Jemma

You don't mean for it to happen. It just does. One day you're a sane, rational man in his mid-40s, a happy husband, good father, upstanding citizen. Then a shift occurs. A shift, in this case, inspired by a girl we'll call Jemma who is one of your oldest son's best friends. You have known Jemma since she was a wild, funny tomboy chasing fireflies through your yard and have watched her grow through years and tears and countless changes. She is like a daughter to you.

Was it the fact that she turned 18? Did that magical number set the train in motion? Did you simply grow dissatisfied with the status quo? Was it the unexpected ways in which she blossomed through this most recent phase of her development? The answer, of course, is all of the above.

It was a Saturday afternoon, late June. I sat in my second-floor study, typing (I'm a freelance writer) at my favorite desk, the one that sits before the window which offers a view of the pool. Jake's friends had come over to swim. Jemma, as always, was among them. I looked up just as she lifted a ratty sweatshirt over her head.

We need to freeze this frame. The body that was revealed in that glorious, golden moment was not that of the slightly gangly, flat-chested kid with whom I had played a hundred whiffle ball games, but that of a bikini-clad porn star who was built for sin. The skin to bikini ratio was about 9 to 1. Her full, 34C (at least) tits; tanned, cut, athletic legs; and firm, shapely ass; begged, no, commanded, scrutiny. And before my brain could send restraining orders to the rest of me, that first forbidden hard-on had appeared.

Now, there are at least a hundred different roads rolling out of that charged moment. The one I chose pointed due south. Rather than corral my thoughts and return my attention to my writing, I stood (awkwardly, thanks to my emerging third leg) and walked to the door, which I locked. By the time I was back at my perch, my sweats were pushed down and my dick was holstered in my right fist.

I don't even know how long I watched but I savored my hidden view. She swam, laughed, splashed emerged and, finally, sunbathed. This was the phase that garnered the most traction, my hand tightening and my motion growing steady and determined. In the moment I shot the first thick blast of cum up onto my stomach, I swore she looked up, at the window, at me. More, more, more cum shot as her gaze remained fixed. Careful not to drip onto the carpet, I reached for the blind and drew it closed.

By the time I reached the shower I had convinced myself that there was no possible way she could have seen me, let alone, what I was doing.

********

"Hey," I said, nearly 3 weeks later when I returned from a late-day run to find Jemma reading on our sofa. In the days since my "breakthrough," appreciation had morphed into attraction which had given way to obsession. When I wasn't dreaming about Jemma I was fantasizing about her, imagining all sorts of moments exactly like this one - though I never dripped with sweat and wore running clothes.

"You look hot," she observed.

"I am hot."

My light brown hair was black with sweat and my lean, 5'10" frame glistened.

This was not unusual, by the way, Jemma being alone in our house. She had free reign; her own key, even.

"They all just left for Jake's game." Those words hung there heavily, or was I imagining that. I took a seat across from her. "I needed to get away," she confided.

"Is everything okay?"

I had played the role of counselor with Jenna more than once over the years and was always happy to listen, though listening in my new state of Jemma lust would include inspecting the tan brown thighs barely covered by her cut-off shorts, and the ample fullness concealed beneath a black bra that was visible under her sheer, thin summer blouse.

"Don't ask," she replied flippantly.

"Too late," I said. "I just did."

How does it happen? How does the air know to leave the room just before the big moment occurs. As I leaned forward, as the silence thickened and she quietly searched for words, I KNEW something was happening. I could feel it in my core.

"I have teen-aged boys," I continued. "Whatever you say will be tame by comparison."

"I don't know," she said softly, her brown eyes avoiding my blue ones. "You might not..."

"Jemma," I said sincerely, "you are completely safe here. Not only will I not judge you, I will not tell another living soul what you share with me."

After another long pause she blurted, "I think I'm a pervert."

I laughed but then stopped, noting the graveness of her expression.

"Can you be more specific?"

My heart rate accelerated. My flimsy running shorts grew subtly tighter. I leaned into this full, dizzying moment.

"I think perverted thoughts," she said. "Like, always."

"That's normal," I suggested. "Everyone your age thinks those thoughts. Hell, everyone MY age thinks those thoughts. It's part of being human."

"But I am dirtier about it," she said.

"How do you know?"

"I just think in really dirty ways. Dirty words and dirty thoughts, and...I...obsess... about..."

"What? What do you obsess about?"

"You," she suddenly blurted. "I obsess about you."

Again. A crossroads moment. Stop her there, usher her away, be kind, mature, responsible. OR...do what I did.

"I feel you looking at me," she continued, her words flowing more freely. "And I like it...and I, just, think all sorts of fucked up stuff."

I sat there momentarily speechless; amazed, thrilled, lit up, and hard.

"Like...right now..." she continued.

"What?" I said. "Right now, what?"

"Right now I want to show you my pussy."

Nerves and hesitation dissolved into a particular sort of distilled strength. This was a moment I simply could not pass up.

"Then show me your pussy," I said, surprising her.

"Really?"

"Really."

She didn't move.

"Is it wet?"

"It's always wet."

"Show me," I repeated. "I have been picturing it non-stop."

She stood, seeming, suddenly, shy. She unbuttoned her shorts and they slipped silently down her legs. She wore no panties. Her twat was bare, shaved.

"Step closer," I instructed, and she did as instructed.

The tiny bit of air that circulated in the room carried her scent straight into my bloodstream. I inhaled deeply.

"Sit down," I said, and she did. "Spread your legs."

She spread her legs. Her pussy lips glistened, smiling sideways at me.

"Fuck," I sighed with admiration, my hand tugging on my cock through my pants. "Show me how you fucking play with it, Jemma. Tell me what you think about when you play with it dirty girl."

She slid the longest fingers of her right hand into her tight box then pulled them out, spreading the gooey moisture up and down her quivering slit.

"I think about being your little slut," she cooed. "I want to be your dirty little slut."

As she talked and played I stood and stepped close to her. My cock was obviously hard. I pulled down my shorts and it sprang out inches from her face.

"Keep fucking stroking that little cunt," I said, as I glazed her lips with my pre-cum. "Now open your mouth."

Her mouth formed a lower case O and I pushed the head of my cock through it.

"Is this going to be our little secret?" I asked, pulling out of her.

"Yes," she said, nodding obediently, emphatically before impaling my shaft with her lips again.

"I need your fucking pussy, dirty girl," I said urgently, pulling her to her feet, turning her, bending her forward so that her hands pressed on the sofa's cushions.

There are really no words to describe the tight that she was. The tightness of her body seemed to centering the sweet, murky confines of her cunt, which spread, reluctantly, as I pushed my dick into it.

"Fuck," I groaned, half-submerged. "Tell me what you want Jemma. Be my dirty girl."

"Fuck me with that cock," she begged. "Fuck me hard. Fuck me now."

It became a law of nature. Subtlety, finesse, teasing, instruction, went out the window and I plow-fucked her mercilessly, my middle slapping her ass with each deep immersion.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she screamed, a withering climax clamping me even tighter.

"I need to fucking mark you," I pronounce, pulling my cock from her snatch and forcing her quickly onto her knees. "Let me see your tits."

She tore open her blouse and pulled her flimsy bar out of the way. Her big, full tits spilled free as I jerked myself wildly, my cum landing in thick ropes across her beautiful young face, neck and tits.