A Glorious Tease Ch. 04

For when I never see her again.

Preamble:

I strongly suggest you read the first two chapters first, but here is a summary.

My name is Mike and I work at a University in Amsterdam. I'm completely infatuated with a young woman named Emma who works at the University sports center as a fitness trainer and weight room manager. I'm American, average height with a muscular build, brown hair and brown eyes. Emma is Dutch, but speaks perfect English, and does not look like a typical Dutch woman. Rather than being tall, blonde and pale, Emma is about a half a head shorter than me, has brown hair with blonde highlights, and a tan, olive complexion. Her eyes are very light blue-green. They're gorgeous.

Both Emma and I are very fit. Emma is slim and toned, with perky breasts that are probably about a B-cup (Emma once told me she thinks it's lame when women wear bras that pad their breasts: she's content with hers exactly as they are). And Emma's ass is sensational. I've been with a lot of women, and I have never loved an ass as much as I love Emma's ass.

Emma has a boyfriend, and I'm married with three young children. My wife's name is Christie.

Emma and I were acquaintances/friends for a long time before, very suddenly, our relationship exploded into an intense and explicit flirtation. I wrote out a fantasy that I had about her, and sent it to her as a gift. She loved it, which started me falling in love with her.

At the end of chapter 1 we were both alone at our homes (Christie was out with friends, and my kids were in bed) and we were chatting over email. In return for a sexy picture, Emma convinced me to let her watch me masturbate over the webcam while staying hidden herself. When I was getting close to orgasm, she sent a second photo, naked, close-up between her legs. It made me cum immediately. She came watching me, but then when we were through she said the second picture wasn't of her, and cut off contact, feeling too guilty about what we were doing.

In the second chapter, Emma and I caved in to our lust again and had another encounter. She teasingly told me that she had masturbated about me in the bathroom after I left the gym one day, and then, in return for a look at her lingerie, she convinced me to go into the same bathroom and jerk myself off thinking about her. She told me to keep a little bit of cum on my fingers so that I could prove to her that I had really done it. When I finished and came out of the stall, she was there in the bathroom, and she sucked my fingers into her mouth, tasting my orgasm. Then she quickly stuffed her wet panties into my shorts, and pushed me out of the bathroom.

Excerpt from the final moments of Chapter 2:

I was hard. My fingers weren't entirely clean. I had a pair of wet panties stuck down the front of my shorts, and suddenly I was standing out in the open in the middle of the gym with a shocked, horny look on my face.

In chapter 3, Emma and I enjoyed a highly flirtatious walk together, on her way to the train station. She was dressed up and looked incredible. She a wore a classy, super-sexy royal blue dress that I will remember for the rest of my life.

We stopped in a park to sit down and talk. We talked explicitly about our sexual fantasies. She asked me, if I could cum on her anywhere, where would I cum, and I told her everywhere. I traced my fingers from her cheek to her lips to her neck and breasts to her legs, as we both imagined my orgasm all over her. She flashed me her panties as I caressed her upper thigh.

The conversation left both of us aching for orgasm, but we continued on to her train. She left me, and after a few minutes of indecisive agony, I bought myself a ticket so that I could spend an hour riding the train with her.

When I found her on the train, she was masturbating.

She was masturbating in public, though the train was mostly empty and she was alone at her end of the car.

I snuck up and sat down beside her. After some moments of confusion, disbelief, and joy, Emma and I began to fool around, discretely, careful not to alert the other passengers to what we were doing. When our car seemed to have emptied out, I finally made Emma cum directly, in my presence, with body contact instead of just with writing and images and ideas. I knelt on the floor of the train and licked her pussy, which I was happy to recognize from the picture she sent in chapter 1.

We had thought that our car on the train was empty but it turned out a group of guys had hidden from us and watched. Emma orgasmed loudly, and then the voyeurs applauded, laughing loudly, alerting us to their presence. We left the train in embarrassment, and then Emma, intent on getting me back, sucked my cock in the deserted train station, pulling off of me at the last second to fulfil my fantasy, letting my cum spray all over her face, breasts, and thighs, and all over her gorgeous dress as she simultaneously had a second orgasm by her own fingers.

