheek between his decoration, took off her glasses and dropped it on the base behind her, bent his head, and kissed her.

It was an electric thing, the kiss. Their lips were barely touching, and there was not enough atmospheric pressure to live up to him, but it still sent chills racing up and down his body. He rubbed his mouth over hers, getting some of that cherry-red gloss on his own backtalk and not minding one bit. He sucked her bottom lip between his and enjoyed her surprised little gasp. He licked over that easy skin on the inside of her lip and then nibbled lightly with his teeth. He pulled back, stretching her lip a little before letting go. He didn't move away ; not yet. Instead, he pressed a chaste kiss on the one recess of her oral fissure, and another on the other English. She smelled grotesque. No heavy, seductive perfume that made him want to sneeze and drink allergy medicine. She carried the scent of her innocence, and it smelled like some light kind of flower. clean, and unused, and young, like a rose covered with too soon dawning dew, and could he possibly get any platitudinous ? If he didn't stop thinking, he was going to go spouting poesy soon.

So he stopped thinking and touched her lips again, a bit firmer this time, just to remind her who was in guardianship. He felt the lifelike softness that indicated her femininity, felt the way they gave and moulded under his, shaping around his in a warm, strangely familiar way. He touched his clapper to the Amor's bow, following the line of her sassing with the tip of his tongue, knowing that it would intoxicate her as much as it did him. When he reached the plump rump lip, he slipped his knife to smack the line of her unsympathetic mouth, sliding it first in one centering and then the next. He pressed lightly, asking her wordlessly for permit, for approach. She softened her lips further and he slid his tongue in a little foster.

Her penchant blossomed and he groaned as it assaulted his sentiency. He couldn't hold to taste the residuum of her, to taste all of her. He could feel his breathing picking up f number as he explored her oral cavity relentlessly. Her weaponry slipped around his neck and she rose on her toes to urge on herself nigh to him. He could experience and preference and mother wit her inexperience in her faltering. She was a little bit clumsy, and it was endearingly odorous to him, knowing that this girl-woman trusted him enough to let him osculate her like this.

He deepened the kiss, one of his hired man sliding achingly slowly down her back to compact her against him even more. He wanted to move his hired hand to the more matter to terrain of her movement, but he was oddly content just to harbor her like this while he taught her more about the art of kissing with infinite forbearance. He pressed a petty harder, hungry for just a little more, and coaxed her glossa from her mouth with his own. She didn't understand what he wanted, and he knew she was confused by the alteration in the angle of his oral cavity as it slanted over hers.

"Give me your spit,'he whispered hoarsely against her lips.
"What ?"she asked dazedly.
"Your knife,"he said again, moving his helping hand lower to cup her deliciously soft target in his decoration. She was all womanly curved shape - firm, but not overly muscled, like too many women present who spent more than meter in a gym than at home. She felt so different from him, and he revelled in the way their body fit together, hard against gentle, muscularity against curve ball. She was n't fat, not even chubby, but she wasn't a wedge figure either.
She was so… absolutely… perfect.
"My tongue ?"she said, sounding a little squeaky.
"Yes, Emily. drop away it in mouth."
There was a bit of silence, and then she asked,"why ?"

"I want to show you something delicious,"he said, and instead of the pity he might have expected when he realised that she had never done this, he only felt a primal, primitive male pride to be the one to teach her, to show her.

He felt her warm little tongue pressing hesitatingly against his lips and opened them, sucking it firmly inside his oral cavity.
"Oh my,"she gasped - or tried to, anyway - and he grinned a niggling in pure satisfaction.
"commodity, huh ?"he asked after he let go.
"Uhm,"she muttered.
"want to do it again ?"

"Uhm,"she managed again. He slanted his mouth over hers and lapped at her tongue again, this time drawing it into his mouth. He suckled, unvoiced, and she made a small, lost little sound as both his bridge player started kneading her ass, covered with the clay material of new jean. He pressed her physical structure harder against the door physical body, desperate to stimulate Sir Thomas More of her. The kiss became pressing, and he realised the exact consequence she stopped worrying about what to do and just let her organic structure react, because suddenly it was even more than perfect ; her lips moving with his, her tongue coming together and thrusting against his, tasting and tactual sensation and exploring. The sound they were generating were brassy in the hush of the hall - her moans, his moan, her suspiration, his murmurs. Her speed up breathing, his satisfied growls when she tested and tried something new, something that worked. They kept at it for a few more minutes - it might suffer been hours for, all he knew - and he dragged one paw up and into her hair.

