Read Trapper and Emmeline for Free Online

ate it up.”
    “That was on purpose?”
    “I could tel you were entertained and I wanted to make you happy. I think I might do that a lot, with men I talk to.
    Subconsciously.”
    “You’re very good at it.”
    “Thanks, I guess. Anyway, together, you and I can be a recipe for adventure! Can you think of a better pairing than us?
    Show-er and show-e?”
    “If you put it that way, and I can’t.”
    “So let’s get the scissors before I lose my nerve!”

    I didn’t have to put my hand on her crotch to know she was ready to go again. I pictured myself recruiting a backup team of guys who could tag into our sexy-time when I needed a rest. I looked her up and down, which caused her to pose a little.
    “Here’s what you do,” I told her. “Put your bra and panties on.”
    “Ooh!” she gave a cute little moue of disappointment.
    “And go out into the apartment in front of my roommates.”
    “Ooh.” Now the sound was different.
    “Just act natural that you’re in your underwear. Different girls, different comfort levels, right?”
    “If you say so, Trapper.”
    “We’ve had girls wandering around in their underwear before.” I didn’t mention that it had been Saul’s drunken aunt.
    “Under the TV is a cabinet with little drawers. Open the second drawer down, on the right. The scissors are there. Or in one of other drawers.”
    “Cabinet, second drawer, right. Okay.”
    She was standing at that point, looking gorgeous as she pul ed on her tiny panties and her lacy bra. The bra didn’t look comfortable, so I supposed it was a fashion accessory—designed to peek out of her shirt and very effective at it. As for the panties, I couldn’t real y see a point. They only went as high as her pubic bone in front, and did nothing to cover her taut, round ass in back.
    Both undergarments had had a rough day, and were variously stretched, damp, and transparent in places. She spil ed out of them in every direction. She twisted around, trying to contain her body, looking like an indecisive Playboy centerfold.
    “You real y need a mirror in here,” she said.
    “I’l tel you how you look.”
    “Sure you wil .” She paused at the door. “I guess this is it!”
    Against al odds, my cock was getting hard again. I watched in admiration as she fluffed her hair, fixed an expression of indifference on her face, and walked through.
    I couldn’t hear what my idiot roommates said, but I could guess that it started as something off-the-charts inappropriate. There was a swel ing of speech when they realized she had final y emerged from my room and al spoke to her at once—and then the speech dropped into silence as they saw her.
    I heard Emmeline chirping at them brightly, the high voice she uses when she’s trying to make a good impression on new men. She needed scissors. She’d been told they were here in this drawer.

    No, not this one. What about this other one? Nope.
    “Huh! My informant is unreliable.”
    They let her go through every drawer, and then pointed at the bottom ones, and she leaned over to look in those. For five solid minutes she was pul ing drawers open and rummaging around (“how many power cables do you guys real y need, anyway?”). For me, it was an agonizing time when I strained to hear what was happening. She said they never blinked once. They devoured her with their eyes.
    Then, final y, Saul remembered the main drawer in the kitchenette. She found the scissors on the first glance, waved them, and came back to my room.
    She closed the door and leaned against it.
    “Look at me!” she demanded.
    I was already staring.
    She was flushed, her chest bright pink as if her heart were a floodlight shining through the delicate veins of her breasts. Her nipples had defeated the bra, making big, obvious points tantalizingly close to where the fabric stopped and her tits began. Her vagina, minimal y covered by the tiny triangle of cotton, was surrounded by a riot of bare skin: hips, thighs, stomach, al