Chapter 4

My euphoria at our change of status gradually faded. Since we were living apart, not even in the same city, it was difficult to hold on to 'this is a relationship'. I can't speak for Emma. She seems to have the ability to focus very tightly on something and I think her degree occupied most – if not all – of her attention when we were apart. Communication was mainly by brief emails, though the language was at least affectionate. We agreed that, since the Easter break was only a few weeks ahead, she would concentrate on working (though she would go home to see her father alternate weekends and support her mother) in order to spend time with me during the break.

Come the holiday, I met her at the station. I might not have recognised her, dressed as she was in a figure-hugging top and slacks that emphasised her slim figure, and a dark green beret at a jaunty angle on her head, but she spotted me, ran up to me and administered a rib-crushing hug. We kissed and took a taxi home. As we travelled, she snuggled up to me and I wrapped my arm round her. She smiled brilliantly at me. "I'm so happy to be here."

My own smile was as inevitable as the sunrise. "I'm very happy too."

When we arrived at the house, there was a moment's awkwardness as we stood in the kitchen and looked at each other. "Um ... I've got a curry in the oven for supper," I said, "was there anything you wanted to do until then? I hadn't got past meeting you at the station and getting you back here."

She grinned – I'd have to say 'cheekily'. "Well..." she drawled, "I thought we could just sit and cuddle and pretend to watch a film..."

That sounded ... rather an attractive idea – except ... It's like this. I knew I was her first boyfriend. Okay. She was refreshingly ... innocent. I knew that I was the first man not of her family to kiss her, so ... duh ... virgin? Was she ready for something more than necking on the sofa? Because if I spent two or three hours snogging with her, I was definitely going to want to do more. My response was delayed long enough for her to notice and her face fell.

"Great idea," I said with more enthusiasm than I wanted to have. I mean, I did want to, but... "shall I make some tea while you're finding something to pretend to watch?"

She bounced over the two paces between us, grabbed my head and fastened her lips on mine. "Okay!"

What would you think a woman in her early twenties would want to 'pretend to watch' while kissing the boyfriend? Love Actually? Sleepless in Seattle? How about Star Trek – TNG? Yes, really. Remember, Emma's a physicist, and she got into that because she'd been fascinated by science fiction from an early age. I knew she liked SF, because she worked her way through part of my collection back when. But I did have a few romantic films too.

Anyway, three episodes with Jean-Luc Picard and I had to get up to boil rice and warm pita bread. Our clothes were loose and I at least was pretty worked up. Come to that, Emma was flushed too.

We washed the curry down with bottles of Kronenbourg and finished off with ice-cream. It wasn't late when we finished eating – barely eight o'clock, so I said. "Okay – what now? More Star Trek? Or something else?"

"It's been kind of a long day," she said. "I think I'm ready for bed. After a shower, at least."

"Oh." I felt disappointment – I'd been looking forward to some more cuddling. "Okay, love."

She left the room, I picked up a book, and shortly after I heard the faint sounds of the shower – mainly just water in the pipes and the faint gurgle of the drain. Those noises stopped, then there was the faint creaking of someone moving around upstairs. It's an old house. I keep it fairly well maintained, but inevitably there's some movement in the woodwork. But the noises were from my bedroom, which is over the lounge. Of course, it wouldn't be the first time we'd shared a bed and perhaps she was taking it for granted we'd do that. Silence for a while – perhaps ten minutes – then more faint creaks and the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Emma was wearing a negligée that left little to the imagination.

I said she was slim. She was also in no way athletic. Apart from walks, she got little exercise, so what flesh there was on her was fairly soft. Those little breasts drooped noticeably. But her nipples, dark behind the sheer material, would have been noticeable anyway because of the way they were tenting the material. Another dark patch indicated her bush. She posed. You know, that hip cocked, hand on hip bit? She looked awkward. Lovely, but awkward. It was obvious she hadn't done anything like it much before, if at all.

"I, er ... felt a bit lonely in bed," she said.

"Come here, Sweetie," I said, patting my leg.

She walked across the room, swinging her hips. Again, it looked contrived and stiff. But she sat carefully on my lap and wrapped an arm round my shoulders. She felt stiff.

"You okay, Sweetie?" I asked, holding her loosely.

The stiffness disappeared and she went limp. She buried her face in the valley between my neck and shoulder and began to shake. I was at a loss. So I did the easiest thing, which was to just hold her and keep quiet.

"I don't know what to do," she said, her voice muffled.

I had been stroking her back unconsciously and tightened my hold, moving my hand up to her neck, which I caressed.

"Oh, Gerry," she went on, "I don't know how to be a girlfriend."

"I don't think there're rules about it," I soothed. "You just need to be yourself. After all, it's you I'm falling in love with."

She didn't react to that immediately, but after snuggling in my embrace for several minutes, she said, "Did you just say you're falling in love with me?"

"Why, yes – I do believe I did. Because I am."

