Loving Emily

Babes

If they asked I always told new girlfriends (including my wife) the truth about my previous lovers except for two women I have never spoken directly about. Both women formed part of my practical sexual education and also permanently captured part of my heart. This story recounts the start of a ‘brief affair’ although it is not a conventional one.

The encounter took place approximately a month before my twenty-first birthday and would never have occurred except for a crude remark by a drunken friend. It was a Saturday night three days before Christmas and I had meant to meet my three old school friends for a night out before we each sent Christmas day with our families. I worked shifts and was working that day but due to staff shortages I ended up working four extra hours and I only made the pub in time for last orders. It was a double blow as it was my round and my friends had moved on to shorts to finish off the night. Pete, Phil and Andy had gone to a football match that afternoon and had been drinking at lunchtime only breaking for the match and the tube journey back to Pete’s local.

Andy’s and Pete’s girlfriends, Julie and Emma had joined them in the pub and were fairly drunk themselves. Julie and Andy left Pete, Emma, Phil and me to walk back to Pete’s house while they went to her parents for the night. Being sober it was funny to watch my two mates struggling to walk straight on the way back. Emma complained about having to walk so I gave her a piggy-back and she clung on drunkenly.

“If I didn’t love Pete I could quite happily wrap my legs around you properly,” giggled Emma suggestively.

“Well if I didn’t like Pete I would quite happily let you,” I replied.

Pete and Phil started an argument about what type of girls they preferred; Pete seemingly had forgotten Emma was there too.

They were getting louder as we turned into Pete’s road and I had to get them to shut up as I knew Pete’s neighbours would complain to his mother the next day. Normally Phil, Emma and I would leave Pete at his door and walk to the local cab office and get a taxi back home as we only lived a few streets apart on a council estate five miles away. Phil and I would normally have to wait for a few minutes while Pete and Emma said goodnight.

Pete shared his home with his widowed mother (his dad had died suddenly of a massive heart attack five years earlier). His home was a four bedroom townhouse on a private estate which his father had brought before he had met Pete’s mother. Pete’s father had been a highly paid company lawyer working for a large bank in the city of London. Pete’s mother was a cheerful, gentle, well spoken woman who dressed neatly and demurely who had always made us welcome when we were younger but had withdrawn after her husband’s death.

When we arrived at Pete’s door he insisted we come in for a nightcap and although it was against my better instincts I agreed just to ensure Phil and Emma got a cab home. As Pete put his key in the lock the door was opened by his mother.

“I thought that it was you making all that noise,” she said as a greeting.

“We’ve been to the pub,” slurred Pete.

“I can tell; well come on in before you upset the neighbours,” she commanded.

She directed us to the living room and told us to take a seat. Phil slumped in an armchair as Emma and Pete collapsed on the settee I had to squeeze in beside them. It was obvious that Pete’s mother had been sitting in the only other armchair looking at photo albums.

“Does anyone want a hot drink?” she asked us.

“No mum we are going to have a proper nightcap. Where’s Dad’s whiskey?” declared Pete.

“No Peter, you can’t touch that!” she said with a hard edge to her voice.

“Let’s just have a coffee or tea to sober up?” I suggested.

“No I want a proper drink!” replied Pete defiantly.

“Well I would like a cup of tea please, Mrs Johnson,” I said hoping to lighten the brewing atmosphere.

“Coffee would be nice, please,” agreed Emma.

“I’ll have a coffee, then,” said Phil.

“Oh why don’t we all do as she wants!” said Pete sarcastically. “Well off you go then woman, go and make the tea and coffee!”

“Pete, don’t speak to your mum like that!” I said.

“Who are you my Dad!” he retorted.

“Peter, stop it!” Mrs Johnson said.

“Kevin you seem to be sober, come and help me, I’ll make some toast too!” she said to me.

I followed her into the kitchen and help her with the drinks and food. I tried to apologise for Pete saying he was drunk and problem didn’t mean to be so rude.

“He has been getting worse lately and drunker,” Mrs Johnson said without looking up.

We heard raised voices from the living room so I said I would try to get them to be quieter. I took the tray of drinks in while she finished the toast. As I pushed open the door Pete stood up and I heard Phil’s voice.

“Yeah, I reckon your mum’s tits would be quite nice to suck on,” he said a little too loudly.

