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She plans a night totally devoted to him.

Oh, my God, I thought to myself, is Emma Watson-yes, Emma Watson!-flirting with me?

"Well, it's queen sized," I said. I could think of nothing else to say, but it still sounded rather unintelligent.

"Excellent! I'll call my agent and tell him to arrange for my move here," she laughed. She suddenly moved closer to me. "You know, I like you. You're-you're real," she said, putting her free hand on my knee. "And it doesn't hurt that you're pretty cute."

"Emma," I trailed off. At this point, I had no idea what to say. Thankfully Emma seemed willing to do the talking for the both of us. She set her bottle onto the coffee table. She removed the bottle from my hands and placed it beside hers. She then leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I returned the kiss, and placed a hand on her thigh. I felt my penis twitch and begin to grow erect. Emma and I began to make out; our hands began to explore one another's body. She could tell that I was obviously a bit nervous as to what was acceptable; my hands were confined to her thighs and stomach. Emma grabbed my wrist and brought my hand to her breasts.

"You can play with my boobs, silly," she said before returning her lips to mine. I was more than willing to take Emma up on this offer. My hands gently massaged Emma's pert breasts through her top. "Here," she said. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, then reached up her shirt, removed the bra, and handed it to me. I looked at Emma and then the bra. 34B, the tag read. "That should make it easier."

Feeling emboldened by Emma's obvious advances, I slid my hand up Emma's blouse. My fingers came into contact with her stomach. Her fair, English skin was warm and smooth. My hand made its way to Emma's breasts. Her nipples were just a little smaller than would be expected for a woman with 34B breasts, and I could feel that they were somewhat erect.

Emma stood up and carefully unbuttoned her blouse before slinging it over the back of the futon. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that Emma Watson would be topless in my apartment, standing in front of me. "You're so gorgeous, Emma," I told her. She put her finger over my lips and then, facing me, positioned herself atop me and straddled my hips. Emma grasped the hemline of my shirt and lifted it over my head. She leaned into me, and a shiver ran down my spine as her breasts pressed against my bare, hair-covered chest.

As we made out, my hands alternated between her breasts, hair, face, and butt. Each time I squeezed her butt-which, might I add, has the perfect amount of fat to it for a woman of her build-I would allow my fingers to trail down to her thighs, where I worked on hiking her skirt up. Emma stood up and slid her skirt to the floor, revealing her black, lace boyshort panties. I reached out and put my hand on her pussy mound; I could feel the heat emanating from her crotch.

"I want you," she gasped as I softly groped her through her panties. "If I'm going to be sharing a bed, I ought to see how it is," she said. I nodded and stood up. My penis, which was at this point fully erect, formed a tent in my beige shorts. This didn't seem to faze Emma.

"This way," I said, leading her into my bedroom. The walls were adorned with posters. In the corner was my desk, empty except for a closed laptop, a few pens, and a coffeemaker. The bed was neatly made, and the taut comforter concealed a few pillows.

"The bed in my hotel room in Minneapolis is certainly not this made up," she laughed. "We'll have to change that!" She grabbed a corner of the comforter and sheets, and pulled them back. I unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts and allowed them to fall to the floor of my bedroom. Emma licked her lips as she gazed at the blatantly obvious erection in my white/blue plaid boxer shorts. She reached out and grabbed my erect penis.

"Emma, I want you on the edge of the bed," I said, feeling less nervous.

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