Emma turned back to look into the mirror, posing her left side. The thick swell of her ass lifted the silky negligee she had draped over her firm body, her breasts holding the sheer nighty away from her, causing it to hang lightly in front of her firm tummy.
She was super critical of her body, as any serious dancer would be, but especially so when she had the chance to try on a garment as seriously sexy as this. She lifted the hem up over her hips, checking out the fit of the panties. Little of them was visible from this angle, the thong, running snugly up her ass crack was completely hidden by the solid muscle of her cheeks. She focused on the tight fabric strip against her anus, and shivered in excitement. There was little of the garment to cover her treasure, but the swell of her bush filled what there was.
Emma ran her palm down over it now. The smoothness of her bush gave her a small thrill, none of the coarseness most girls her age had grown into. It almost matched the silky locks which hung down to her shoulder blades. She had toyed with the idea of shaving it, thought about it a lot when she saw the other dancers with their baby-smooth pubic mound, but Mom would be furious if she were to dare. Besides, she'd always felt kind of proud of her hairy pussy.
In high school, she had sprouted before most of the other girls, and though it was a little embarrassing, being different and all, it was also about becoming a woman. Her classmates teased her a little about being furry, but she could see the envy when they glanced between her legs in the shower or the locker room. In college she was still in the minority, but it didn't bother her, she was seldom naked around anybody else anyway.
Now she appraised the rest of her body. Though her breasts hadn't really become all that she hoped, they also grew early. She was one of the first of her class into a bra, and with the growth came the sensitivity. One night, on a sleepover just after her 18th birthday, one of her close friends had asked a bunch of questions about her development, and asked if she could touch her nipples. Emma had felt something along the lines of what an orgasm would bring her when the girl had pinched one, and she had very tentatively asked her if she wanted to lick it.
When the girl's lips had touched the nipple, Emma had shuddered with the thrill, and the girl, Sandy, had sucked it into her soft lips, and begun to stroke it with her tongue. Emma didn't know it, but that had been her first orgasm. She thought that she'd been so scared that she'd peed in her pajamas. Sandy was pretty well known now to be into girls, and Emma kind of hoped to run into her sometime, maybe continue her lesson in bisexuality. A girl licking her pussy? She could feel an instant moistening.
Now whenever she felt the tingle of sexual excitement stir her, her nipples betrayed her even as her vagina would secretly moisten her soft cotton panties.
Emma always felt a little thrill when Mrs. Martin asked her to dogsit, or help around the house. Often she got a chance to be alone after the kids were asleep, and had a chance to play a little adult dress-up. Stephanie had a pretty full collection of lingerie; teddies, camisoles, panties... and Emma would take off her jeans or shorts, and her top, then take her time stripping off her bra, watching her nipples harden, and slowly dance her way out of her panties. Then slip on something sexy that slid between her toned legs, up across her pussy, and slipped up her crack, tickling her anus and turning her on. Often she'd have to do a load of laundry before the Martins returned, just to freshen up the panties. And knowing that she would be cleaning her juice from the crotch, and had to do laundry anyway, she'd go ahead and try on a few others, and would invariably slip a finger between her swollen labia, and up into her tight canal, and find her way to a delicious orgasm, while laying on their bed.
She favored his side of the bed, thrilling in cumming where he slept, where he fucked his wife. She fantasized about him smelling the cum she'd left on his sheets as his cock hardened, and about him taking out the arousal she caused on his wife. The last time, as she shuddered there, with her legs in the air, she'd licked some of the sticky ooze from her finger, then swiped it between her fat pussy lips and wiped it across his pillow. That brought a thrill that drew her hands back to the wet mess between her legs, and grew to another, even more intense, orgasm.
She knew a lot about him, about his cock and his favorite pleasures. Sometimes, after a little wine, Steph would confide in her about their sex life, about his secrets. She knew that he liked to be stroked, lightly, down under his balls, that he still loved hand jobs. She knew about the blowjobs that his wife would give him, tonguing his slit, tickling him as he shot his load into her mouth. Oooh, how awesome would that be, to control him like that. Stephanie told her about how he'd molest her in his sleep, kissing her deeply and fucking her hard in the middle of the night, as though he was fucking a stranger, or some unknown taboo. How he'd fuck her in so many ways, always reaching deep inside, always cumming in her canal. Emma liked to fantasize that it was her that he thought of, that he came picturing himself fucking the tall teenager with the rock hard ass.
Emma longed to feel the same, feel loved or used or like a slut, just feel it. Mostly she longed to have him between her legs, licking her through that dark hair, toying with her, tongue fucking her. Stephanie told her how he'd stay down there forever, licking and sucking and flicking her clit, sometimes lifting her ass to reach below, down deeper in her crack. She never really said, but Emma knew that he was licking around her asshole. She shuddered, omg, could you imagine?
So Emma had a plan, and she was going to use it tonight.
She was going to tear up the note that Stephanie had written, telling him that she was away for the night. Telling him that Emma was sleeping in their bed, and he should sleep in the extra room. She was going to wear the sexiest sheerest piece of lingerie that she could find, and this was it. She saw the bottle of perfume on the dresser, and sniffed it. Mmm, it smelled like sex to her, and it smelled like his wife. She sprayed it on her finger, and dabbed it behind her ear, stroked a line between her breasts. Now she'd smell like her too, in the darkness of the bedroom. In the bed where he'd crawl in next to her, and want to fuck her. Even if it was because of her deception.
But she was sure that he'd be fooled. He was out partying with his friends, and she knew he'd have a few beers. He wouldn't notice her height between the sheets, he'd just get close enough to smell her, feel her, want her, and take her. Want her like she wanted him.
She ached to feel a cock in her, that was the only way to explain it. When her friends told her about their experiences, their first blowjobs, spending the night with a boy, being penetrated for the first time, she felt frustration and longing. She was ready! She'd been ready! But every time she got close, it turned out awkward and fell apart. She had to admit, that she was the one to back out almost every time.