Emma Read online

  Charlotte to a certain extent understood and appreciated why Susan’s uncomplicated and straightforward personality was more comfortable for Maisie than Emma’s. However, Emma couldn’t accept that and still made great show that Maisie was the real love in her life despite the passionate nights she spent with Charlotte. Maisie took the curious attitude that it was Emma who was her girlfriend but that Susan was just best friend.

  This may have suited Maisie: it certainly suited Charlotte who was pleased to have so much more of Emma’s attention than she’d ever had before. And it didn’t appear to concern Susan who still loved Charlotte with the same selfless and tireless devotion.

  Despite spending most nights in Emma’s arms, Charlotte would still be awoken by Susan who now prepared breakfast for both lovers and, of course, Maisie who sometimes accompanied her in the morning. Susan continued to wash and bathe Charlotte each morning and offered to extend the courtesy to Emma, who discourteously refused the invitation. She made a point of polishing Charlotte’s shoes, washing and ironing her clothes and, often with Maisie clinging onto her, declaring her undying and unquestioning love for Charlotte. “It’s only you I love. You are the only thing that makes my life worthwhile,” she would say, taking every opportunity to kiss Charlotte’s body.

  “If she loves you so much, why does she sleep with Maisie?” sniffed Emma. Charlotte didn’t wish to counter, as she well knew, that it was always, and without exception, Maisie who decided who she would sleep or make love with. The evenings were often a very curious battle of wooing between Maisie’s girlfriend and best friend, where both Susan and Emma for different reasons would try to entice Maisie to sleep with Emma. But almost always, Maisie would stay with the girl who gave so much passion and demanded so little analysis of her affection.

  In the meantime, Charlotte benefited as Emma’s lover, if a substitute lover for the child; even if, Emma made sexual demands of Charlotte of an intensity and a violence that she almost certainly never made of Maisie.

  Indeed they were of a nature that Josephine only rarely agreed to make love with Charlotte if Emma was there. “I can’t do my job if I’m covered in bruises and scratches!” Josephine complained. She clearly preferred the company of Susan and Maisie, though she never discussed with Charlotte whether or not she also made love to the little girl. Charlotte’s own body often carried bite-marks, bruises and scratches which Susan would uncomplainingly nurse and sometimes apply make-up to, prior to Charlotte going to work. Sometimes Susan would locate wounds that Charlotte never suspected, as when she found a trickle of blood from Charlotte’s anus which Emma must have inflicted the previous night with that rubber truncheon she’d acquired from somewhere.

  However much Susan tried to cover the evidence, Charlotte’s love-life couldn’t be hidden from her colleagues at work. This, as Charlotte soon appreciated, was a distinctive downside to working in a naturist environment in such close proximity of others. One of her colleagues, Malcolm, had clearly taken a very strong fancy to Charlotte, and she was quite pleased in a way that the evidence of her love-life appeared to preclude his attentions. He was a skinny young man whose desk was positioned across the office but generally faced her direction. He was always very solicitous towards her, but he didn’t have quite the control of his penis he should have had. This was clearly another disadvantage of naturism that women didn’t need to worry about. Malcolm’s penis very rarely appeared totally erect, but erect enough for Charlotte to be sure of what he was thinking and his acute embarrassment served only to make it more apparent.

  There were particular occasions when he had especial difficulties with his loins. The first was when Charlotte started shaving her vulva for Emma’s benefit. This was later matched when Charlotte allowed it to grow long again. And recently, the more obvious bruises and scratches Charlotte had acquired in her lovemaking seemed to excite him. After a while Charlotte made a very determined effort whenever Malcolm was in the proximity to hide bruises on her thighs or around her cunt, or toothmarks on her neck or her nipples. Sometimes, like the time when Emma had somehow managed to blacken Charlotte’s eye and has left a very obvious lovebite on her shoulder, this could not be obscured by documents she could carry or the shadow of her desk.

  Charlotte had made a new friend at work, Becky, who introduced her to an aspect of life she’d never much suspected before.

