Yesterday Was Just a Dream

Emma knew the Miltons never locked the back door. She let herself in with the casual familiarity of a regular visitor to the household, a familiarity tempered by the nasty shock of guilt she got when she saw Cindy's mom-Dorothy, she mentally corrected herself-washing dishes in the kitchen. She had hoped somehow that she would be able to get through this without ever seeing Cindy or Dorothy, but that particular bubble of wishful thinking had been punctured before she even got all the way past the threshold.

Dorothy gave her a cheerful wave, her rubber-gloved fingers trailing suds behind her. "Hi, Emma!" she said, beaming brightly at the younger woman with a radiant smile that made a sick pit of guilt open up in Emma's gut. "Cindy isn't home from work yet, but if you want to just go along upstairs, I'm sure she'll be back in a couple of hours. I'd offer you a chair at the kitchen table, but Cindy mentioned that you two have a lot of studying to do for that Art History midterm and I don't want to distract you from keeping your perfect GPA."

Emma was almost grateful that Dorothy mentioned the 4.0 average that her family had been bragging about her entire freshman year at college; it meant she had an excuse to blush and squirm awkwardly without raising any alarm bells in the older woman's head. "Um, well, to be honest," she said, trying to make her voice sound casual and certain she was failing miserably, "I was actually hoping to talk to Mister Milton."

Dorothy shot her a mock glare. "Um, I mean Tony," she stammered, blushing an even deeper shade of red. It had been over a year since Cindy's parents had insisted that she start using their first names, but she still couldn't entirely get used to the idea. 'You're eighteen now,' Tony had told her, giving Emma a pat on the back that didn't even remotely put her at her ease. 'You can't keep calling me 'Mr. Milton' your whole life like I'm your bank manager or something, it'll make me feel like an old man!' The words came out accompanied by a hearty laugh, but it only took a few weeks for Emma to realize that neither one of them was kidding.

Emma had to admit that Tony didn't look like an old man-he had a few gray hairs here and there among the black, and a few laugh lines around his deep brown eyes, but he was still very handsome. He was fifty-six, but Emma would have pegged him as barely pushing forty if she glanced at him on the street. He and Dorothy both kept themselves healthy; Emma knew from years of sleepovers that they steered clear of red meat and processed foods, and Tony was always down in the basement working out on his weight machine-

She tamped that thought down hard. Very hard. The last thing Emma wanted to think about right now was the Miltons' basement, and the last thing she wanted to think about the Miltons' basement was Tony working out on his weight machine.

Which made it all the worse when Dorothy burbled quite innocently, "Tony? Oh, he's downstairs getting in his afternoon workout. I'm sure he won't mind a little interruption, though." She turned back to her dishes, completely missing the way that Emma's face fell in response to her words. Emma almost broke down right there and told Dorothy everything, but she knew that it would be like a dagger through the older woman's heart. Emma had already betrayed her, and Cindy too; telling them about it would only make it worse. The best thing to do right now was to go downstairs, make amends, and make sure it never happened again. She walked past Dorothy like a condemned prisoner heading to the electric chair and headed down the steps to the basement.

Sure enough, Tony was down there doing bicep curls to the sounds of "We're Not Gonna Take It". He had on a thin white tank top that was so drenched in sweat that Emma could see his muscles right through the fabric, and a pair of orange gym shorts that looked like the family dog had been using them for a chew toy. Emma tried very hard not to notice the lack of underwear that the holes gave away. She just looked down at the floor and cleared her throat loudly to grab his attention.

Tony glanced over when he heard the cough and gave her a beaming smile. He lowered the stack of weights with a clang and got up, turning off the music and saying, "Hey, kiddo! What brings you down to visit with the old fogey? Got a question about your Econ paper? It's been a while since I took a test on it, but I'm happy to tell you everything I know." He sat back down at the weight machine as he spoke, resuming his workout.