"Ouch,"she gasped, and the fog lifted a piddling from his mentality, enough to take in his psyche for a few seconds, sufficiency to gain him realise that he was mauling her in the hallway.
"What ?"he asked, and this meter he was the one who felt dazed.
"zero,"she said quickly."Just my head teacher, against the doorframe. Please, continue with what you were doing. Don't let me disrupt you…"

He laughed a little and pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed tightly as he tried to get a travelling bag over his hormones. His peter was rock-hard by now, straining against the fly of his dungaree. He wanted her so badly, wanted to sink into the fogginess that was Emily, the gentleness of her embracement. Wanted to teach her everything he knew about lovemaking, demonstrating over and over until she knew exactly what was the best way to fit tab B into time slot A.

But she was new, and innocent, and as appealing as the idea was, the modest parting of his judgement that was still capable of intellectual thought knew that taking her right hand now, braced against the door was not only incredibly dazed ( due to the whole public facial expression of the milieu ) but also extremely selfish. She deserved to be taken slowly, gently, preferably with individual who would get the clip to show her everything she needed to know. And also, a bed would be nice.

"Just give me a minute,"he said, taking deep breaths.
"No ! No, no, no ! Don't take a minute ; you're going to deepen your intellect if you do !"
He laughed again."Not bloody likely,"he said."Just… just hold on a bit, okay ?"
"O.K.,"she murmured, circling her weapon system around his consistency and leaning against him. Her soft fuzz tickled his chin as she tucked her head in the crook of his cervix. He pulled her inside the apartment and closed the door behind them, almost stepping on her glasses in the summons. He picked them up and put them on a little table in the recession, and then turned to take care at her.

She was standing with her hands folded in front of her, head bent down so that he couldn't see her brass.
She was radiating shyness, and dubiety, and just a small bit rejection. Tenderness swirled in him again and he stepped closer to her, allowing himself one western fence lizard, hard kiss.
"Look at me,"he said. She lifted her head slowly and he smiled at her.
"You're beautiful,"he said."don't even think of arguing with me, not even in your mind. Especially not in your mind. I won't have anybody, least of all you, guess otherwise. I won't put up with that. You are lovely, and I want you so much it aches. But I want to do what's right."

"What would that be ?"she whispered, and he cupped her neck opening, his flip playing in the holler of her throat.
"I don't know,"he admitted ruefully."Right now I just want to take you to bed, so my sound judgement is a little cloudy."
"Do it,"she said."Please, Brandon. shoot me to bed. I'm so tired of wondering, of not knowing what sex is like. I want… I want to do it, and I want to learn."She was quiet for a second base."I want to feel."

He searched her eyes."Your first base clip should be with soul especial,"he objected, knowing that he wouldn't leave unless she asked him to. Knowing exactly what would happen if he stayed. His beautiful, shy little librarian was about to ask him to make lovemaking to her, and he was powerless to deny her anything, least of all what she was offering. He was human being, and male, after all.

Emily looked at him with her heart in his center."You are special,'she said after a few mo."You make me experience wanted. Wanton. You make me want to take you to the library and do something in the non-fiction surgical incision where cipher ever goes."

He laughed, a raw auditory sensation that was being torn from him as his throat closed up. Had he really thought she would be unresponsive and boring ?
"You have to be certain,"he said."I'm not doing this if you're not sure.
"I was sure the first time I saw you. I didn't know what to say except, ‘ a glass of whiskey, delight ’."
"I've never seen a woman drink whiskey like you did before,'he said with a little smile."You just sat there, sipping glass after Methedrine of Jameson without making a face, though I'm pretty sure you thought it was disgusting."

"I hated it,"she admitted."But I didn't know what else to order, and I was too shy to ask your advice."
He made a vow to himself to take her rachis to the bar one evening and let her have a sip of every single drinkable he had in stock, until she found something she likes. And then he would mix some cocktails, and teach her about shaken and stirred, and she would never birth to drink in whisky alone in a bar again.

He kissed her then, a sweetness candy kiss that wasn't about passion as very much as compassion. He had tactile sensation for her. They were undeveloped yet, but he was n't about to deny their existence like some footloose knight bachelor, afraid of commitment. He didn't know if it was the right field affair, making beloved to her without giving her the chance to get to cognize him intimately, but he knew that he could no more let her go right now than he could cut off his own arm. So he stroked her whisker, marvelling at the satiny look as his lips taught her a few more arcanum and his lingua tasted her again. He slid the fibril through his fingers and pulled her straits back to try out the hide on her neck.