I confessed my love for her once again, and once again she gave up nothing back.

Excerpt from the end of chapter 3:

We held each other tight, holding on to the bliss that was already giving way to the shadows of our significant others; the guilt, the remorse, and the pain of wanting more than one person and not being able to give yourself to both.

And now, the final chapter:

Chapter 4

When it ended, I was furious.

And hurt. I guess mostly hurt, but furious about being so hurt.

I had never really been broken up with before.

Sure, I had liked girls before who were not interested in me. I had messed up a few budding relationships before any major feelings had developed. But this was very different.

I had never wanted a girl as much as I wanted Emma, never wanted to be with a girl as much as I wanted to be with Emma, never felt as close to a girl as I felt to Emma, and then had that girl reject me.

Emma rejected me. She rejected me for very good reasons, I can admit; but that didn't make much of a dent in the overall pain and frustration, and the fury that it caused me.

It wasn't exactly sudden, but it hurt like it was.

I will get to it gradually.

***

We had no communication for several days after that afternoon. I thought of her constantly. I was in a perpetual state of sexual arousal. In a frenzy of sexual arousal. Visions of her in that dress struck me every few seconds. My whole life was about the next moment I could spend with her.

But I didn't email. And she didn't email back. There was mutual radio silence. I suppose that for me, in between all those amorous thoughts, there was fear and guilt, and that was part of what kept me quiet. The guilt was not so much about betraying my wife's trust - that makes me an asshole, I know, I've come to terms with it and I'm trying to be a little better - what I really felt guilty about was my kids.

Emma was occupying my mind and my love almost completely, and there was just less of me available for my kids. That is what made me feel guilty, in a few brief moments of self-awareness.

But the rest of the time it was all passion. I just wanted to make Emma cum. Again and again. Every minute. Every second. I just wanted to make Emma cum.

Lying in bed, late, while everyone else slept, I just wanted to make Emma cum.

In the shower, rubbing soap all over my body, I just wanted to make Emma cum.

Eating breakfast, riding to work, analyzing data, I just wanted to make Emma cum.

At the gym, every time I looked at her, I just wanted to make Emma cum.

Every single time.

***

The next time I saw her the gym was empty.

I had arrived very early.

I had woken up very early.

I always woke up early on days that I was going to see Emma. Emma and I talked a lot about music, and on days that I expected to see her, I would wake up with songs we talked about, like "R U Mine?" by the Arctic Monkeys, and "Bruises" by Band of Skulls blaring in my head.

It was euphoria. It was deafening.

Emma was not at her desk when I came in, but the trolley of cleaning equipment was there. That trolley would have to be returned to the storage room at some point in the day. To the storage room where we had our first kiss. Ever since that first kiss, the trolley made me hard.

But no Emma yet, so I wandered over to the squat rack to start a workout, fearing the crushing disappointment I would feel if it was someone else on duty, if Emma was sick or something and didn't come to work that day.

I was half way into my second set when she burst into the room, like she so often does, vaulting the turnstile that guards against people without a pass. I sighed in happiness and my heart rate tripled. She spotted me immediately as well. My back was to her, but we made eye contact through the mirrored wall.

She started to walk towards my end of the room and I set the bar on the rack, turned, and walked towards her. With a happy smile she gestured to the empty room, and I wanted to rush to her and pick her up into a long, deep kiss, but I was aware of the security cameras that gave her colleague at the main entrance a view of the weight room.

"Can we hug... with the camera's, I mean?" I gestured to one of the cameras.

"Sure. It's not like they just sit watching the cameras all the time."

We closed the distance and I hugged her to me. It felt so good to be that close to her. I felt like I absorbed her, or absorbed into her. It was only a hug, but it was a powerful feeling. I think of it now as the 20-year hug, because I could remember only one other hug that felt so special, 20 years before.

She broke the hug. I don't think she felt what I had felt, at that moment. I laughed nervously, disconcerted.

