Chapter 4

Trying to ignore his throbbing dick, which wasn't easy, Bob listened as Emily explained about her dating frustrations and the reasoning behind her sending him anonymous erotic letters.

He wondered what the odds were that she would be the one to send him the letters, and then end up being his date.

When she ran out of steam and looked even more embarrassed ... not to mention cuter than ever, (not that he would tell her she looked cute. In his experience, telling a woman she was cute was a disaster waiting to happen), he said, "You have a wonderful imagination. I like your style."

"Thank you." She licked her lips. "You don't think I'm weird, then?"

He shook his head. "You're the most interesting woman I've ever met. And I'd like to ravish you here and now. Unfortunately, that's not practical."

"It sounds nice, though."

"Yes, it does. So, here's what I suggest. Why don't we finish our meal and then go to my place for coffee and dessert. Mrs. Wheeler, my neighbor who is old enough to be my grandmother, keeps me supplied with homemade cakes and pies. And just as I was about to leave to meet you this evening, she delivered a chocolate angel-food cake."

"Okay."

"By the way," he added, as he picked up the familiar envelope and shoved it in his jacket pocket, where it seemed to burn and send currents to his already excited dick, "I recognized your blouse."

Looking a bit sheepish she said, "I didn't even think of that."

"Honestly, though, if it wasn't for the buttons, I would have remained clueless."

"My sister made them. She also made the blouse for me."

Smiling, he asked about her family and they spent the rest of the time pleasantly sharing and getting to know each other.

Much to her relief, Emily managed to get through dinner without feeling nauseated or doing anything else that was embarrassing and by the time they reached Bob's apartment she was looking forward to being alone with him; and was excited by the possibilities of what might happen during the time she was with him.

When they stepped inside his apartment, the first thing she noticed was the wall-to-wall bookshelves on one side of the living room and, book lover that she was, she drifted over to check out the books. They were all hardcovers. Most of them were non-fiction biographies and WWII and Civil War histories. The rest were mysteries.

She was looking at a first edition Rex Stout, waiting for Bob to return with the coffee and cake, when he came up behind her and slid his arms around her. Nuzzling her neck he mumbled, "I have to be honest. I'm not really interested in coffee and cake right now."

His kisses sent tingles all through her, making it difficult to return the book to the shelf. Once her hands were free, she turned so she was facing him. Wrapping her arms around him she pressed her lips against his.

Groaning softly, he opened his mouth and slid his tongue against hers, matching her stroke for stroke. His hands slid over her buttocks, which he gently squeezed.

Dreamy volts of heat, which all seemed to settle in her center, coursed through Emily's body, and she moaned into his mouth, as her hips gyrated and rubbed against his hardness.

Nothing she'd ever read or written could have prepared for the tide of zeal and pleasure sweeping over her ... especially for the sudden overwhelming desire to bear his offspring, which she expressed in a single gasp, "I want to have your babies."

He was sucking on her ear lobe and didn't miss a beat, as he whispered, "How many?"

"Hundreds."

Laughing, he began kissing her face all over, as he guided her into the bedroom.

Bob's dick felt harder than he could ever remember it being, but in spite of his yearning to fill her with his child, he wanted to slow things down. Had he been asked, he would not have been able to explain it. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Emily onto his lap. He then reached inside his jacket pocket and placed the letter she'd given him in her hand.

"Read this to me," he said softly, and kissed her cheek.

Her hands trembling, she opened the envelope and took out the letter; and as she read, her voice changed so that she sounded as she probably sounded when she was a teenager.