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Emma's Boarding House
Erotic Story By Anonymous

I had seen my dear friend Emma do some wildly interesting things since coming to stay with her at her boarding house in south Texas. When I first arrived at the house, I immediately noticed the unfashionable red door and unusual services offered. Unless dinner was requested, only liquor was served as refreshment. Most guests were travelers, desiring only a bath and breakfast, and all were men.

Only one week into my visit, I realized by accident that Emma's boarding house was much more than a hotel. My first thought upon learning this was that my mother in Savannah would faint dead away if she knew that I was living in a whorehouse instead of simply helping weary travelers find rest.

I found that the beautiful reading chair on the balcony overlooking the parlor provided an advantageous view of the front door and sitting area and often made myself comfortable there.

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Most guests who requested Emma's Elite services, as she called them, were not to her liking, and the hospitality lasted only minutes. The Deluxe was only offered to gentlemen whom she would enjoy herself. Tonight, after we had both dressed for bed, a messenger boy from the eatery came to secure a room for a cattle rancher who was passing through. Mr. Stade's animals were grazing nearby, and he would arrive alone on horseback.

Cowboys are reliably the most handsome guests and favored by Emma. Closing the door after accepting the deposit from the boy, Emma smiled up at me on the balcony. I smiled back. "I'll go warm the bath."

Mr. Stade accepted a shot of whiskey with my friend on the condition that she have one, too. After a bath, he emerged wearing only the flannel pants I had left with the fresh towel and other clothing, which he apparently ignored.

I immediately noticed his smooth but firm chest, long legs, and stomach that resembled the old washboard on the back porch. From my hiding place above, I could smell the rich soap emanating from his beautiful body. This would be a good night to watch Emma work.

Even without his holster and boots, he had a dignified air about him. He held his strong back straight and carried himself confidently. Emma had changed into her pretty nightwear - red flowing silk trimmed in delicate black lace. Narrow straps over her shoulders allowed the thin garment to hang freely, gently caressing her skin. Though it covered little of her curvaceous body, she exuded elegance.

As Mr. Stade approached the back of the fashionably ornate sofa, he brushed one callused finger across the back of Emma's neck, causing her to shiver and almost spill her tea.

"Why, Mr. -" Emma started in surprise. She turned to face him, and I watched his muscles flex as he bent to kiss her. He set her tea aside and turned down the lamp before walking around the sofa to sit beside her. I knew my eyes would adjust to the darkness, and I would still be able to see them.

I expected the usual determination of most cowboys who had been riding a horse for many miles, but Mr. Stade was different. Emma's first move was to sit astride the man's lap, with one knee on either side, but he deflected her. Instead, he pulled her into his lap crossways and lifted her legs onto the dark blue velvet cushion beside him. He supported her back with one strong arm while the other hand rested on her neck.

Slightly increasing the weight of his touch, the hand glided slowly down her throat, across her chest, and came to a stop beside her breast. The change was almost imperceptible from the balcony, but Emma relaxed under the roughness of his hand and laid against the sofa's pillowed arm. I could see how badly she wanted Mr. Stade. Pleased with her urgency, he buried his lips in her neck as his hand continued its journey.

He deftly slid the strap from her shoulder and lifted her bare breast to his mouth. As Emma's fingers curled behind his head to encourage him further, I watched his leathery palm find the spot where we both knew she would be warm and moist. They moaned together when she spread her legs for his hand under the silk gown.

Only exploring her for a moment, he finally kissed her deeply. I am certain she reached a small climax as his full lips grazed hers. I was certain they heard my sharp breath intake when he stood and gracefully dropped his pants to the floor. Though Emma seemed unimpressed, I gawked at his member, surprised not only at its size but that he had become so aroused without Emma even touching him.

Mr. Stade pulled Emma to her feet, removing her gown at a painfully slow pace. I absently caressed my own thighs as I watched his leathery hands guide the silk upward over her buttocks and stomach. The tanned visitor removed the fabric over her head while the other again found the warmth he had created.

Taking her in his arms, the experienced cowboy lowered my friend onto the sofa, hovering above her, licking her nipples and tugging them with his teeth. After kissing every inch of Emma's quivering body, pausing to enjoy her wetness with his tongue, the man finally pressed his own body onto hers. He kissed her playfully, and she moaned at the taste of her juices on his lips.

Their rhythmic movements and heavy breathing commenced immediately, sweat beading on his slick skin. My own chest heaved as Emma's pale faced blushed deeply; she bit into his shoulder to muffle her screams and dragged her fingernails across her lover's back. Her knuckles became white as she pulled him into her harder and more deeply, begging him for more.

As the sinewy wrangler pounded deeper, his own groans grew louder. When Emma's shapely legs wrapped around the rancher's narrow waist, I could barely contain myself. Emma must have sensed my desire and looked up to be sure I was watching. Knowing my location, her eyes found mine quickly.

"Are you ready?" she asked the man on top of her. He signaled so by pulling her hips higher against him, slamming even harder, if that were possible.

Emma looked again to me as she reached her climax. Almost as if she were performing for me instead of her guest, she bucked her hips against Mr. Stade's and extended her arms above her. Her breasts shook as she cried out with primal abandon. I felt my own excitement subside slightly as Mr. Stade pulled away.

Rather than gathering his pants and retreating to his room as some customers, he fetched the blanket from the fireside chair. Reclining on the sofa where they had made love, he pulled Emma into the crook of his arm, covering them both with the quilt. Emma confessed later that even without the "extras," Mr. Stade was the most intense lover she had experienced. She has often invited me to join her in the parlor when guests are present, and I have repeatedly declined, though my desire to do so grows stronger with every customer Emma serves. I have tired of providing my own satisfaction against the memory of my friend's pleasure. Perhaps my next story will be of my own lover.

 

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