Emma Read online

  “But how can Emma be making love with a girl who’s basically just a child?” wondered Charlotte.

  “Don’t worry about that,” smiled Susan stroking the bristles on Charlotte’s crotch. “But I think you’ll find that one bald crotch is enough for Emma now.”

  Charlotte looked down at Susan’s face peeking up cheekily from just beneath her stomach. She couldn’t help smiling back at the good humour that Susan was emanating, and experienced a certain weight of mystery about Emma’s intentions and desires suddenly lift by the light of Susan’s illumination.

  Josephine also smiled, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Much as she dearly loved Charlotte, she was aware of an element of deception in their relationship. She knew that Charlotte didn’t really have any lovers besides herself and Susan - a situation basically unchanged since Emma’s return to the flat - but this didn’t deter her from making love widely and freely, and not just because her job required it. However, she appreciated Charlotte’s sensitivity on such issues better than Susan. She knew how much Charlotte loved her, and also how much hurt it would cause her to know that she might have made love to one or more men during the day. Josephine also knew that her love for Charlotte couldn’t possibly equal the intensity of Charlotte’s for her. Or even Charlotte’s for Emma. This despite the fact that since Emma had returned to the flat, she’s spent virtually all of her time with Maisie.

  It felt strange to Josephine to be in the midst of so much love and passion. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel love or passion herself. It was just somehow less intense. Less exclusively focused. She rather appreciated her own flat on the other side of town, where she would sleep one or maybe two nights a week: often just by herself in amongst her cuddly toys. It wasn’t just Charlotte’s love for Emma and her, or Emma’s passion and jealousy of Maisie, there was also Susan, who was so absurdly obsessed with Charlotte. Not that this prevented Susan from having sex with men, nor if the opportunity occurred, either through her work or otherwise, with other women. As a sex actress, her attitude towards sex was extremely ambivalent, and although Josephine didn’t share the same feelings, she could see how it might be possible to feel passionately in love with one woman, and still really enjoy sex with many other people including, of course, Josephine herself.

  Susan had made her worship of Charlotte into something of a religion. Not just shaving Charlotte’s crotch (which had now discontinued since Maisie’s appearance on the scene) but in the way she brought Charlotte breakfast in bed, fussed around her all the time and combed her hair. Indeed, if Charlotte had allowed it, she would probably wipe her arse clean after Charlotte had a shit. Susan had even tried to demonstrate the permanency of her love by getting a small tattoo put on her upper shoulder with Charlotte written on the face of a red rose.

  Josephine knew more than Charlotte of the intensity of Susan’s passion, as she was in the position of being Susan’s confidante. She knew that Susan always fantasised about making love with Charlotte whilst making love with other people. She knew that Susan claimed to have never truly loved anyone else before. This was why previously she could only make love to an audience, as a way of exciting her libido through exhibitionism. She knew that Susan religiously spent half an hour to an hour each day masturbating with a variety of sexual aids, concentrating her sexual passion entirely on Charlotte.

  Although Josephine knew that Charlotte was fully aware of Susan’s love for her (it was after all declared almost every day) she was sure Charlotte wasn’t aware of its intensity or its purity.

  The way that Susan would selflessly sit aside to permit Josephine to make as much love to Charlotte as her true love desired, and only participated when her well attuned sexual instincts told her that Charlotte was truly prepared. The way Susan would tirelessly watch Charlotte and jump to attention whenever an opportunity to be helpful occurred. The way Susan never betrayed, even to Josephine, the frustration and disappointment she must have felt in not having her love reciprocated.

