Emma's hand on your cock!

By a small, determined hand, to be exact, sliding over your boxer shorts and caressing your cock.

You can’t help smiling as you roll over. ‘Good morning to you too, Em.’

Emma just gives you a sultry, suggestive look, while her hand continues to stroke your shaft. ‘Morning yourself,’ she says lightly, one hand reaching up to touch her breasts through the thin t-shirt she’s wearing. Not her own shirt, you realise; she insisted on sleeping in yours tonight. ‘Just lie back and relax.’

Emma’s slow, talented strokes feel unbearably good, especially after a week’s drought; but some part of you is still afraid of fucking this up. ‘Em,’ you manage, as she grips your cock harder, ‘you really don’t have to – I mean, God knows I want to, but – if you’re scared of taking things too fast –’

Emma’s hand doesn’t stop for a moment. ‘Oh, hush,’ she says, with an amused lilt to her voice. ‘Just relax, okay? This one’s on me – I owe you at least this much for making last week a living hell. Well…’ She bites her lip sexily, t-shirt riding up to show off the underside of her breasts. ‘If you were anything like as horny as me, it must have been a living hell.’

You groan, shifting, as Emma’s handjob gathers pace. For once, she isn’t teasing; Emma’s singular desire this morning appears to be getting you to cum as hard as possible.

Which is on the immediate horizon if she keeps jerking you like this. Emma winks as she slips your t-shirt all the way up over her nipples, resting it cheekily on the tops of her breasts, and the sight of a topless Emma Watson almost makes you cum there and then.

‘Jesus Christ, Emma,’ you moan, fucking her hand back with unfiltered desperation. ‘It’s been so fucking long since I’ve seen those tits…’

‘Yeah?’ Emma breathes, arching her back slightly to give you a better look. ‘You like seeing Emma Watson’s tits, do you? You like it when I expose myself in front of you?’

Her angelic voice makes the words sound even filthier, and you bite down hard, straining not to cum just yet. ‘Oh, you like making me say ‘tits’?’ Emma giggles, an unexpectedly dirty sound. ‘Not boobs, or breasts? Tits? Duly noted.’

Her voice lowers to a husky purr. ‘I think… that maybe you like it when I’m a slut for you. Maybe you think I should be a slut more often. Maybe…’