  Charlotte had always been a middle class girl - and had really only ever known people like her from similarly middle class backgrounds. Becky, however, was a junior clerk whose social circle mostly comprised of car mechanics, supermarket checkout assistants, factory workers and restaurant staff. By her social peers she was considered at least as odd as Charlotte might be by hers, because not only was she a naturist, which was strange enough, but she worked in an office. Becky had clearly worked hard to get where she was and really had few ambitions to go further. She was sufficiently self-reliant to be a naturist when none of her friends were.

  “Well, I’d been on holiday abroad,” she explained. “And everyone was going round starkers. At first I though it was weird, but Stan, my boyfriend, insisted I go starkers too. So we both went round starkers. And I really liked it. So when I come back home I decided I’d go starkers as much as I could. Some of my mates and some of my family don’t like it much. But I’m not a loony naturist. I’ll put clothes on if people are going to be upset. But I just don’t wear a thread most of the time.”

  “And that’s why you’re working here?” Charlotte prompted.

  “Exactly,” Becky confirmed. “There aren’t that many office jobs you can do in the buff, are there?”

  Becky’s attitudes to life were reassuringly uncomplicated and unapologetic, which contrasted favourably with Emma who had to express an opinion on eating meat, wearing clothes or buying certain ideologically unsound products. On the other hand, Charlotte soon began to understand that in her own social group Becky’s attitudes made her a bit of an outsider.

  “We might be down the pub, and Stan’ll talk about how I’m a nudist. How I go round in my birthday suit in the office all day. And all the lads’ll laugh. And one of them’s bound to say: ‘But what’s she like stark bollock naked?’ And Stan’ll say: ‘There’s no bollocks about it!’ And they’ll all laugh. But whatever they say, before you know it they’ll have all my clothes off, and I’ll be there going red while they poke and fiddle about with me. And this won’t be in places where you’re meant to be naked. And then my clothes’ll go missing. And I’ve got to go home in the cold, with goose-pimples all over me, and everyone staring and laughing at me.”

  Becky was quite a short girl - barely five foot tall - slightly round and shapeless but not exactly fat with nipples which were almost of the same pinkness as the rest of her flesh and barely distinct from the rest of her breasts. Despite being a naturist, she’d somehow managed to avoid acquiring a tan, and remained a kind of pale pink, which contrasted with her mousy brown hair which she wore in a bob. Between her legs there was the smallest triangle of pubic hair obscuring what couldn’t be a particular large vagina. Charlotte generally thought of Becky as being roly-poly, but this was without her being particularly fat: it was just that her figure mostly suggested the curves of a feminine figure rather than outlined them.

  “After Stan and his mates go out for a drink or bowls or whatever, - it doesn’t matter if I go with them or not - when they come back he’s always demanding that I get them cups of coffee and get beer out of the fridge. And then they’ll all either take turns at fucking me or do it all together. Stan’s always saying that I give good fucks, and he always wants his mates to know it. Sometimes there’ll be three or four fucking me at the same time. I don’t know who’s doing what. It’s all pricks. Sometimes when they bring a girlfriend or two along they’ll join in. They’ll be fucked by the lads, and sometimes they get her to sort of play around with me.”

  Charlotte knew that Becky had an active sex-life, because Becky often carried the bruises and lovebites to
prove it, but she’d assumed in her middle class way that this was more a testament to the strength of her relationship with Stan.

  “Do you like girls making love to you?” Charlotte wondered.

  “I know what you think!” laughed Becky. “Because you’re a dyke! Sorry, lesbian! I’m not a dyke and neither are these girls dykes. It’s just the lads think it’s great fun to watch girls doing it together. And I suppose it’s some fun, but I prefer a good fuck. Then you know you’re getting the business. And if it’s up the arsehole and up the fanny at the same time then you really feel the earth move.”

  “And your boyfriend actually encourages his mates to make love to you?”