  Josephine didn’t have to go to work that morning. Indeed, the only one who had to was Charlotte, and, with a little help from Susan, she’d been packed off to work in her overcoat and sandals while Josephine was still luxuriating naked in bed. In fact Josephine was really only stirred into real wakefulness when Susan slid back under the sheets after slipping off the kimono she habitually wore, lowered her hands down to her crotch and began stroking her clitoris as she often did after bidding Charlotte off. Josephine rolled over to watch Susan’s fingers busy themselves around the top of her vagina, while her other hand stimulated her nipples. She looked up at Susan’s face to gauge whether she wanted more than private pleasure, but she knew enough by now that although she would participate with apparent enthusiasm in any lovemaking Josephine might propose, most likely her preference would be to excite her imagination.

  Josephine really didn’t feel like disturbing Susan, so she swung her feet off the bed, rubbed some of the detritus from her eyes and quietly wandered off to the kitchen. When she got there, she noticed that she wasn’t the only one wanting breakfast at that time. The kettle was boiling and a couple of mugs were standing prepared with teaspoons inside. Just by the kettle was a bread board with a plastic bag of sliced wholemeal bread and organic margarine. There also was Emma: her bare behind sticking suggestively out as she leant over to look in the cupboards, quite as beautiful from behind as from anywhere else.

  Josephine heart leaped as the eroticism of Emma’s posture struck her, and, following her desires, she picked up the tub of margarine, fingered out a scoop of it onto her forefingers and approached Emma. She tenderly started stroking Emma’s behind in the way she knew Emma would enjoy. At first Emma started, but as she felt Josephine’s practised caresses, she grunted appreciatively, and relaxed as with one hand Josephine stroked around Emma’s buttocks and gradually eased open her cheeks. Then she brought her other hand round and with a little force eased the margarine into the squeeze between the buttocks, while at the same time exercising Emma’s clitoris and cunt with the other hand and kissing her neck from behind. Then when Emma’s arse was sufficiently greased, she pushed her fingers deep inside her anus and pushed away from the rear while at the front pushing harder and harder into Emma’s vagina. Emma laid her hands against the wall, surrendering herself to this unexpected erotic assault.

  While Josephine was thus engaged and Emma’s little gasps became more throaty, she felt a hand brush against her back. It was Susan who was smiling broadly and was handing her a rather long carrot. Josephine took the hint, and while still stroking and exercising Emma’s cunt, she gradually eased the cool rough carrot into Emma’s anus. As this was happening, she felt Susan’s hands grip around her as Susan began stroking Josephine’s vagina and then passionately kissing Emma full on the mouth.

  Josephine found that she who’d instigated all this was somehow in the midst of it with Emma in front and Susan behind. Her senses began to swim: partly from passion and partly from the strain of making love while standing up on the kitchen linoleum. It didn’t surprise her too much to feel Susan’s fingers probe deep inside her own backside, though her gasp of pleasure surprised her when it erupted from her.

  “Oh Emma! Emma!” gasped Josephine in great passion.

  “Oh! Charlotte my love!” whispered Susan a little inappropriately.

  “Ooohh! Ooohh!” gasped Emma in little eructations of ecstasy.

  “Where’s the tea?” came a quite different voice.

  Startled, Emma pulled herself free and looked at Maisie who had come into the kitchen, naked as always, to see three much more mature but also naked women indulging in sex with vegetables and margarine.

  “I’m hungry,” Maisie complained rubbing her eyes with her little fists.

  She didn’t seem at all perturbed by the girls’ intimacy, and in fact made no comment of it at all as Josephine, Susan and Emma hastily disentangled themselves from each other and shared in the task of preparing breakfast for Maisie and chatting about the d
ay ahead.

  When all four were finally seated on stools by the breakfast table, all naked except for Susan who had chosen to put some long socks on, Maisie smiled broadly.

  “It was ever so funny watching you all buggering each other,” she chuckled.

  Josephine slightly whitened (it was after all she who’d made it happen) but her reaction was as nothing compared to Emma who visibly reddened from her brow to her breast and spluttered incoherently.

  “Bububuggering?”

  “That’s what it’s called isn’t it?” Maisie continued, clearly enjoying the embarrassment she’d caused. “I’ve often seen it on the telly. And it’s ever so clever that two of you were being buggered at the same time.” She leaned over as if to confide with Josephine. “Emma’ll never bugger me, although she often gets me to shove a dildo up her arse!”