Pete flew at him grabbing at his throat; Phil dodged and izmir escort bayan they fell on the floor pushing the door back on me sending the tray of hot drinks flying and covering me in tea and coffee. Pete was in a rage and grappling with Phil.

Mrs Johnson appeared behind me and shouted at Pete to stop but he did seem to hear. So I managed to grab Pete and pull him off. He began thrashing about so I gripped him in a bear hug and lifted him off his feet. Phil scrambled away and Emma moved over to him.

Pete’s temper began to subside so I let him go.

“I think it would be better if you went to bed Peter and your friends went home,” said Mrs Johnson in a calm voice.

Pete didn’t say anything he just turned and stomped out of the room slamming the door behind him. I started to feel the heat from the tea and coffee sinking into the skin on my chest and I pulled my shirt away.

“We had best go then,” said Emma.

She pulled Phil to his feet and they headed for the door, I turned to follow.

Mrs Johnson put her hand on my arm.

“Kevin, you can’t go out with your clothes wet and your lip is bleeding,” she said.

Before I could say anything Emma said she would get a taxi back with Phil and she would call in the morning to check everything was okay. I took a tenner from my wallet and gave it to her to cover the fare back as I knew Phil was out of cash and as Emma was still a student she didn’t have much money.

Mrs Johnson looked at me disapprovingly after they left.

“Can you afford to give them money for the taxi?” she asked.

“They are friends and I wouldn’t let Emma walk the streets for the sake of ten pounds,” I replied.

“Well at least one of Peter’s friends has manners; Philip is so crude sometimes,” she said.

I hadn’t realised she had heard what Phil had said to provoke Pete but the edge to her voice suggested she was very offended. I began to apologise for Phil but she cut me off.

“Let’s just sort out that cut and your clothes. You can stay in one of the spare rooms tonight and Peter can apologise to you in the morning!” she declared.

“Thank you, I will help tidy the mess,” I offered.

“I’ll take you upstairs first and get you a dressing gown and you can give me your clothes to dry,” said Mrs Johnson.

The dressing gown was at least one size too small and my long gangly arms poked out of the sleeves. When I had changed into the dressing gown I took my shirt and trousers downstairs and began to help clear the broken teapot and cups. I noticed the photo albums had been knocked to the floor and I picked them up and stacked some lose photos on top. I looked at the photo on the top of the stack and recognised Pete’s Dad.

“Is this you and Mr Johnson?” I asked.

“Yes, that was our honeymoon on Capri,” she replied.

“You both look very happy, I think Mr Johnson was a very lucky man you look beautiful in this picture,” I said.

“We were very happy and thank you; but it was a long time ago,” said Mrs Johnson.

I noticed her eyes begin to water.

“Sorry I did mean to upset you I just thought it was a nice picture of the two of you,” I tried to explain.

“You’re a nice boy, I shouldn’t have been so off with your friends earlier,” she said.

Then she remembered my split lip and looked closely at my face.

“Does that feel okay?” she asked. ” I think I have some antiseptic. What about the tea did it burn you?” she said.

“Its fine it’s not the worst injury I have had,” I replied.

I pulled the dressing gown to one side as if to show her there was no damage and realised there was a bright red mark across my chest and stomach where the hot liquid had scalded me. Mrs Johnson gently traced her fingers over the burnt area.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“As my mum says, no sense no feeling!” I replied laughing.

We tidied the rest of the broken crockery away and Mrs Johnson took the tray back to the kitchen. She returned a short while later with two cups of cocoa and some biscuits.

“I thought you might like a nightcap it’s only cocoa but I also want to talk about Peter,” she said.

I sat in one of the armchairs and she settled on the settee across from me. She told me how moody he had been of late and how angry he seemed especially with her. I promised to try to speak to him to find out what might be troubling him. To lighten the mood I asked her about the photo albums.

She pulled the photo albums towards her and indicated for me to sit next to her. She turned the pages of the albums showing me pictures of her with her husband and Pete through the years before Mr Johnson had died. There didn’t seem to be any photos since his death. Most of the photos were taken on holidays to foreign climes and we laughed at some of the pictures of Pete changing as he grew. The main thing that caught my eye was difference in the woman in the photos to the woman sitting next to me. The photos showed a laughing beach babe happily posing on the beach escort izmir in bikinis. Mrs Johnson had a superb figure, dark tanned skin and I had to admit Phil was right about her tits. They must have been at least a DD cup in the pictures and I glanced down to her chest to double check it was the same woman.