  “Well, it’s only fair. I mean often he’s not back late himself. If he comes back at all. And that’s when he’s been to a mate’s house. And he’ll have been fucking his mate’s wife or girlfriend. It’s just what people do. I know you educated people don’t share things like that much, but it’s just what people I know do. And Stan’ll tell me all about these girls he’s fucked. ‘She was fucking skinny’ or ‘She had fucking awful floppy breasts’ or ‘She smelt like something the cat brought in, and even worse after we’d all fucked her senseless’. None of the girls seem to have been much good - and I suppose that’s why he always comes back home to me. If it’s not just habit of course. But I know that what he says about these girls is what his mates say about me after they’ve been fucking me. ‘She’s not got much of a figure!’ ‘She’s got a tight cunt!’ and of course they’ll all say ‘She’s a fucking nudist! She’s always fucking stark cunt naked!’”

  Chapter XX

  As time went by, Emma saw less and less of Amelia and her secretary, Betty, although she’d been assured she could still expect a passionate welcome. Perhaps this was because her relationship with Maisie had become too full-time for there to be any need for extra company. Perhaps it was because every time she went to meet Amelia she was always far too busy, if she was in the office at all, and only Betty, if she wasn’t herself preoccupied, was ever available to see her. Indeed, her sexual sessions with Betty became less tender on each visit, and Emma suspected that Betty had lost interest in acting as a surrogate for her mistress. This was particularly so considering that Betty was not really very interested in women at all, and when the novelty of sex with Emma had worn off she became much more perfunctory in her lovemaking.

  Now, however, as the relationship between Emma and Maisie was changing (and not that much to her liking), there was a new need or desire to meet Amelia. Much as Emma loved Charlotte, and very flattered by Charlotte’s love for her, her best friend could never be quite the same as her darling Maisie. Charlotte was really only a friend rather than a lover. A close friend, that was true, but a friend nevertheless. The few nights she slept with Maisie no longer seemed to have the same meaning and passion it once had, although Maisie still insisted that Emma was her girlfriend and Susan was just a friend. In fact, Emma suspected that it was only because Susan actively encouraged Maisie to sleep with her, that they ever shared the bed together. And Emma also believed it was because of Susan’s ridiculous unequalled passion for Charlotte.

  Emma gingerly knocked on the door of Amelia’s office and wandered in to see Betty daintily tapping away on the keyboard of her desktop computer. She’d taken off the jacket of her suit to reveal her satin lace bra underneath.

  “Oh hello, Emma!” she said sweetly. “Do you want to see Amelia?”

  Indeed Emma did, but really only for company. She sometimes yearned for those legs that stretched out for so long. And she loved her memory of those voluptuous breasts that she’d not so fully enjoyed since their first night.

  “Amelia’s free at the moment, so I’ll take you in.”

  This was almost more than Emma had hoped for. She’d got used to Betty, successfully hiding her reluctance, offering her body in Amelia’s stead. Betty took Emma into Amelia’s study where she was lying on her back on a divan reading a manuscript wearing only her stockings. When she saw Emma, she jumped up with a spring and a smile and kissed Emma full on the mouth.

  “Come in! Come in!” she said, leading Emma towards the divan. “And you, Betty, come over here!”

  This was definitely more than Emma had hoped, as Amelia pushed Emma flat out on the divan and starting licking her body with her tongue. She directed her mouth towards Emma’s vulva and Emma felt the warm wetness of saliva entangle with her pubic hair. “Don’t neglect me, Betty!” ordered Amelia, at whose prompting her secretary undid her bra to reveal her unaroused nipples and moved out of sight of Emma in the vicinity of Amelia’s rear. Emma caught a glimpse of Betty’s face as it appeared briefly between Amelia’s legs and then she saw her finger stimulating her mistress’s clitoris. Emma ran her fingers through Amelia’s mess of hair as her head bobbed up and down.

  “I need more than this!” complained Amelia, sitting up on her knees causing Betty to slide away.

  “Do you want one of these?” asked Betty producing a dildo.

  “No! Not good enough! Call Frank in!”

  Betty then stood up and left, putting her jacket over her naked breasts as she went out. Amelia continued exploring Emma’s vagina and anus, putting fingers deep inside both orifices, so that Emma could feel them pinch together inside her. She felt wonderfully moist and moaned with excitement. She then felt another object besides fingers inside her, which she was sure was just a dildo. But she looked up to see that a naked man’s erect penis had taken advantage of her nakedness and had thrust straight inside her vagina.