  “Maisie!” gasped Emma, who appeared outraged. “How can you talk about private things with other people like that?”

  “It can’t be that private if you’re doing it with the others!” retorted Maisie. “And why can’t I join in? Why is it you can have sex with Susan and Josephine, and I can’t? I think it’s really unfair!”

  It was Josephine’s time to blush now. She looked up at Maisie, incapable of saying a word, and looked for guidance at the even more embarrassed Emma, who was smiling in a kind of helpless and uncertain way. It was however Susan, impossible to embarrass on matters of sex or love, who rescued the situation.

  “I’m sure Emma’s got no objection to you making love with either Josephine or me. And we’ll be delighted to make love with you. But not now, as you’ve got to be at the studio to rehearse today, haven’t you?”

  “I suppose so,” said the mollified Maisie. “But we will later won’t we, Emma? Won’t we?”

  “Sorry. What will we do?”

  “Make love. Have sex. All of us. Together. You promise. Don’t you?”

  “I suppose so,” concurred a reluctant Emma.

  Chapter XVII

  It wasn’t often that Emma ever went out shopping. Normally she ordered her groceries or whatever on the internet. But it wasn’t always possible to get everything you wanted that way, and so, despite her reluctance to wear any kind of clothing, she set off during her lunch time to visit the shopping mall. Others may not have been convinced that Emma was making a concession as she walked along wearing nothing but sandals and a long skirt hanging from her waist, but even this minimum of clothing had to be borrowed from one of the sex actresses in a production of updated Hans Christian Anderson fairy tales that Emma was working on.

  She eventually found the bookshop she was looking for: one quite large enough to have everything she might like to buy or browse. There were several floors to the bookshop, a café on the top floor from which she’d once been evicted for immodesty and a crèche for children near the entrance. Emma knew what she wanted though, and anxiously scanned the displayed index of book categories to find it. After some deliberation, she decided that Sex and Family Matters was probably the right section. Modern and Ancient Pornography, Sexual Art and Photography and Education were probably not right. Eventually she found the section she was looking for: very discreetly hidden in amidst Baby Care, Pregnancy and Teenage Angst. The classic book of child sex: The Intimate Family.

  The book was written by a Delia Cook, pictured naked on the back cover with her arms around two naked children - a boy of about twelve and a girl of maybe fifteen or sixteen - who Emma supposed were her own. The pictures were taken full-frontal, in keeping with the whole spirit of the book that was, as its flyleaf promised, frank and explicit. It also had a very coy front cover giving no hint of what it might be discussing. Which of course was entirely to do with practical incest and child sexuality.

  Emma looked through the frontispiece:

  These days, people are always asking for practical and unsensational advice with regard to leading a happy and harmonious intimate family life. My intention is to provide readers with just this. I will make no attempt to moralise or preach, but I have spoken to and taken advice from families, and indeed individuals, who have practiced intimate family relations and where appropriate I have broadcast their opinions and advice. Much of what I discuss has, naturally, been based on personal experience, for which I must thank my very understanding husband and my two loving children. Naturally some research has had to be done elsewhere, and again I have tried not to shirk in my duties.

  Emma flicked through the pages of the book, which was a very expensive and weighty hardback. There was a mixture of line drawings and black-and-white photographs supporting the text, which made the book seem bizarrely academic. It was with a certain amount of apprehension that she took the book to the cash desk because its reputation was such that it was pretty much a confession to the world that she practised either incest or child sex. Or both.

  However the middle-aged shop assistant who frowned so severely and unsympathetically at Emma as she wrapped the book up as if it was a bundle of dried faeces was less concerned about the book, of whose reputation she was thoroughly ignorant, than about Emma’s toplessness. In fact, the eyes that Emma felt like cloaked daggers as she walked along were not at all aware that she’d even bought a book at all. Bookshops were still places where semi-nudity was generally confined to the bookshelf.