Mrs Johnson managed to cover her impressive chest with demure clothes and without seeing the photos I wouldn’t have even begun to think the thoughts that were now running through my head. We got to the last set of photos and I recognised the fifteen year old Pete and saw yet another image of this bikini clad babe; I realised that it was only five years before and could have only been a few months before Mr Johnson had died.

“I expect you miss your husband very much,” I said thinking out loud.

“Yes, I do especially this time of year,” Mrs Johnson replied quietly.

“I bet Peter does too,” I said.

“Yes we used to have lovely Christmases together,” she said. “But I suppose I liked the New Year best as it’s my birthday. Tom and I would spend the day together as it was guaranteed that he would not be dragged away for work.”

I let her continue as she seemed to want to talk.

“When Peter came along we would drop him over to his grandparents on New Year’s Eve and have the day to ourselves. Peter never minded as he was spoilt terribly by them,” a smile spread across her face, “Tom would wake me with breakfast in bed. Boiled eggs and marmite soldiers, my favourite, plus a glass of Bucks Fizz!” she said.

“He would make sure I had my cards and presents to open, we would cuddle up and make plans for the year. Then we would….” her voice trailed off. “Do what married couples do,” she said after a pause.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks so I put my arm around her shoulders and she leaned into me. Then her sobbing became louder and all I could do was to hold her close and wait for her to calm down. I sat back in my seat and she snuggled closer and continued sobbing. I could feel her breasts press against my side and my cock began to grow and stiffen but I couldn’t shift position without bringing her attention to it.

Eventually the long day and cocoa must have kicked in and without knowing I drifted off to sleep. Mrs Johnson must have done the same as when I woke up she was still snuggled up. We had been asleep for nearly an hour I checked my lap for obvious signs of arousal but luckily my cock was not standing too proud so I gently shook her awake.

“I think we should go up to bed,” I said.

“Sorry for the fuss I just made,” she said groggily.

“It’s okay Mrs Johnson, I think you need to have a little cry sometimes,” I replied.

“You can call me Emily, you know, Mrs Johnson sounds like a school teacher,” she said.

“Well Emily I think we should both go up to bed and get some sleep,” I replied.

We took the cups into the kitchen, turned out the lights and I said goodnight to her outside her bedroom and headed up stairs to the top floor. The bedrooms upstairs shared a small en-suite bathroom and I had just walked back into my room when Emily walked in with a bath towel for me in the morning.

She was wearing a dressing gown over a long nightdress but her curves were more obvious in the thinner clothes. I had taken off the dressing gown before I went into the bathroom so Emily caught sight of me in just my boxer shorts. She handed the towel to me and paused looking down at the bulge in my boxers caused by my ‘lazy lob’ from earlier.

“I’ve brought you a towel for the morning,” she said.

Then she reached up and kissed my cheek.

“I hope I didn’t embarrass you earlier, goodnight,” Emily said.

“No, goodnight, sleep well,” I replied as I awkwardly returned her kiss on the cheek trying to avoid brushing my now stirring cock against her body.

When she had gone I turned out the light and slipped under the covers feeling my cock expanding and stiffening. I rolled over hoping my erection would subside but it just kept throbbing. Guiltily I fantasised about Mrs Johnson’s tits as I stroked my cock hard until I came; pumping semen out of my pulsing cock. I quickly went to the bathroom to mop up my seed then crawled back to bed and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning I was woken by a knock on the bedroom door and just managed to pull the bed covers over me as Mrs Johnson walked in. My normal ‘morning glory’ was pulsing beneath the sheets as she brought my dry clothes from the laundry room.

“I’m making some breakfast if you want to come down before your shower?” she said.

“That would be nice, I’ll come down in a minute,” I replied.

When she left I went into the bathroom to try to shrink my erection so that it was less noticeable under my borrowed dressing gown.

It was about nine-thirty on the Sunday morning as we sat drinking tea and talking. She asked about my family. I gave her the complicated potted history of how my mum and dad had met and how much older he was and all of the kids they had. izmir escort I noticed the same sad look come across her face as the night before.

“Tom was fifteen years older than me and we both wanted to have a big family,” she said.

