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My phone rang just as I was stepping out of the shower.

"Hi Jack, Emily here, I'm in town visiting my parents. I'd love to drop by and say hello this afternoon if that works for you."

Emily was a friend of my daughter and had been a regular at our house growing up.

"Sure, I'd love to see you, any time is fine, I'll be here in my office, working."

"Oh, I hope you are not becoming a dull boy, Jack."

"Nope, I'll be ready to play when you arrive."

That was Emily, smart and a little saucy, never afraid to crack wise. She and I had that sort of slightly flirtatious relationship which didn't mean anything, never got too close to the line, just gave a warm slightly sexy glow to our interactions.

"Great, I'm playing tennis at 3:00, how about I drop by after that?"

"Perfect, I'll put a bottle of Puligny Montrachet in the fridge."

Putting down the phone I idly stroked my cock. Ever since she had become a curvy young woman Emily had been the inspiration for many of my masturbatory fantasies. But it didn't feel right to take care of things when she was about to show up in the flesh; it blurred the line between fantasy and reality. My fantasy world was strictly separate, that's what allowed me to enjoy it so much. So I got dressed and went on with the rest of my day.

That might have been a mistake. I was thinking of Emily in a tennis outfit when the doorbell rang. My thoughts hadn't done anything to calm the bulge in my crotch and Emily in her actual tennis outfit didn't help either. The rose colored skirt barely covered her sweet curvy bum and I had to keep my eyes lifted from her tits, more generous than I remembered, either an effect of the outfit or perhaps of her pregancy a year ago. When we hugged I aimed for one of those demure awkward side hugs when you are trying to avoid being a dirty old man, or avoid being groped by one, but somehow we turned and ended up hugging full on, my bulge pressing into her mound a little more than was appropriate. Did I feel a responding pressure? Was it me or her pressing forward, or had we both done it at the same time, magnifying the effect?

We parted, flushed, awkward. I poured some wine and she started talking at 1.5x speed. She described the social scene with many old friends from the high school cohort that used to hang out at our house, what had happened to them, which ones had become regulars at the tennis club.

"Stephanie was there, remember her? She has turned into a total suburban housewife. But I swear she is balling the coach."

"Really, how do you know?"

"Oh, I don't know, she just has this sexy thing going on with him, her voice changes and he goes all standing on edge at attention. He was helping her with her backhand, standing behind her, and I'm like, is that her backhand or her back end you are helping with?"

She imitated Stephanie in a high pitched croon.

" 'Oh Dustin, that is so kind of you, you are so good to me. I am so immensely grateful for your firm guidance.' There is some strange combination of correctness and flirting that doesn't ring true."

"Sort of like you and me."

She laughed. "Not at all the same, we've never been correct."

Time to change the subject. "How is your work in the lab going?"

Emily launched into a description of her work on aging and rats, her eyes shining with passion about the science, the potential for an Alzheimer's breakthrough, the winding details of hypothesis and experiment in the pursuit of elusive truth. Her face was full of the light of discovery as we moved on to the second glass of wine.

We also moved on to more personal subjects.

"So sorry to hear about your divorce, or was that maybe a blessing?"

"Yeah, Adam figured out that he was gay. I suppose it was better to find that out sooner rather than later, although he could have figured it out before we had a daughter. But how could I say that, she's wonderful. At least I hope she is being wonderful for my parents right now, they're looking after her for the afternoon."

"I'm sure they are having a lovely time. And, I always say, the nice thing about grandchildren is you don't have to keep them."

"Tell me about it. At least the divorce was amicable, and Adam is being good about being a father to her."

She paused. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the subliminal miasma of sexual intent hovering between us, an old electricity sparked by affection and wired to trust.

"I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, the way he always wanted anal intercourse."

She realized what that sounded like and tried to correct, avoiding my gaze.

"Not that I'm trying to suggest that only gay men like anal intercourse. I mean, I'm sure there are lots of straight men who like it too. And women. I mean, I don't mind it myself. Oh geez, shut up Emily."

Emily seemed unable to stop digging herself into a hole. I felt an impulse to reassure her that this was a perfectly normal thing for us to be talking about.

"Isobel and I tried a couple of times, but she found it too uncomfortable."

This turned out not to be a good direction to take the conversation.

"I bet, the size you are."

"What, how would you know?"

"I've seen the bulge. And I felt it earlier."

"Oh, um, yeah, I'm sorry about that."

"Don't worry, I didn't mind." (Putting on her lab coat manner.) "Anyway, it's just a hypothesis, that there is some correlation between visual assessment of the bulge and actual size."