Emma felt her cheeks burning with a blush that felt like it extended out past her skin. Her fingers crept up to play with her blonde pigtails, a nervous habit she thought she'd left behind years ago. "Um, it's... well, I..." Her throat seemed to close up, strangling the confession before it could even begin. She took a deep, shuddering breath and forced herself to walk over to the weight machine and look Tony right in the eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said, tears shining in her bright blue eyes. "What I did yesterday was wrong, it was absolutely inexcusable and I, I should never have..." Emma could tell she was lapsing into babble, guilt forcing out a torrent of words now that she had finally managed to make a hole in her wall of shame and self-reproach. "I know you love Dorothy, and I never intended to, to tempt you like that. I feel so awful. Like, like I'm just a terrible person. I just, I don't even know what came over me, I've never acted like that before, not with anyone and I, um. It won't happen again. I promise you it'll never ever ever happen again. Even if it means I have to stop coming over here, I'll find something to tell Cindy, I promise, I just... I'm so sorry." She sniffled, desperate now to keep herself from bawling like a little girl.

She trailed off into a silence that seemed to stretch on and on, the crushing weight of it filling the room. Tony looked at her, his expression unreadable, and Emma found herself picturing response after angry response until she was practically ready to beg him to say anything just to break the stifling tension. Even so, it came as a total surprise when he finally responded. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but... what are you talking about?"

Emma's eyes widened in surprise. "...yesterday!" she spluttered, confusion and frustration turning the word into a yelp of surprise. "I, I came downstairs to ask you when Cindy was getting home, and I... I mean you... I mean we..." She was stammering all over again, the words unable to get out from under the burden of her guilt. Finally, she forced herself to say it. "We had sex," she whispered, keeping her voice low in an almost superstitious fear of being overheard by Dorothy.

Emma winced in anticipation of Tony's response, but he seemed as unruffled as ever. "No we didn't, kiddo," he said, a touch of laughter in his voice as if he couldn't quite believe the absurdity of the notion. He let the racked weights drop again, but this time he simply allowed his hands to rest in the grips while he looked at her with a touch of bewildered concern. After a moment, seemingly as much to break the awkward silence as anything else, he added another, "We didn't." It hung in the air every bit as uncomfortably as the first.

For her part, Emma felt almost too stunned to speak. She looked over at the couch on the other side of the room, then back over at the exercise equipment. "N-no!" she finally blurted out, her vocabulary reduced to a simple, blatant refusal to believe Tony's words. She knew that it was a little strange to vehemently insist that she was actually the kind of terrible person who would sleep with her best friend's dad, but she couldn't just accept Tony's flippant denial, either.

"We, we did!" Emma insisted, as much to convince herself as Tony. "I was sitting over there on the couch, studying and keeping you company until Cindy and Dorothy got home, and I... I got distracted. Watching you work out. I kept looking up from my book and... seeing you. Your body, I mean." The memory seemed almost like a tangible thing in Emma's mind, like she could reach out and feel the solidity of it inside her head. "And I... I was just lying there, staring at you lift your weights, and I noticed a. A bulge. In your shorts." She didn't know why Tony was pretending that none of this happened, why he felt the need to force the whole humiliating confession out of her. But she couldn't back down now.

"And suddenly the room felt a lot warmer," Emma continued, her voice small and distant as she felt her way through the almost supernaturally vivid memory. "So warm that I couldn't really think of anything else. And I was still pretending to read, but the hand that wasn't holding my textbook snuck down between my legs and started rubbing my pussy through my jeans. I didn't even notice I was doing it at first, but once I did I couldn't make myself stop. I thought I was being... y'know, subtle about it, but..." Emma squirmed, wanting to look down at the floor or up at the ceiling or anywhere besides Tony's skeptical gaze. But at the same time, she felt like she had to prove she wasn't lying. The eyes were the windows of the soul, right? She was baring her soul. So she had to look him right in the eye while she told him what happened.

She could almost feel the remembered heat between her thighs as she told him what happened next. "I was wrong," she said, her stare becoming a little bit distant as she sank deeper into her memories. "After a little while, I noticed that you were... you were watching me watch you." She felt her body lurch forward dizzyingly as she recalled the intensity of his stare. "And then it was just like... like I knew what I had to do next." Emma's lips parted slightly, relaxing into an 'O' shape as though she was reliving the event instead of remembering it.