"Oh, my..." She pulled away a bit, twisted, and laid a hand on each of my shoulders so she could look into my eyes. "Gerry, I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, when you came to visit Lilac. I didn't think you'd ever be interested in me, even if I'd wanted to take you away from her. Then, when she died ... there was a sort of connection, but I just wanted to be with you as much as I could, though..."

I silenced her with a kiss. When I broke it, she opened her mouth to start talking again, but I laid a finger on her lips to silence her. "Sweetie, just believe you are loveable just as you are, and I want you to be happy, okay?"

We sat there, just like that; Emma was more relaxed and I enjoyed the feel of her against me and her warmth. After a while the situation began to have an inevitable effect, which Emma could feel. She wriggled in my lap. "I am happy," she said, thoughtfully, "or perhaps content would be better nearer. There's just one thing..."

"Oh?"

"It seems," she wriggled again, which was slightly uncomfortable, "that you really do think I'm desirable..."

"My God, yes, you are."

"What I was saying ... not knowing how to be a girlfriend ... I want ... for you ... to make love to me. I just don't know what to do. I mean, in theory, yes, but..." She broke off and pulled away enough so she could look into my eyes. "You do want to, don't you?"

What could I say? "Of course I do, desperately. But it's kind of a big thing for a girl, isn't it?"

She shrugged. "Before I met you I never really thought about it. Since you mention it, though, I can't think of anyone I'd rather have for my first time." She wriggled again, and I was getting really uncomfortable. "So... ?"

"So ... I know you just had a shower, but I could do with one myself and I think if you were to help me it would be a great place to start."

"In the shower?"

"In the shower." I waved to indicate she should precede me up the stairs.

"Such a gentleman." She giggled.

"No," I told her, "I just want to follow you upstairs so I can watch you."

She turned, her foot on the bottom step, her jaw dropped. Suddenly, she closed the space between us and kissed me – hard. Then turned and started up the stairs, with an exaggerated wiggle of her bottom. She turned right at the top for the bathroom, but I turned left to do what I usually do – that is, undress in the bedroom. When she realised, she followed me in and watched as I stripped off. Now, don't get me wrong ... you won't see me featured in a beefcake mag, I just don't have the build, but I am comfortable in my skin and I had no problem in being naked with her, particularly in view of what we were – I hoped – going to be doing after the shower.

The same was not true of Emma. She stood, frozen, looking at me. "You don't have to do this," I told her.

She shook her head – her short, dark, curly hair barely moved – and quickly jerked the negligée off over her head, then stood again, trembling slightly. I said she was slim. So she was, but not skinny. Her bones were covered by a layer of soft flesh. Those little breasts sagged slightly, maybe enough to hold that pencil, and her nipples, about the thickness of a pencil, looked about half an inch long, sticking out like little gun barrels.

She had trimmed her bush; I don't know why, she never said, and later she let it grow back again. I never minded either way. But what she'd done revealed her pussy, with large inner lips protruding. Oh, and those legs; tapered and ... how's the saying? All the way to the ground.

If I'd seen her picture in a magazine or on the internet without knowing her, I'd have skimmed over it without a thought, but this was Emma. I stepped forward and held out my hand. "Come on, gorgeous."

Her hand was trembling as she placed it in mine and I led the way to the bathroom. She washed me, and her hands were still trembling, her touch a little clumsy; yet, somehow it was incredibly arousing. I mean, I was hard when we started anyway, but before we'd done in the shower I was almost in pain. After I was rinsed off, she pressed those little titties against me, the nipples boring into my chest. "I've been doing some research," she said, huskily, "but you'll have to tell me if I've got it right..." then knelt in front of me in the stream of water and inhaled my cock.

Well.

The combination of the previous several hours and the shock of her completely unexpected initiative meant I came, hard, seconds later. She choked and pulled away so she got a couple of shots in the face. I sagged back against the wall.

"My God," I gasped.

She wiped her face with her hands in the stream and stood, nervously. "Was that okay?"

Seriously ... that's what she asked.

I took her face in my hands and kissed her. Yes, I could taste myself – or, at least, something different than before. "If it was any better, you'd have been calling an ambulance," I told her. "Come on, let's get dry and I'll show my appreciation."

Drying off was almost as nice as the shower, though without the oral bit. It was Emma who led the way to the bedroom, where she threw back the duvet and lay back with her legs spread and reached up with open arms. Ever been to a really fancy buffet where it was hard to choose what to pick first? I think Emma was expecting me to climb on and, well, stick it in, but I wasn't going to resist three other attractions. Those nipples were in the middle of puffy areolae and I joyfully sucked on them in turn. Judging by the sounds Emma was making, she appreciated that. But then I turned my attention to her pussy. By that time, her nether lips were engorged and I licked and sucked on them for a while before dipping my tongue into her honey pot. Honey it was for sure and I could have kept on with that for much longer.

My hair isn't long, but Emma managed to get a grip on it and pull my head up so my tongue contacted her clit. That was fun, too. She was so roused by that point that she was coming almost immediately and I licked her through another couple of orgasms before moving up to penetrate her for the first time. Make that... try to penetrate her. I couldn't do it. Not only was her hymen rather strong, it was clearly hurting her. I wilted.