  Emma knew that there was no likelihood that she’d ever be able to read the book at home, where Maisie would be forever demanding her attention. And even if Maisie were not there she still felt sufficiently embarrassed about her relationship with her not to want to be seen reading a book on the subject of such intimacies by her flatmate and guests. She therefore walked to a nearby park and sat down to read it as discreetly as she could. She deliberately chose to lie down on her front on the warm summer grass, so that her breasts would attract rather fewer in the way of lascivious stares. How to Bring Intimacy into Your Family was the title of the next section she looked at. There was a line-drawing of a small boy’s erect penis being stroked by the hands of a substantially older woman.

  When and How to start intimate relations in the family is a tricky question which I’ve often been asked. I think the honest answer to that question is to ask the questioner just why they are asking the question. I don’t believe it is right to start an intimate relation with your nearest and dearest unless the entire reason for doing so is to do with wanting a fulfilling and close loving tenderness with them. And this is a view widely shared by those I have discussed the subject with. It is quite natural that as your children get older, you feel a stronger and deeper affection for them, and only natural that you should want to express this affection in the most intimate way possible. It must be remembered of course that your children (and indeed others in your family) may not feel that an intimate closeness should be quite as free and varied as you do.

  In particular, it is worth mentioning that once you have started on the path of intimate family relations, it cannot be reversed. My daughter, Jennifer, would not now contemplate a relation with her father that did not include complete vaginal penetration - and already my son, Kevin, considers time spent with any of his family that does not involve fellatio or cunnilingus as wasted effort. But once started on this path, there is undoubtedly satisfaction and joy that brings a family closer together. For it is well said that the family that fucks together stays together.

  After this preamble, there was a section which described techniques of introducing oneself and one’s children to the joys of sex. Throughout there were constant warnings about going too far to begin with, because this was a subtle and progressive process and as much attention must be given to psychological preparedness as to the physical. As regards to the physical, the advice was generally to do with precautions for anal intercourse and, indeed, vaginal intercourse with the younger member of the family.

  In the heat of the moment it is always possible to forget the discomfort that your activities may cause to the younger or smaller participant. As a general rule, do not
start any kind of penetrative sex until your partner actually requests it (and don’t worry, he or she will in due course: after seeing the fun other members of the family have!). Even then, judge your penetration appropriate not just to the age of the participant, but to their previous experience and their physical limitations. Even adult men and women may have very tight orifices, so don’t think those of children are going to be very different. The advice I would tend to give is: Stick to the oral sex for as long as possible. The younger child can get considerable joy from having his or her sexual organs caressed by the tongue, and they will never tire of stimulating the older family member’s organs - in particular the penis. A word of warning however - it is possible for a child to choke on a fully erect penis, so to avoid future distress in the family, gauge this behaviour appropriately.

  Emma flicked through the pages until she came to a chapter entitled coyly Other Families and Yours. This chapter concerned itself with sex with other people’s children and partners.

  It is always a delight to find other families that practice intimate relations as well as your own, and our family for one has always enjoyed inviting other families around for additional entertainment. Naturally, one has to be conscious of the very different mores different families may have. Martin, my son, was most distressed to find that the fourteen year old daughters of a colleague of mine from the infirmary did not practice either anal or vaginal intercourse. He protested that he and his sister had lost their virginity at a much earlier age. It was all that my husband and I could do to prevent him from taking the poor girl’s maidenhead. It is after all the right and proper thing that their parents have the prerogative on such matters. (If, indeed they feel, as my husband and I do, that children’s maidenheads properly belong to those who have borne them). The embarrassment has of course also been the other way, when the ten year old son of a neighbour tried to urinate in my daughter’s mouth and wanted her to penetrate him with a dildo. I don’t wish to proscribe such behaviour (it is perfectly acceptable if all concerned are in agreement) but our family has set its own limits.