"I, I crawled across the room," she whispered, almost forgetting Tony was still there as she narrated the scene that played out in her head. "It was like I forgot I could even get up, I just wanted your c-cock so bad that all I could think about was getting to it. I couldn't stop staring at the way it twitched inside your shorts, I... I was drooling by the time I got to you." Emma's skin felt hot and flushed with embarrassment and arousal. She didn't even remember what Tony's expression looked like in the moment; he must have been torn in an agony of indecision, caught between his ethics and his desire, but she'd never even glanced at his face. Just his cock.

"I, um." God, it was so hard to keep meeting his eyes. Emma wanted to break their stare so badly, but it was like she was pinned by his gaze. "I nuzzled your. Um. Your crotch. There was a scent, I guess because you were working out and getting sweaty, but.. it was all musky and strong and it was making me so wet. I wanted to rub it all over my face, get it all over me so that I smelled like your sex. I don't really remember taking your shorts off, I just remember being able to rub, um. Better."

Emma could picture it perfectly, Tony's hands hanging in the grips just like now, not reaching down to push her onto his cock but passively waiting for her to make the next move. Letting her break down her own resistance to the idea of sucking off her best friend's father. "I could taste it, too," she whispered, not sure if she was even making sense anymore but too deep inside her reverie to stop. "You tasted like, like... fucking? Like, if sex had a flavor, that would be it." Emma didn't know how she knew-she'd never even had sex before yesterday-but she couldn't think of a more perfect description.

"And I couldn't stop licking and sucking all over your cock and balls," she murmured distantly, her eyes still locked on Tony's but her mind seeing only memory, "and I wanted it so bad. I wasn't even thinking about what it would mean, I just wanted to get as much of your cock in my mouth as I could. I... I wasn't that good at it..." That was how Emma knew it wasn't just a fantasy. In a fantasy, she would have effortlessly deep-throated him, instead of spluttering and coughing through two tries before she settled for bobbing her head up and down on the first two inches of his cock. "But I wanted to be."

Emma felt her fingers twitch with muscle memory as she went on. "And you were so hard, and I wanted to make you cum in my mouth so bad. I was, I was jacking you off with my hands while I sucked you, and I felt so proud when I tasted your cum. Like I did something right, you know? Like I was a, a good girl." Emma's pussy clenched hard at the sound of the last two words, and she suddenly realized she was wet all over again. She needed to leave. She needed to get out of here before she gave into that feeling and did something even dumber than she did yesterday. Dorothy was right upstairs, she could come down anytime, and suddenly Emma wanted to have sex again? Dumb move. Dumb idea. She should go.

She didn't. "I wanted more," Emma whimpered, every word teasing her like a breath on her clit. "I kept licking and stroking until you were hard again. God, your cum was everywhere..." She couldn't help drifting back into the memory, thinking about Tony's semen gushing into her mouth faster than she could swallow it until it dribbled down her chin and dripped onto the vinyl cushion of the weight machine. It made Emma feel so slutty, so horny and needy and desperate for cock that she could feel her panties soaking through with arousal. Not that she wore them much longer that day.

"When you were good and hard again, I, I shrugged off my pants and spread my legs and I, I begged you. I begged you to fuck me. That was... it wasn't your fault, okay? You shouldn't have to say no to that. I shouldn't have offered. I just..." Emma tried to figure out a way to sum it up in words, that sense of absolute, shameless need that came over her when she thought about finally having her cunt plowed for the very first time. She failed.

"I... I came," she finally said. "I didn't know if I was going to, I thought maybe it would hurt or maybe I'd need to finish myself off with my fingers or something. But I came really hard for you. Like it was the only thing I could do." Emma shuddered, the memory so strong that it practically evoked the sensations of climax all over again. She remembered Tony's big, stiff cock, pumping into her over and over. His warm voice, murmuring to her as he pushed into her cunt all the way down to the base of his shaft. She didn't even listen to what he said; she just let the sound carry her along into pleasure and rode him deeper into ecstasy.

"And, and then you came again..." Emma tried not to think about what that might mean-she remembered pulling up her panties over her sticky, dripping cunt and feeling Tony's cum soak into the fabric, but she couldn't get pregnant from that, could she? Not a week after her period? She pushed aside a vague and muddled plan to go to the pharmacist and ask about Plan B, desperate to finish her story. "And we cleaned everything up before the others got home, and pretended it was all... normal."