She tipped her chief willingly, giving him ameliorate access code. He teased her earlobe, nibbling lightly and flicking it with his spit before sucking it into his sassing. The ash gray hoop she was wearing was in his way, so he used his digit to get rid of it. He tickled the sensitive area behind her earlobe and tasted the dryness of fragrance she had dabbed there. It was bitter, and though it smelled like Shangri-la, he wanted to taste Emily, so he traced a bloodline down her neck and across her clavicle, following the descent of an imaginary necklace with his tongue, until the last of the perfume had rubbed off on her tegument and all he could smack was Emily. Henry Sweet and unique and still a petty bit scared.

He explored the hollow between her collarbone, taking his sentence over it. Her skin was like satin - smooth, silky, and so completely feminine. She moaned, a small sound in the back of her pharynx as she leaned helplessly against him, her hands around his head and her fingerbreadth tangled in his hair. She pulled at his header and he went willingly back to her oral cavity, to kiss and mouthful and take.
He was never going to get plenty of her mouth, he though as he toyed with her lips and let her do the Lapp to him.

She stepped away for a second and crossed her coat of arms in front of her, pulling her jumper over her head in one smooth relocation. Brandon felt his breath collar in her throat when she stood in front of him in only her flimsy white chemise-like top and a lacy white bra that pushed her chest together in the most perfect way imaginable. He stopped her manus when she wanted to take the top off and slid his hands over her body reverently. She was so warm, but despite the warmth in the room her mammilla were hard, beaded slight gist, straining against the honeyed fabric of her dilute top.

He pulled one strap over her shoulder and tasted the peel he unveiled before reaching down and getting rid of the blasted thing completely. And then his mitt were in the skin of her softly rounded, perfectly proportioned hips, and her skin was softer and smoother than the silk of the top that had fluttered to the dry land and was now lying there, like a pool of sex, on the floor. Brandon looked her in the eyes, and she gazed back unflinchingly, despite the blush that stained her cheeks a delicious shade of pink. He breast were spilling a little over the lace edge of her bra, something that the designer had undoubtedly taken gravid nisus to fulfil. It was like ... froth, he decided as he traced the bound of the cloth. Or the white foam on top of a Wave as it rolled to shore.

He reached behind her, holding her gaze as he undid the grasp of her bra, the motility bringing their body together. She made a small strait when he stepped back deliberately and let the bra join the former wearing apparel on the level.

"You are so lovely,"he said, gazing at her soundbox. She was so completely distaff, so gloriously, radiantly beautiful, and he couldn't believe she was standing there, allowing him to profane her purity. He cupped one of her bosom, savour the way it spilled over his palm just a little. The tip was pallid garden pink, like a very young rose just ready to bud undefended. He weighed a breast in each hand and was fascinated by the sissiness and fullness. His ovolo skated over the backsheesh until they were even harder. He wanted to raven her, but this first base prison term was not for him. It was for her, to sense and study, and experience. To realize, to know, and to enjoy.

"Oh,"she gasped when he bent down and took one nipple into his sass. Just for a second did he allow himself to be selfish and suckle on it, but then he pulled back and pressed a kiss rightfield in the middle of her cleavage. She moaned a short and moved restlessly, but he didn't relent. He kissed all over her chest, spiralling teasingly toward the nipple, knowing it would drive her loony. He rubbed his cheek over the sensitive nub, abrading it lightly with his stubble-roughened peel and laving it unexpectedly with his lingua. He nipped lightly with his dentition, and she moaned again, slightly louder this metre as he took his time nibbling it.

"Do what you did again,"she begged him breathlessly.
"And what was that ?"he asked, teasing her by drawing his tongue round her nipple without touching it.
"What you did before,"she said incoherently.
"This ?"he asked, licking over it once with his tongue flat.
"No,"she said, her question thrown back and her eye closed.
"This, then ?"he wanted to recognise, flicking it quickly.
"No ! you know what I mean !"
He took pity on her."Is this what you want ?"he asked, drawing her into his mouth and suckling severely and sure, playing with his tongue around the tip as he did so.
"Oh, yes,"she moaned ; a yearn, drawn out sound that grabbed at his ascendency.

He picked the pace up after that, forgoing the torture on her other breast and going straight for the good part, sucking the nipple relentlessly until she let go of his hair and put her hand behind her own read/write head, increasing both her exposure and her pleasure as she arched her body into his hands and mouth.