She smiled at me. We didn't know what to do. The room was still empty. Should we just start making out right there?

I cleared my throat.

"How was your weekend?"

Emma shook her head and a momentary flash of sadness appeared on her face.

"Oh, it was crazy. It was so hard. I felt so bad, but I felt so good as well."

We looked at each other. I don't respond for a second, too distracted by desire to converse at a normal speed.

"Me too. I felt a little bad, but mostly good."

Now it was Emma's turn to take too long to respond. She smiled at me, giddy for a second and our hands stretched toward one another. I wanted another hug.

And then she frowned.

It was like that, with us. I know I've said it before but it is always hard for me to understand when I describe it, and so I imagine anyone would find it hard to understand.

The fact was, we were always on the edge. The edge between climbing all over each other, and breaking it all off. The middle ground was just the place we passed quickly through on our way from one extreme to the other. The smallest change in the balance - a moment of hesitation, a single word, a single thought - could tip us over to either side at any time.

There was so much passion and lust, and love (on my part) that we had every reason to fall into each other, but there was also so much to keep us apart. Emma bounced. The more heavily she dropped into me, the greater the force that sent her flying back upward. She bounced away from that hug in the empty gym.

"I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I am letting myself do this to him. You are... so... He doesn't deserve this."

"He doesn't know." I was short-sighted. Living in the moment.

"I love him. He loves me. He trusts me."

She was hurting, but deep in my own arousal I couldn't empathize with her real, human pain. My infatuation with Emma was making me less human. I had nothing to say that wasn't motivated by wanting to keep her.

"There is a fine line between trusting someone, and taking them for granted."

Emma paused, and looked away.

"Mike, what are we doing? Why did you do this? How can you do these things when you are married, and you say you love your wife?

"I don't know. I don't feel like I have any control when it comes to you.

She shook her head and turned away from me slightly. I thought hard for a second, trying to come to my own understanding of why I could cheat on Christie.

"Look Emma, I've been married 12 years. The relationship changes. Time, and children change things. Christie and I have a good sex life, but our relationship is a lot less about sex now than it was before we had kids. And I guess, well, when the relationship becomes less about sex, the commitment to the relationship has less to do with sex. I'm committed to her in ways that are more important to the relationship than sex is."

Emma took a while to process this.

So did I.

I realized that I had finally verbalized what I had been feeling, or not feeling, in terms of the guilt I should have felt towards Christie.

"So this is all just an adventure for you? You just want to fuck a Dutch girl?"

"No Emma, I love you."

She looked at me for a long time. I think she was wavering between saying something nice back, or slapping me.

The sound of the turnstile rotating broke our silence, and Emma turned to go to her desk, leaving me completely unsure of where we stood.

I went back to my workout, puzzling over the conversation we just had.

She thought I just wanted to fuck a Dutch girl? I was dumbfounded. She didn't believe that I loved her? How could she not believe it? I felt like it was written all over my face, my skin.

She avoided me for the rest of the time that I was there. And then when it was time for me to leave, she was talking to someone else at the other end of the gym. The trolley was still beside her desk. I needed to talk to her. I need to be with her. I needed to kiss her. I waited at her desk for her to return. She made me wait 15 minutes, and then broke my heart when she finally came.

I motioned to the trolley.

"Are you going to return that thing? I'll walk you out."

"No, you go ahead, I'll take it later."

We both knew she was rejecting me. She held my eyes with her own; defiant and stubborn. There was no changing her mind.

I left.

I just wanted to make Emma cum.

***

I had to travel for a few days, and thought about nothing but Emma the whole time. I was giving a talk about my research to a symposium at a University in Germany, and I kept thinking I saw her in the crowd.

I tried a few e-mails but she kept radio silence. She hadn't ended it, I kept thinking. But I knew she was trying to end it. Emma was refusing to believe that I loved her, to make it easier for her to end it.

There was no fucking way that I was going to let her end it thinking I didn't love her. She could end it, but not on those terms. Whatever happened, for the rest of her life I wanted her to know, without a doubt, that I loved her.

