Summary Of Writing: Dr. Ellis Mchugh's Death Of Emily

Consumed by his intentions for Emily, Ellis's physical arousal remained under control as he subtly pushed her thoughts in the direction that he desired without being too obvious or raising her suspicions. So his cock remained softened in his trousers as he caressed the girl's skin and attempted to guide her ever closer to making a mental decision that would soon enough lead to her being on her knees and taking that very same cock, fully erect, in her oh-so-tight sixteen year-old cunt.

Each word she uttered in response, combined her with fingers ghosting over his knuckles in what he took as a sign of trust and search for tactile comfort, increased his confidence that he had her close to where he wanted her. Now, simply to allow Emily the time to herself to come to the conclusion that all possible roads led back to one destination, Dr Ellis Mchugh. Who'd be more than content to fill her....heart.
Shit. That was the first thought that entered his head, and the second was an immediate comprehension of why, and even as his eyes traveled down her form he felt not a jolt of anticipation, but a flare of complete disinterest and almost anger at her for placing him in this situation.

Not that Beth wasn't still a handsome woman, but she wasn't a sixteen year old Emily Harris, and ever since he'd begun to fantasise about the girl, he'd gained greater pleasure from self-gratification than the last occasions on which he'd had sex with his wife. And now here she was, dressed like a cheap whore, obviously expecting him to fuck her that night when he'd be fortunate to even get an erection without filling his mind with images of the schoolgirl. Simultaneously, he couldn't excuse himself or claim that he was too tired as that could potentially raise questions he'd prefer not to