She felt something hit the backrest of her knees and opened her eyes, surprised to find that he had carried her into her sleeping accommodation without her noticing it. She was lost in sensations as his mouth travelled across her skin, insistently licking and pick, stopping every now and then to search some new situation he wanted to get to acknowledge intimately.

She heard him unzipping her pant and lifted her body instinctively to help him get rid of it.
"Brandon,"she sighed when she was laying naked except for her step-in - pretty white lacing that matched the bra she had been wearing - on her bed, and Brandon was kneeling at the metrical foot of the bed, trying to get rid of her shoes so he could undress her completely.
"Yeah ?"His voice was strained with the effort of holding back his Passion.
"seed up here for a second,"she whispered. He got rid of her brake shoe and when he had pulled off her jeans he leaned over her, bracing himself on one knee and both arms immediately.

"Everything okay ?"he asked gently, his face showing no sign of the storm raging inside him. He wanted to rush, wanted to speed, wanted to burry himself in her body, but he was determined not to. This was for her. For Emily. He would have metre later to evince her unbridled passion. But right now he wanted her to have the most perfect first time any girl has ever had, anywhere.
"It's perfect,"she smiled up at him, her hair flaring out over her pillows.
"This is a lot better than the last time I undressed you,"he said, grinning.
"What lowest sentence ?"
"Well, you were fairly drunkard, so I'm not surprised you don't remember,"he said, tracing a pattern on her breast with his fingerbreadth ; lazy circles and frame that made her archway a little."I only took off your coat and your shoes,"he added."Like I said. This is much better."

She laughed a short."I'm still sorry you spent the night on the couch."
"Yeah,"he said."You're going to demand to get a bigger redact if I'm going to spend the dark again."
She licked over her lips, a small gesture he recognised by now as a signal of nerves, so he waited for her to verbalize, trying to ignore the throbbing in his cock.
"Why don't you just use the bed next time ?"she asked tentatively."If you want there to be a next time, that is. I don't want you to feel I expect anything, or that I presume this, right here, right now, that it means I…"
He cut her off."What are you talking about, woman ?"he asked, but he thought he knew, and he didn't like the direction of her thoughts.

"I don't want you to think I expect the fact that you're making dearest to me means I will expect to a greater extent than just that,"she said carefully."I'm not naïve enough to think this means happy-ever-after."
"O.K.,"he said."With that cleared up, can we go back to the love-making ?"
"By all means,'she said. He kissed her then, letting her taste a bit of his anger because, damn her, had the thought ever crossed her brain that he might require Sir Thomas More ? That once might not be enough for him ?

She sank back into the downy duvet, her subdivision around him pulling him down with her. She pressed her breast against his upper berth dead body. He moaned at the flavour of her defenseless body against his clad one, especially when she rubbed herself against him.
"You're overdressed,"she said and he gave a barque of laughter, hurrying to relieve just that. He was out of his shirt in criminal record time, and she leaned up to watch as he struggled a little with his jeans. Getting it past his raging erection was a soft operation, but he managed not to injure himself.

"Let me,"she said when the jean was around his mortise joint and he started on his Negroid pugilist Jockey shorts.
She scooted closer to him, dressed only in her lacy white panties, the odour of her arousal wafting through the air.
She was very careful when she slid one helping hand into the waistcloth and pulled it away from his body and down. It kept getting stuck on his cock, so she used her early hired man to arrest his cock out of the way. They both gasped when her finger's breadth touched him. Finally the shorts was around his ankles, so he kicked it and the jeans off and out of the way.

She stared at his prick for a few seconds, her hand hovering as if she wanted to adjoin it.
“'Can I …"she indicated and he nodded, his throat dry. She touched one finger to his shaft, running it up and down his thick length.
"It's so backbreaking,"she said, marvelling."and at the same time, it's so cushy. Why is that ?"
He moaned something in response as she made a clenched fist around him, testing the thickness and pressing lightly.
"Harder,"he gasped. She did just that, and he groaned. Emily yanked her hand away.
"Did I hurt you ?"she asked, wide-eyed."I'm sorry ! I've never, you know, seen one. In real life. Tell me what to do."

"Later,"he gasped and pressed her down on the bed, kissing her senseless as he roamed over her soundbox with one hand."I'll let you do whatever you want later. But now I want to show you… do you trust me ?"
She blinked up at him.
"Yes,"she said, and the simple Christian Bible tore through his shoemaker's last resistor. He kissed her with all the passion he'd been holding back, letting her know how much he wanted this, wanted her as he slid one hand down and into her panties.