  “Stop! Stop!” cried Emma pushing him off and sliding off the divan onto the floor. “I don’t want one of those things inside me!”

  She picked herself up and stood to one side as Amelia, Betty and this naked man, presumably called Frank, stared at her in apparent astonishment.

  “I thought you’d be delighted, Emma dearest!” said Amelia soothingly.

  “No! Never!” cried Emma in alarm.

  “But it’s the real thing! Not a dildo! And I know you’ve had plenty of those inside you!”

  “I just don’t like them!” Emma sniffed.

  “Well, I hope you won’t mind as Betty and I take advantage of Frank’s charms. He’s a top notch sex artist you know!”

  Emma just didn’t want to know, but out of politeness she sat on a chair while Frank made love to both Amelia and Betty. He never seemed to tire. Nor did he ever come despite how many orgasms he’d apparently engineered in the two women. Emma had never seen Betty express so much passion. She had stripped off all her clothes and offered her anus as freely as her vagina. Finally, Frank reached a certain point and withdrew his penis from deep inside Betty’s arse. It was a long penis: not the longest Emma had ever seen on set, but longer and thicker than the average. It was shining with moisture, with the veins pulsing with engorgement.

  “He’s about to come!” announced Amelia. “How about on you, Emma?”

  “What did you say?” wondered Emma, as she stared at Frank’s penis.

  “Go on, Frank!” ordered Amelia. “Show Emma what no dildo can do!”

  Frank walked over to Emma holding his penis in a strange way to restrain his excitement, and then with no warning, from more than a yard away, he ejaculated and his semen splattered onto Emma’s still sweaty breasts. Emma looked down on the viscous liquid with a mixture of disgust and curiosity.

  “And there’s more, Emma! More!” announced Amelia, walking towards Emma and Frank. “Touch it! Go on! Touch it!”

  Emma felt compelled to obey, and gingerly put a finger on Frank’s penis which immediately jerked with mechanical excitement.

  “Put your hand right round it!”

  Emma obeyed and felt the hot warmth and pulsing energy of Frank’s prick. And then all of a sudden it erupted with a further spurt of semen which spurted onto Emma’s wrists and hands. It felt very warm and very very sticky.

  “See what you’ve been missing!” laughed Amelia, in a way that Emma really didn’t
believe was particularly kind or sympathetic.

  Chapter XXI

  Occasionally, Emma and Charlotte would meet together after work at a naturist café a short walk from their flat. It was not a particularly large café, and Charlotte often found it too cool for wearing no clothes, but it was a very intimate place and Charlotte enjoyed sitting with Emma just holding her hands and sometimes gazing into her beautiful eyes. Sometimes, the clientèle were entertained by a musician who would sit naked on a chair playing a guitar and singing. Sometimes he might be accompanied by a woman who stood naked beside him and sang along with him. More usually, however, the only entertainment was a panel of televisions tuned into a naturist television station and that was the case tonight. The sound was usually turned down so there were only the visuals to be enjoyed, and these were not generally informative in the case of soap operas or comedies.

  Emma was so much sadder these days. Charlotte knew why, but she still hoped she would forget her obsession with Maisie and focus her love more on the one who was sitting next to her and who would do anything (whatever it might be) for her. Of course, she hoped that Emma wouldn’t mind sharing her with Josephine, but after all she’d become accustomed to sharing Emma with so many others! Emma, however, hardly ever touched on the subject. For her, there was nothing to discuss with Charlotte about personal relationships.

  The two women drank only a little wine before making their way home to the flat, with Charlotte thinking only of making love to Emma and holding her naked body as close to her own as she could and still manage to walk together. When they got to their flat and had opened the door, Emma no longer called out for Maisie as she used to do, as it would only remind her that she was probably at that moment enjoying close intimacy with Susan, and possibly Josephine. They wandered into the living room where the stereo was broadcasting some of the saccharine pop music that Maisie enjoyed but there was no one there listening.