I had words with myself after camp and I'd continued to do so after my rendezvous with Emma in the garage. I'd told myself that it was just a phase that I'd grow out of, that I could stop if I was strong enough. All I had to do was just think about all those that would get hurt, all those I was responsible for, and I would be able to just stop things with Emma and go on with my life.
But I wasn't strong. And I couldn't stop.
After a hasty meeting at school the following Tuesday, I arrange to pick up Emma on a quiet street not too far from the gates to take a drive out of the town and towards the country. I'd expected her to go down on me as I drove, such was my thinking that all we would ever really do is be naughty together, but instead we have a pleasant conversation about her studies and what she was thinking of doing after. It's perhaps the reminder I need that this young woman isn't just someone for me to fuck, an escape from an increasingly mundane life, but something more.
Even with those thoughts, we still park up off a quiet road and jump into the back seat together, her skirt hitched up, her panties pulled aside and, most importantly, my cock inside of her. There's not a great deal of room in my modest car and no angle feels right, but that doesn't matter to either of us. All I care about is how she feels with her hands pressed hard against my back and how she cries out my name into my ear when I hit just the right spot.
It's over far too soon. I have jobs to do at home, and she doesn't want to worry her family. After we've both cum, we clean ourselves up and then head back to town. To make sure we're not seen by her parents I park on the street next to hers.
"So, when can I see you next?" she asks me, hand on the door handle and pretty face looking at me expectantly.
"I'm... not sure. I want to though, don't get me wrong. We just need to find the right time. Honestly, I'm tired of being so on edge with you Em. Like, we've not done anything yet where there hasn't been substantial risk. But we'll work something out, ok?"
Previously I'm sure she would have pouted and perhaps come to my home wearing nothing but lingerie under a raincoat. But this time she just smiles, squeezes my hand and leaves the vehicle.
In that instant I'm taken back almost twenty years to when I dropped off the girl I was going to marry outside her parents house. We'd kissed briefly in the car, me and Kate, and I remember watching her walk up to the door with the same light feeling inside of me as I feel now for Emma. That something special was brewing between us.
The only real difference is that when I watch Emma scoot down the street, I'm also wondering whether my cum was still trailing down her inner thigh.
Despite knowing our contact with one another should be limited, we still swap numbers. Messages are sent when we're alone and when we know it's safe. Even still, she's in my contacts as 'Kevin' - a friend who apparently likes to send me pictures of a pussy with a vibrator inside of it, and a friend I apparently like to send pictures of my hard cock with a pair of white panties wrapped around it - apparently Kevin thinks they look familiar.
It's almost a week since our time in my car and the need for each other is getting more obvious as the messages we share get more lewd. After Kate goes to bed on the Sunday night I go out to the garage and call Emma and we spend ten minutes whispering what we'd do to the other until we both cum.
"Fuck I really need to see you," she pants down the line. "Can you do Tuesday again if I can do something to make sure we're alone?"
I'd have to tell a lie to Kate to get away but at this point I can't go any longer without touching Emma again. I hastily agree.
"Leave it with me. I'll have 'Kevin' confirm that it's okay and tell you where to go." She says with a chuckle before hanging up.
The next day and a half drag and I find myself constantly checking my phone to see whether Emma has been in touch with her plans, so much so that Kate chastises me on Monday night for being more interested in the screen beside me than the film we're watching. I make an excuse that I'm checking football scores and then remind her that I'll be out seeing a film tomorrow night anyway, making sure my excuse is all set with her.
I went to bed still checking my phone, still hoping for a message. I refrain from badgering her, hoping that she wants this as much as I do still. It's a thought that plagues me as I finally shut off the screen and turn around to cuddle my wife, feeling dreadful that I'm finding comfort from her body considering what I am planning and what I've done.
When I wake up there's a message, sent just after I'd finally gone to sleep.
"Come to mine after work. I'll have the house to myself."
That thought alone gets me hard, and my shower takes a little longer as I masturbate to the thought of what we will be doing, wondering how long the two of us will have together. So far everything has been rushed, and while all of it has felt incredibly hot, I'm curious to know what it will feel like to take my time with Emma.
The work day drags and drags. I barely focus on my teaching, and when I'm on my break I spend it texting Emma and telling her how much I'm looking forward to seeing her. It's torture waiting, and when the final bell rings at the end of the day I think I'm as excited as the students to leave. I quickly pack up my things after having a quick wash in a bathroom before I rush to get to hers.
I park near where we'd parked the week before and walk the rest of the way on foot. I'm nervous as I walk down the quiet street, knowing that this was something new and altogether more dangerous. When I reach her house I ring the doorbell and glance around nervously as I wait for her to answer, wondering if there's anyone local that might recognise a teacher waiting to enter a student's home. Thankfully the wait is short, Emma opening the door with a smile and quickly beckoning me in to a small hallway with a set of stairs leading up to the first floor behind her.