"You're shaved,"he said, surprised.
"When I was in my early twenties, I went for permanent hair removal,"she said."Each fourth dimension I tried shaving, I wound up cutting myself, so I just decided, screw that. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry,"he said as he stroked his finger over her hairless hillock, testing the fogginess of her skin before dipping lower.
And then he groaned as his finger's breadth was instantly coated in wetness. She was soaking.

She moaned at the unfamiliarity of having somebody else's finger inside her. He explored the lips, the petals, her clit, before dipping his fingertip inside her and dabbling a petty while he kissed her again. She opened her wooden leg wider instinctively, unaware of the eroticism of the motility. He rushed a little as he pulled her panties off and threw them over his shoulder. He knelt between her legs, spreading her knees further as he wedged his shoulders between her thighs.

"Emily, may I go down on you ?"he asked formally. Just to be sure.
"You mean… you want to… Yes, all rightfield. You don't have to, though."
"It's not ‘ have to'as much as ‘ want to ’,"he said."I want to taste you."
"fountainhead, don't let me lay off you,'she said, still a little shy.

He used the fingerbreadth of one helping hand to propagate her lips and the halfway finger of his former hand to dibble inside her again, coating his finger in her juice and spreading it around her pussy. She wriggled a picayune and gave a small moan. Brandon knew he was n't going to lastly a inferno of a lot prospicient, and he needed to get her off so he could get off. So he honed in on her clit with his finger, rubbing it fast and light, and then hard, and then in tight slight round, trying to find out what she liked best.

Emily closed her eyes and fisted her deal in the continental quilt as Brandon's fingerbreadth did things to her nobody else has ever done. She gave a gasp when he hit just the flop topographic point, and he must have noticed, because he focused on it then, rubbing and tapping at it. A unusual motive was building inside her. She knew what sexual climax smell like - and it was goose egg like this. This was an importunity she couldn't stop consonant, a tidal wave rising from every nerve-end in her body.

"Brandon,"she gasped, clawing at his back to get him to bar. There was something damage with her ; this was n't normal. But he didn't seem to actualize her urgency, because then, oh mercy, his mouth was on her pussycat, and he was sucking first the one lip and then the other into his sassing before getting to her clit. He moaned a fiddling and muttered something about how commodity she tasted, but Emily was still fighting the feelings building up inside her and didn't respond beyond piddling whimper sound as she tried to get away from the sensations the way an inexperienced bather tries to scarper an enormous wave. Brandon growled and flicked his clapper over her clit for a 2d, before rubbing it hard with his glossa. He nibbled lightly and sop up it into his mouth, suckling like he did on her nipple.

"Let go,"he whispered against her, his breath warm on her wet tegument."hitch fighting it and let go, Emily."
She cried out loudly, her back bowing and her articulatio coxae thrusting as she rode his facial expression, her hands drawing his head closer. The coming broke over her ; a tidal waving that wreaked havoc with her neural system and set every brass ending on fire. It just lasted and lasted, one wave after another cresting through her body as she came, again and again and again.

Brandon growled as he lapped at her, and she realised dimly that he was licking up her juices. His hands were on her hips, holding her down as she bucked.
She floated back and was limp while he gave her a few seconds to adjust. She couldn't spread her eyes, could barely breath, but she welcomed the look of his warm dead body sinking down on hers. It was unfamiliar, the weighting of somebody else on top of her, but she loved the impression and even if she had wanted to, she couldn't have pushed him off. Her consistence still twitched every few seconds from the intensity level of her orgasm.
He settled between her legs and she could feel the hard length of his cock against her.
"Condom,"she managed, but he kissed her on the sass. Shoe could still try herself on his lips and it was surprisingly erotic.

"Taken upkeep of,"he said, his voice strained."Are you ready, honey ?"
"Yes,"she whispered.
"I don't want to suffer you,"he said."And since you no longer have a hymen, it shouldn't be too painful. But it will still feel strange. I'll go as slowly as I can, but I'm not going to go very long."
"I'm not scared,"she said softly."Because it's you, and it's now, and it's perfect."

He positioned himself with one script, first sliding his knockout humanness around through her lips, coating himself and the golosh with glibness. His head pressed at her entrance and she opened her stage, lifting her human knee. He held there for a petty before he pushed in deeper. Just a minuscule bit, giving her time to adjust. He slid in, and it was surprisingly soft, though her body tried to turn away his advance at firstly. Then he pushed a little bit more, a little bit harder, and he slid home.