And I knew how I could prove it to her: I could write it down.

Our romance began with the written proof of my passion for her. Now I knew I could prove my love in the same way.

I started to write a larger piece than the two fantasies I had written for her before. It was more detailed, more cerebral, more emotionally intimate. It was a biography of us. It was a love letter. It was a tribute.

***

When I got back Emma tried to hide her happiness. She was still trying to end it. I watched her avoid looking at me. I just wanted to make Emma cum.

I wouldn't let her go. I chatted with her. I flirted mildly, I cracked a couple of jokes, and she finally smiled. My heart soared. But she bounced. Her face got cold, and then warm again, she laughed at one flirty comment and walked away from another. She was a mess of conflicting emotions.

And then she notified me of our impending doom. She was going on a trip to Italy with her boyfriend later in the month. Two weeks in Venice. It was the perfect time to end it. She was escaping to Venice.

We looked at each other for a long time, silent.

They were leaving in ten days. I had ten days left. Did she feel we had ten days left?

"That will be when it ends for us, I guess." I was so sad. I just wanted to make Emma cum.

"It think it's already over Mike."

She was wrong. I was writing something that she would love. It wasn't confidence or cockiness that made me know it wasn't over yet, it was a feeling of destiny. I don't believe in destiny, but I know that the feeling that something is inevitable is very real. That feeling is evidence-based. It's subconscious. It comes from a wiser part of us.

I felt it.

We would touch again.

I got a little emotional for a second, overcome.

"You're so beautiful."

I saw intense feelings play across her face, but she stayed silent.

"I've been writing again." I surprised her. Her sudden excitement showed and then was squelched as she tried to control herself.

"You wrote another fantasy?" She swallowed.

"I wrote more than a fantasy. I wrote about us. I wrote about everything about us. It's about how I feel about you, and it's about how things developed between us. I had this idea that I could write the story around those e-mail fantasies. The story is kind of about how that writing acted as such a catalyst between us."

"That's a cool idea." Emma struggled to sound like it was only polite, platonic interest.

"It's not done yet, but when it is I want you to read it. You inspire me. The way I write for you...it's exciting to me both physically and mentally. I'm really proud of the way I write for you. You're my muse."

She broke just a little bit. "Mike, I want to, but I shouldn't read it."

"You won't have to get it from me. I never even have to know you've read it. I will post it on a website for erotic fiction. You could read it anonymously, and I would never have to know. Maybe that's a way for me to keep you as my muse, but to keep it from being direct flirtation."

Emma liked the idea.

"I could even just wait until you moved away from the Netherlands before I read it."

"Well, I'm here for another two years. But I mean, if you could wait that long, you could wait and read it after I left."

We both knew she would not wait that long.

"We'll see," she said, and walked away.

I watched her incredible ass. I just wanted to make Emma cum.

***

It took agonizing days to finish it. I wanted it to be so good, but everything that I wanted to express didn't fit perfectly into a single, tight story. I wanted Emma to love it, but I also wanted everyone in the world to love it. And I was running out of time. I needed Emma to see it before she left for Venice. I wrote it as chapter 1. I called it A Glorious Tease.

It was accepted by Literotica.com and made available to the public over the weekend. On the following Tuesday it had over 10 thousand hits, and was rated 4.6 out of 5 stars. I told Emma immediately upone seeing her, arriving at the gym early the first Tuesday after I submitted it. It was her last day of work before her trip.

"I posted the story. It's called 'A Glorious Tease'. People really seem to like it."

The gym was mostly empty. Emma asked me for the address and typed it into her computer.

"Are you going to read it right now!?" I was shocked and excited that she would go to an erotic website at work, in public. I think my voice cracked when I asked.

"No, I just want to find it, then I will read it later."

She found it.

"Here it is. iksanabot... I'm...I'm just going to read the first few lines."

She started reading and I watched her. A minute passed and she was still reading. Suddenly she looked up at me.

"It's really good."

"Thanks."

She looked around.

"I guess I can keep reading, it's not busy. But you can't stand there the whole time."