Emma looked desperately at Tony, already certain of what was going to happen next. Tony was going to lean in and kiss her, and tell her it was okay so long as they kept it a secret. Emma's resistance was going to melt all the way down to her pussy along with her ethics, and she was going to nod like some dumb fucking bimbo slut while he peeled her out of her clothes. She was going to bounce up and down on his cock until he shot his load inside her again, and they were going to keep doing that every day until they got caught or she got pregnant because she was too horny for shit like self-control or respect for her best friend or-

Tony smiled patronizingly. "None of that happened, honey," he said, his voice dripping with patient condescension. "You just had a really vivid dream, that was all. You came down here yesterday, you fell asleep on the couch waiting for Cindy to get home, and you... had a little dream about me. I'm flattered, honestly. But it didn't really happen."

Emma's eyebrows shot up in astonishment. "Never-no, it did! It did happen!" She knew that she probably sounded like a woman in an old sitcom, flabbergasted to the point of absurdity, but she couldn't stop herself. "I, I had messy panties last night! I could taste your cock in my mouth for hours! It, it was real!" She couldn't even understand what was happening. Why would Tony deny it like this, when it was just the two of them and they both knew what they'd done together? Why would he pretend they hadn't fucked when it was so, so... Emma felt a sting of humiliation. Was sex with her something he just wanted to forget?

Her expression must have given away her feelings, because Tony reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "Look, kiddo," he said, his voice so patient and kind that it made Emma want to scream. "You're a very sweet girl, and I'm sure you're going to make someone very happy someday. But all that happened yesterday was that you lay down on the couch and started reading, and after a little while you started to zone out watching Dorothy's indoor fountain again. You know how you get when you start to stare at the flowing water, right?"

Emma felt a sudden, yawning gulf of anxiety open up in her stomach as the terrifying possibility dawned on her that maybe she had really dreamed yesterday afternoon. And just confessed it to her best friend's father. Her head swiveled over to the fountain in the corner like someone had just warned her about a serial killer hiding there. "How did I not notice that?" she whispered absently, the words slipping out in her startled confusion.

"You always say that," Tony chuckled, giving her a condescending pat. "But you see what happened now, don't you? You were watching the water, following it down and down and down with your eyes the way you always do, and it made you a little bit sleepy. A little bit drowsy. You're a very tired girl, after all, doing all that hard work with your brain, and it's not surprising at all that you wound up getting so tired that you just decided to rest those weary thoughts and weary eyes. Doesn't that make sense?"

"I..." Emma felt her solid certainty beginning to crumble, tumbling down and dissolving into confusion like the little streams of water trickled into the pool at the base of the fountain. The memory still felt so real to her, vivid and powerful in every sense and detail, but... but Tony told her it was just a dream. He sounded so sure of himself. And his version sounded so plausible-Emma knew she had trouble staying awake when she watched the fountain, and the things she described did sound more like something she would do in a dream than in real life.

"It's okay," Tony cut in smoothly, inserting his words into the gap where Emma's thoughts trailed off into a puzzled stupor. "You fell asleep without realizing it, sweetie, and your mind just slipped away into dreamland. That's a very natural, very easy thing for you to do." He petted her shoulder gently, his hand moving in tiny soothing circles against the fabric of her shirt.

"And it's very normal for you to have... that kind of dream about me," he continued, his voice taking on a slightly secretive tone. "You've had a little crush on me for a while now, haven't you? It's okay," he said, seeing Emma's face twist a little in embarrassment. "You can tell me. I don't mind."

Emma started to shake her head a little, certain that she didn't see her friend's father in anything close to that kind of way. But as she stared at the flowing water, watching it gleam and sparkle in ever-changing, captivating patterns, she couldn't help thinking about how many days she came over before Cindy got home, earlier and earlier every day. Just hanging out with Tony, relaxing down in the basement with her books and her studies. Feeling comfortable. Feeling so completely at ease. Even now, she felt herself growing more and more serene and cozy until she finally mumbled, "I... um... yes." Emma squirmed a little, shame and humiliation replaced by the mild embarrassment of confessing a secret in safety. "Yes."