"Oh, my,"she gasped as he held perfectly still inside her. She could sense the conflict between his head and his torso as he strained to restrain himself from moving.
"Are you all right ?"
She couldn't speak, so she just nodded her head. She was so full - he was so very much heavy than her vibrator, so much more in effect, for that subject. It was a strange smell, having something that big inside her. But the to a greater extent her body decompress around him, the easily it got.
"How does it feel to no longer be a virgin ?"he whispered hoarsely against the curve of her neck opening. She still couldn't happen her vox, so she just smiled.

Brandon seemed to understand, because he pressed his brim against her and moved his articulatio coxae, shifting back just a little before surging back again. She swallowed away the tightness in her throat that always indicated split and took mystifying breaths while he moved slowly inside her, gradually picking up the tempo. His breathing was hard and laboured when he slid in and out with measured strokes.

"So smashed,'he moaned."So wet."So perfect…"
"Can you… go a fiddling faster ?"Emily asked hesitantly. She was no long sore, just full, and she wanted something, anything, to occupy the sudden, unexpected emptiness that seemed to suffer come from nowhere and settled between her legs.
"No problem,"he said, moving a bit more forceful, his coxa straining to get closed to hers.
She crossed her legs around his shank and her coat of arms around his body as he kissed her cervix. The phone of their breathing filled the room, followed by the wet sounds that came with sex, and the slaps of their physical structure banging against each other.

Her awkward attempts at thrusting back had him clenching his teeth as he slipped in and out of her slick, hot core. She was so damn wet, so damn blotto, and he wanted to come so badly. But he was n't fix to break yet, not with Emily in his arms, under him and around him, making sounds that drove him crazy.

He started thrusting faster and wilder, feeling her inner muscles clinch his cock as he pumped into her. He lifted himself on his genu and pulled her hip towards his consistence, holding her up with his hands cupped under her ass. The new position had her body bow backwards as he thrust in deeper and harder. She gasped with every stroke as the tip of his turncock went in deeper than before. Her men cupped her boob and she rubbed and pinched her nipples.

"Oh, yes,"he moaned."Fuck, that's hot. Don't stop !"
"More,"she gasped when he went even faster."I need more. Please, Brandon, I want… I need…"
"William Tell me,"he said, hissing through his teeth for breath."William Tell me what you want."
"You,"she said, and his balls slapped against her with each poke."Just you, taking me… Oh, oh, yes ! Right there, please, again !"
He complied, rubbing her clit with one digit as the other hand held her lower consistence up for him to use.
"I'm going to cum,"she said."Please… oh, yes, yes, Brandon !"

She threw back her head as she came again and even through the safe, Brandon could find the fresh gushes of nectar. The bulwark of her pussycat was pulsing and pulsating, tugging him inscrutable and hard, milking him and tugging at his putz like a slick, wet velvety fist. It was the hot liquid state tugs, the expression of bliss on her side and her prideful screaming that made him suffer ascendency. He trembled as he lunged inside, as deep as he could go, one lowest time. He felt that too-familiar notion as his ballock drew up sloshed against his trunk, as the pleasant-tasting orgasm hit him, seeming to come both from outside and within his body. He held himself deep and ground down on her as he came hard, squirt after spirt filling up the rubber, so much so that he was almost afraid it would spill over. But he was helpless to do anything but celebrate inside her tight sheath as the tremors in them both subsided.

After a few minutes, his heartbeat had returned to only three times as fast as usual, and he flopped down on the bed side by side to her. He pulled of the condom and cleaned up his dick with a tissue from the box on her bedside board. She was still breathing fast, and he pulled her into his arms, entwining their legs as they came down from whatever cloud they had been on.

"I have this fantasy,"she said after being quiet for so long that he'd thought she had fallen asleep.
"Sure affair, honey,"he muttered."Just gim me a few minutes and I'll be good to go again."
"Not right now, you dolt,"she said, snuggling in deeper to belie her words."Later. I have this fancy. Of sex. In a bar."
He opened one eye and looked at her."Really ?"
"Oh, yes,"she said, putting her arm around his pectus and rubbing her leg soothingly against his."I've always had a matter for hot bartenders."
"Well, well,"he said, keeping the inevitable drowsiness at bay so they could enjoy the post-coital chat a little longer."And to think I've always had a ssecret bibliothec fantasy."
She looked up at him, her down optic struggling to focus on his without her spectacles, but then she smiled."Is that so ?"
"Yeah,"he said."I've always had a thing for hot adult female telling me I'm not allowed to talk."
She giggled."Then bar talking right now,"she commanded.

He grinned.

This was going to be so much fun .