The Mammoth Book of Erotica Presents The Best of Saskia Walker by Saskia Walker
Authors: Saskia Walker
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Luke had set down the bag he held and put his hand out to me. “You’ve grown up,” he said under his breath and looked at me with an appraising stare that made me feel hot all over.
I managed to put my hand in his. He held it tightly, drawing me closer in against him. I looked up into his wickedly suggestive eyes, and it made my pussy clench.
My mother disapproved of him.
Why had his wife thrown him out?
she demanded of my dad, when Luke was out of the house. Dad wouldn’t answer. I made up my own reasons, fantasies that featured me in a starring role. Maybe he left his wife for a hot younger woman, me. The truth was that Luke moving in had made something shift in my world. He was a man, a real man. Sex with him wouldn’t be like the fumbling bad sex I’d had with a guy I met at college. As soon as I saw Luke, I knew that it wouldn’t feel like that, not with him. Sex would be exciting, maybe even kinky. The idea of it fascinated me.
Luke wasn’t what you’d call handsome, but he was attractive in a bad boy sort of a way. Tall and leanly muscled, his body suggested athletic vigor. His features were craggy, his hair cut close to his head. He had a maverick quality about him that appealed to the dark side of my imagination. At night I’d lie in my bed and imagine there was no wall between our rooms and that I could reach out and touch his body. I’d imagine him responding. He’d climb over me and screw me into the bed, teaching me what it was like to be fucked by a real man.
During the day when he was out I would go into his room and touch his things. Sometimes I even lay down on his bed. I would close my eyes and breath him in, getting high on the smell of his body and his expensive cologne, the experience building up a frenzy of longing inside me. What if he walked in and found me there? The idea of being caught by him made it even worse. Sometimes I’d push my hand inside my jeans and press my panties into the seam of my pussy, massaging my clit for relief.
Then my parents went away for a fortnight, leaving me in Luke’s care. Oh, the irony. If only they had known how much the idea of it excited me.
It was our first night alone, and I had been thinking about him all evening, barely aware of the blockbuster movie I’d gone to see with my friends. I wanted to get home, to see if Luke was there.
But now he had a woman in there with him, and that woman wasn’t me.
I was intensely curious, and it struck me that I was getting hot just thinking about him having sex, even if it wasn’t me he was having it with. The push-pull reaction of the unexpected situation had me on edge. Torn, I glanced at my bedroom door. He probably thought I was in there, asleep. Like a good girl. I looked back at his doorway and saw a shadow move across the room beyond.
His shadow.
I couldn’t walk away.
Luckily I hadn’t switched the landing light on. I was glad of the darkness, glad that I was standing in the gloom and that his door was open and I could see into his room. I’d had a couple of beers earlier. That probably helped, too. I stepped farther along the landing, until I could see him.
He had his shirt off. I’d seen him seminaked before, in the kitchen in the mornings. He’d have a towel round his waist, his body still damp and gleaming from the shower. I managed to muster up an early morning conversation so I could watch him pouring out coffee, stirring in three teaspoons of sugar as he chatted to me easily, watching me all the while. Watching me in a way that made my body feel womanly and alive. That’s what he’d done to me; he’d made me feel alive. And although I remember saying something in response to his early morning conversations, it wasn’t what I was thinking. What I was thinking was X-rated. I wanted him to bend me over the breakfast bar and introduce me to real sex.
The woman was sitting back on his bed, and he had his knees pressed against hers. As I watched, he bent over her and
Luke had set down the bag he held and put his hand out to me. “You’ve grown up,” he said under his breath and looked at me with an appraising stare that made me feel hot all over.
I managed to put my hand in his. He held it tightly, drawing me closer in against him. I looked up into his wickedly suggestive eyes, and it made my pussy clench.
My mother disapproved of him.
Why had his wife thrown him out?
she demanded of my dad, when Luke was out of the house. Dad wouldn’t answer. I made up my own reasons, fantasies that featured me in a starring role. Maybe he left his wife for a hot younger woman, me. The truth was that Luke moving in had made something shift in my world. He was a man, a real man. Sex with him wouldn’t be like the fumbling bad sex I’d had with a guy I met at college. As soon as I saw Luke, I knew that it wouldn’t feel like that, not with him. Sex would be exciting, maybe even kinky. The idea of it fascinated me.
Luke wasn’t what you’d call handsome, but he was attractive in a bad boy sort of a way. Tall and leanly muscled, his body suggested athletic vigor. His features were craggy, his hair cut close to his head. He had a maverick quality about him that appealed to the dark side of my imagination. At night I’d lie in my bed and imagine there was no wall between our rooms and that I could reach out and touch his body. I’d imagine him responding. He’d climb over me and screw me into the bed, teaching me what it was like to be fucked by a real man.
During the day when he was out I would go into his room and touch his things. Sometimes I even lay down on his bed. I would close my eyes and breath him in, getting high on the smell of his body and his expensive cologne, the experience building up a frenzy of longing inside me. What if he walked in and found me there? The idea of being caught by him made it even worse. Sometimes I’d push my hand inside my jeans and press my panties into the seam of my pussy, massaging my clit for relief.
Then my parents went away for a fortnight, leaving me in Luke’s care. Oh, the irony. If only they had known how much the idea of it excited me.
It was our first night alone, and I had been thinking about him all evening, barely aware of the blockbuster movie I’d gone to see with my friends. I wanted to get home, to see if Luke was there.
But now he had a woman in there with him, and that woman wasn’t me.
I was intensely curious, and it struck me that I was getting hot just thinking about him having sex, even if it wasn’t me he was having it with. The push-pull reaction of the unexpected situation had me on edge. Torn, I glanced at my bedroom door. He probably thought I was in there, asleep. Like a good girl. I looked back at his doorway and saw a shadow move across the room beyond.
His shadow.
I couldn’t walk away.
Luckily I hadn’t switched the landing light on. I was glad of the darkness, glad that I was standing in the gloom and that his door was open and I could see into his room. I’d had a couple of beers earlier. That probably helped, too. I stepped farther along the landing, until I could see him.
He had his shirt off. I’d seen him seminaked before, in the kitchen in the mornings. He’d have a towel round his waist, his body still damp and gleaming from the shower. I managed to muster up an early morning conversation so I could watch him pouring out coffee, stirring in three teaspoons of sugar as he chatted to me easily, watching me all the while. Watching me in a way that made my body feel womanly and alive. That’s what he’d done to me; he’d made me feel alive. And although I remember saying something in response to his early morning conversations, it wasn’t what I was thinking. What I was thinking was X-rated. I wanted him to bend me over the breakfast bar and introduce me to real sex.
The woman was sitting back on his bed, and he had his knees pressed against hers. As I watched, he bent over her and
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