She pushed me off onto my back and leaned over to kiss me before taking me in her mouth again to restore my erection. To my horror, she then straddled me, held my penis vertical, positioned herself and dropped.

Her cry of pain went straight to my heart.

But I was in her to the hilt. Her eyes were screwed tight shut and fat tears squeezed out from under her eyelids. Neither of us moved for several minutes, but then she reached down and caressed my cheek. "It's alright," she said, shakily.

"Oh, Emma..."

"It's okay, Gerry. This is what I wanted and it's easier already." Then she began to move, adjusting her angle experimentally. I could tell when she came again. There were several indications, like her expression and her rigid posture, but the most significant was the feel of her vagina gripping me. I came again. It probably wasn't an enormous amount, but it felt like a fountain.

Then she manoeuvred herself so she was laid on top of me, her legs spread, and kissed me passionately. All good things come to an end, and being as tall as she was, she couldn't rest her head on my chest, so we rolled together until we were facing each other on our sides. She reached back and pulled the duvet over us, and we slept like that.

When I woke, I looked into a pair of enormous, dark blue, eyes, which looked worried.

"Hello, beautiful," I said. A smile spread across her face like the sun rising. "Will you marry me?"

She looked shocked. "You don't have to do that."

"Well, if you don't want to..."

"Oh, I do. But I don't want to trap you. I didn't think you'd want to marry me."

"Emma, I told you I loved you. You've given me perhaps the most precious gift you could. I just want to have you in my life for ... well, forever."

"How is this going to work? You know I want ... I need ... to complete my degree..."

"Of course. I'll rent a place in Cambridge and let this house. I can do what I do in Cambridge as well as here. But you've never answered my question."

"Yes, Gerry. I'll marry you." She frowned. After a pause, "Gerry, it would please my father if you were to ask him for my hand, you know, the traditional bit."

I had no hesitation there. "Tomorrow? I'll book a car today, and we can drive from your parents to Ipswich so you can meet mine."

She held me close. "Perfect. Gerry, I'd really like you to make love to me again, but I'm sore, I'm afraid. I'm sorry."

"'s okay," I said, "we've got the rest of our lives. Mind you, I'd have liked to go again, too."

We cuddled a little longer before getting up. A shower was necessary. So was changing the sheets.

Of all the things I might have expected to do with a young woman, the industrial museum would not have been among them. Emma explained to me as we walked round the various processes involved in making steel – crucible, Bessemer, more modern techniques. We watched the 'little Mesters' working in the workshops that are part of the museum and wondered what would happen if the elderly men couldn't find apprentices to take their place in the future.

And we walked around, hand in hand, just aware of each other. Of course, I found time to book a rental car and Emma rang her parents, who were ... very surprised ... when she said she wanted them to meet her boyfriend. "I haven't said anything about you before," she said. "I couldn't believe ... you know ... we were going to be ... like this. I don't know how Dad will be."

She sounded uncertain. "D'you think he'll be difficult?" I asked, reaching out to stroke her cheek.

She shrugged. "I really don't know. I'm Daddy's little girl ... y'know?"

We walked to a nearby Chinese restaurant for our supper and made inroads into a bottle of wine. Emma was a little giggly and unsteady as we made our way home.

I wasn't expecting anything other than sleep when we fell into bed, but Emma was happily amorous and I was more than happy to co-operate. We didn't spend a lot of time on foreplay. In some ways, the whole day had been foreplay ... yes, even the museum, with constant touching and affectionate words. I was a little worried as she pulled me on top of her, but she was wet and ready and I slid in – not easily, she was too tight, but certainly without pain. I set, and she matched, a leisurely pace, supported on my elbows. Our heights being so well matched it was easy to kiss and with some effort, to bend myself to suck and nibble on those proud nipples. Perhaps it was the wine, or just confidence, but Emma's stiffness was gone and we moved together in a gentle harmony of physical love.

There was no rush in the morning; Emma's parents wouldn't be at home until about six in the evening, so the day started the way we'd have liked the previous one, with making love. Emma rode me to a mutually satisfactory conclusion. In her case, several conclusions. A shower ... together, of course ... longer than I would usually take ... much longer ... and breakfast, followed by a tram ride and a walk to the Avis depot.

I found that Emma was interested in everything. Having plenty of time, we took the opportunity to explore various places on our way. The first was the Cresswell Caves visitor centre. Sadly the caves are not open to the general public; they contain prehistoric wall art. By the time we'd finished there we were feeling peckish again and it was past midday, so we drove on to Ollerton Crossroads, where there's a small café in a shed next to some open heathland. I suppose it would be called a transport café, but it's a friendly little place with simple, well-cooked food. Suitably refreshed, we went on a few miles to Rufford Park. Once the site of a monastery which was dissolved by Henry the eighth it is now administered as a country park by Nottinghamshire County Council. We walked around the sculpture park, got ourselves a snack in the café, and got back on the road.