My attempt to steer the conversation had failed miserably. We were both aware of a strange new thing happening, of having strayed too close to the line. We both knew that the other one knew, and that the other one knew we knew, an infinitely winding thread of reciprocity and desire pulling us closer and closer.

Emily stood up, flushed. I thought she was making an attempt to break the spell, to leave and let things remain as they were, innocent and on the surface. Then she gave a little laugh, and with that serious sweet and saucy smile on her face said, "I think I should investigate that hypothesis. For Science."

She knelt down in front of me and looked up. It was a strange and beautiful moment, lust and trust alloyed in equal measure.

"I've always known you were a dirty old man, thinking about us girls."

"Not all of them, but yes, you."

"But you are a very nice dirty old man."

"Why thank you. And you are a very nice dirty little girl."

She unbuckled my pants.

"Oh yes, I think this is definitely going to be bigger once it has finished growing. May I?"

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She took me in her hand as I grew, getting harder and longer as she stroked. Once I was completely erect she pulled away and eyed my cock critically.

"Hmm, I know one way to test the difference."

She took me in her mouth and swallowed me as deeply as she could, down into her throat, not quite reaching my pubes with her lips.

"I used to be able to get Adam all the way in. Let me try again."

She attacked again, taking me deeper, still not quite making it. She pulled away again.

"I used to masturbate thinking about this."

"So did I."

"I really am a very dirty little girl."

She took me in her mouth again, pumping the base with one hand while her other hand reached into her panties. I peeked a generous growth of hair.

"I really like your hairy pussy."

"It's a luxury I've allowed myself since the divorce. Adam always wanted me to be perfectly smooth. Like a boy."

She rubbed herself for a bit longer, tongueing the tip of my cock and rolling it round in her mouth. Then she stood up, eyes sparkling through a glaze of lust.

"I think it's bigger, but we should take a confirming measurement."

She pulled down her panties then sat on the table, legs spread, her wet lips pink in the lush growth. I stepped out of my clothes and approached her, my head nestling in the opening of her wet cunt.

"I think it would make the measurement more accurate if you showed me your tits, to achieve maximum hardness."

"Oh yes, good idea."

She took off her top and bra and I leant in to suckle on her hard pink nipples. She groaned as I pushed in.

"Go as deep as you can."

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I pushed until she grunted as the tip of my cock reached her cervix.

"Adam never found that place."

I settled into a steady slow rhythm as Emily started the gradual climb towards orgasm, her eyes lidded, mouth in an inverted curve, groaning in rhythm with my thrusting, in another world. I was careful not to break the spell, sucking and tweaking and pinching her nipples, sliding my cock in and out, a little harder and faster each time, letting her enter the parallel universe, away from us, out of herself, a pulsing wire of sex, fucking, fucking, until she arched back with a great sighing moan.

She returned to this world, opened her eyes, and smiled through the sweaty disarray of hair covering her face.

"That was a really good one. You didn't come yet?"

"No, it's a disadvantage of age. Or maybe an advantage, it means I can keep on fucking."

"I've got an idea."

She got up and leaned over the table, reaching round to pull her cheeks apart.

"Lube me up a bit."

I smeared some of her cunt juice into her arsehole and onto my cock. Emily put on her Stephanie voice.

"Oh, Mr. Leroy, please don't tell my husband about the coach."

Getting into the part, I gave her a good swat on her soft round cheeks.

"And why shouldn't I? You've been very very bad."

"Oh yes I have been bad."

Swat.

"Ow! Yes, very very bad."

Swat.

"Owww! I'll do anything, please don't tell."

"Anything?"

I nudged my head between her cheeks, pressing into the forbidden hole.

"Oh please, no, not that."

Swat.

"Oh please, oh god, you're in me, oh, oh, oh."

I pushed in slowly, marveling at the grip of her tight little arse on my big hard cock. I felt the boiling surge begin in my balls as I started to pound into her. At some point her fake Stephanie cries turned into real Emily cries as she moved towards another orgasm. I knew mine was going to come this time, the mountaintop was there, the sight of her sweet spanked ass swallowing my cock, her swaying tits, the sound of her rising moans. My mind went blank as I exploded in her, buried deep, squirting hard. I collapsed on top of her, still inside, resting my head on her back, stroking her hair. She turned her head to the side, resting her cheek on the table, with a little smile.

"Yes. Definitely bigger. I'm glad we did this."

"Me too. I mean, you had to check."

We spoke at the same time.

"For Science."

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