Emily Part 2.
Emily told me we first met when she was fifteen at the time of Sally
and Adam’s wedding. I told her I didn’t remember her. Emily said she
was not surprised since I was quite tipsy and had fallen asleep on a chair.
She said she sat next me and held me in case I fell, and I had been very
naughty that day.
I was beginning to enjoy Emily’s company. She was so polite and
always smiled. She asked, “Do you have other clothing than what you
are wearing?” I told her I only had stuff I could wear around the house.
“Well in that case, dear boy, as I will be seeing more of you in the near
future, we will call into my Uncle and Auntie’s place in High Wycombe
in a little while for a cup of tea and fix you up with some swish duds.”
Emily explained that her Uncle Frank was a barrister (whatever that
was?) and he travelled a lot and was a frightful bore.
When we arrived at Emily’s Aunt’s house, the Daimler in the carport
made our Rover pale in comparison. I was fascinated by the two-seater
Morgan in the garage. Despite it being wartime, a time of austerity, this
large imposing residence reeked of wealth.
Emily was true to her word. Her Aunt, who had grown sons, was able
to provide me with loads of high quality cast-offs. Emily’s fifteen-yearold
cousin Dora, who was not a striking beauty, looked despairingly at
me in an attempt to chat me up. She asked if I was staying nearby. Her
mother replied that I was not and suggested that it would be better for
her to wait a little longer – maybe until the war was finished – before
asking. When we left, I took little Dora’s hand and kissed it, saying that
she would soon grow up to become a beautiful young lady. As she
curtseyed lightly and thanked me, I saw a tear in her mother’s eye.
While waving goodbye, Emily thanked me for being so nice to Dora.
“Poor little darling,” she said. “She is a sweet child but not very pretty.”
“Yes,” I said. “You must feel so lucky to be as pretty as you are. I have
really enjoyed your companionship and thank you for everything.”
Coming down the hill from the village of Stokenchurch, Emily
stopped the car and said, “It’s the tea at my Aunt’s. I must stop, as it will
be some time before I get home and I don’t like your Auntie Parker’s
toilet one little bit.”
“That’s better,” she said when she returned to the car. “Tomorrow I
will pick you up, so get cleaned up and be dressed smartly by just after
four. It will be dark then and no prying eyes.” Emily patted my head and
told me she was pleased she had found me. In addition, she said she
would like to share the rest of her holiday with me. Leaning over I kissed
her cheek and said “Thank you, pretty lady.”
Upon our arrival home at Charlham, Emily kissed me. To the staring
Parker family, kissing would in those days be like the prelude to an
engagement. Having completed the reunion pleasantries, I told Auntie
Parker that I had a date with Emily the following day, purely for pleasure
and nothing permanent. Auntie told me that Sally, her daughter-in-law,
would put me up anytime I was in Chiplington.
It was past four-thirty when Emily called to collect me the next day in
her daddy’s car. Her superior appearance, her aura, the Chanel No. 5
perfume, and her acceptance of me gave me a great deal of confidence.
We called into Sally’s place and I made my acquaintance with Dane,
Sally’s dog, which she had inherited from a deceased relative. Sally was
having problems, as the dog would not eat its food. After lots of hugs
from twenty-six-year-old Sally, whom I thought at the time was quite a
good hugger, I deposited my overnight bag and clothes.
Soon after arriving at Emily’s home, we walked the short distance to
the town centre. The provincial Cinema at Chiplington was where all
eyes would be on any new faces or, better still, pairs of faces. It was
rather dark in the cinema. Emily kissed me full on and placed my hand
on her left wobbly. For an almost sixteen-year-old, this was fun. Emily
spoke to an old person who was ogling us. She pointed to the screen and
called him a ‘Dick Wit.’
“Sorry, “she said. “ Army talk again.” Later at the fish and chip shop,
we managed to find a seat in a warm corner where Emily ate a much
larger portion of food than I could have managed. I looked at her in
disbelief. She grinned and explained that she had a high metabolism,
whatever that was. I thought it was probably some form of erotic
excitement. Emily’s foot was continually rubbing my lower leg under the
table, which could be seen by everyone in the slightly steamed-up mirror
behind the counter
Emily told me her fiancée was in Egypt with the army and having a
good time no doubt, whereas she had to be ‘intact’ for their wedding day
when he arrived home. I informed her that I, too, was unsullied and had
no intention of defiling her.
It was later that evening at Sally’s house that Emily said to me, “If
handled with care, it will probably not ruin our reputations.” We had
arrived back at Sally’s house about nine pm. The night was cold and
Sally had gone to bed. The open fireplace was a comforting sight. Sitting
close to the fire with hot drinks on a large rug, we were able to remove
our street coats. Emily, who I thought was never going to come out of the
bathroom, appeared all preened and cleaned and sent me off to do
During the chatter that followed, she asked, “Please would you
scratch my back here?” She pointed to the area, saying, “It’s probably the
heat from the fire that’s doing it.” Emily took my hand and guided it
down her back. After saying; “Ah, that’s better,” she guided me around
to the front and told me to “scratch softly, dear boy.” I told her that to
touch such beautifully smooth skin was pleasing. She replied, “You are
such a darling with words.” After kissing me, she said, “John, dear boy,
would you rub the other spot that is itching?”
Guiding my hand, Emily said, “Slowly, darling. That’s better. Don’t
stop now. I will tell you when.” She then arched her back and her eyes
dilated. She said, “That was wonderful, dear boy.” We then hugged. At
that point, I had developed an ‘itch’ of my own, which was detected by
dear sweet Emily, whose obvious experience in removing itching in
sensitive areas had me concluding that she was quite happy to lend a
Emily, who had moved further away from the fireplace, had
redeveloped her former itch; which by now I was more able to detect.
Emily and I repeated a ritual similar to the first.
Following Emily’s discovery that my former itch had gone beddybye,
I kissed dear sweet little Emily and shot off up the stairs...
Fini Part 2.
More will be coming soon.!!
Vest Daily Gaggle.
To advise that Vest (Les Bowyer) passed away this morning. Regards, Chris (Son).
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