“Why didn’t you?” I asked.

Then as tears welled up in her eyes I realised my stupidity for asking a personal question.

“Sorry I’m upsetting you again with my stupid questions,” I said.

She sniffed back the tears.

“No I’m just over emotional, I should be able to talk about it after all this time,” she replied.

She told me how she had miss-carried her second baby after four weeks and her third after six weeks. The second miscarriage had been quite serious and Tom decided that they should be happy with just having Peter as he could not imagine a life without her. We sat in silence for a short while then I put my arms around her and hugged her to my chest. I felt her begin to weep quietly as she returned the hug. I had to twist my body away from hers to avoid embarrassment as I felt my cock stirring and hardening.

When the tears stopped she raised her face and kissed my cheek like the previous night.

“I have never spoken about it with anyone but Tom even Peter doesn’t know he could have had brothers and sisters,” she murmured.

“I think you should try to tell him, it might make him understand you a little better,” I said.

“I’m not sure, he seems to resent not having brothers and sister like most of his friends and I think he won’t like not being told before,” she replied.

I was still holding her close when we heard footsteps on the stairs and Mrs Johnson jumped and pushed me away. She started clearing the plates and cups as Pete came into the kitchen.

“Morning how’s the head?” I said loudly.

Pete groaned.

“Awful, I didn’t know you stayed?” he replied.

I reminded him of the incident the night before as Mrs Johnson stayed silent while she made more tea and some toast for Pete. Pete checked my split lip and promised to buy me a beer to say sorry. I suggested we meet the next day as I was going into London to do my last-minute Christmas shopping and would be close to his office.

“Are you still coming to the New Year party at the pub, since your girlfriend has gone back to Australia?” Pete asked.

“I’m not sure since I’ll be the only one without a date. Even Phil is taking the girl he met at his last DJ’ing gig!” I said.

“Well it would be a shame to waste your money. Terry won’t let you have a refund,” said Pete.

I looked across the kitchen at Mrs Johnson.

“Mrs Johnson, would you like to come to the New Year’s Eve party as my guest?” I asked.

Pete looked horrified, “Mum won’t want to come out with us!” he declared.

“Well it’s not just us and we owe her an apology for last night’s mess,” I replied.

Mrs Johnson spoke up, “Kevin I told you last night that you can call me Emily and if I am going to be your date you can’t call me Mrs Johnson all evening. It will make a nice change, I accept!” she said.

“I promise not to cramp your style Peter. It would be nice to get to know Emma a little better,” she continued.

She looked at Pete, “Your friends can stay the night here if they want to. It will save them trying to get taxis home.”

“Well I was going to stay over at Julie’s with Andy and Emma,” Pete replied, “As you normally like to spend New Year on your own.”

“That’s okay,” Mrs Johnson replied, “Kevin, you can still stay over, and it would be nice to have a little company?”

“Yes, I would like that. Last year I had to walk home as the taxis were booked solid,” I said with a smile, “It took me nearly three hours but at least I sobered up!”

Mrs Johnson left Pete and I in the kitchen and went off to have a shower and get dressed. Pete looked at me accusingly.

“What did you have to invite her for?” he asked. “Now she knows I am staying overnight with Emma she will be trying to make me feel guilty,” he said.

“No she won’t. Your Mum has been lonely since your Dad died. I thought it might be nice to invite her,” I said, “Anyway it’s her birthday the next day, don’t you want to be here for that?”

“She never wanted me around before Dad died and she stays in her room for most of the day,” replied Pete with a hint of venom in his voice. “I have even got her a present, this year!” he continued.

“Well there’s still time,” I said.

“I’ve spent all my money on Emma’s Christmas presents, so Mum will have to wait until I get paid in January!” he said.

I excused myself and went upstairs to shower and change. When I came back down Pete had gone back to bed and Mrs Johnson was in the living room. She turned around when I opened the door her hair was still wet and combed back off her face. She looked stunningly beautiful even without make-up; her dark hair and eyes gave her a Mediterranean look. She was wearing an open necked blouse over a mid-length skirt; her curves were accentuated and she seemed brighter.

“You look nice,” I said, “You are okay with me asking you to the party?”

“Yes, it was very good of you, I will look forward to it,” she smiled, “I think Peter was annoyed, he probably thinks I will be spying on him all evening.”

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