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Just a Quickie

Category: Mature
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Mum put the telephone down and turning to me said, “Do you realize you haven’t seen Aunt Emma for nearly two years?”

“Is it that long?” I asked, glancing up from the book I was reading.

“Yes, and she wonders why, she thinks she might have done something to offend you; has she?”

“No, I just haven’t got around to visiting her and it’s a damned long trek out there — the far flung outposts of…”

“Robert, its only forty minutes on the train, surely you could…”

“She never forgets your birthday,” dad chimed in.

“Well I’ve told her you’ll visit her tomorrow,” mum added.

“Tomorrow!” I protested, “It’s Sunday tomorrow and…”

“Then you won’t have any lectures will you, and while you’re there you can pick up a couple of books she’s lending me.”

“Books? ”

“Yes, you know I’m doing the same course that she did…er…how long ago was it?”

“Must be about ten or eleven years,” dad said.

“Well anyway, some of the books she used are still on the reading list, so she’s lending them to me. I need them in a hurry.”

I might have guessed mum had a motive other than my non-Emma visiting for sending me to her.

Mum was one of the people they call “Mature age students.” They’re mostly women having a midlife crisis when their kids have grown up and they want to find the meaning of life. It’s a bit of an embarrassment having your mum studying at university at the same time as you. I’m just thankful that we’re in different faculties; mum in the Arts Faculty and me in science.

I made one final attempt to get out of the visit. “Mum, there are hardly any trains to the outer suburbs on Sundays.”

“Don’t be silly Robert, there’s one that leaves at nine thirty.”

“Nine thirty! That’s the middle of the night.”

“Emma will be at the station to meet you,” mum said, ignoring my remark.

So that was it settled.

* * * * * * * *

I should explain that Aunt Emma isn’t really my aunt; the “Aunt” is just a sort of honorary title.

When mum was a kid she and her parents lived next door to Emma’s parents. I think mum was about twelve years of age when Emma was born. Mum says that because she didn’t have any siblings she sort of adopted Emma as a sister. So that’s how I got my Aunt Emma. It seemed a bit odd really because Emma was only about thirteen years older than me, and I suppose you expect aunts to be ancient.

Mum married before she’d completed her studies, so that’s why she’s at university now, “catching up,” as she calls it.

Emma eventually became a teacher and a couple of year ago she was appointed to a primary school in an outer suburb. She said she was fed up with living in the inner suburbs and didn’t want to travel to and from the school everyday, so she moved to the suburb where the school was located.

I’d only been to her house once, when mum, dad and I went to see the place after she first moved in, and it was true I hadn’t been to see her since. When she occasionally came into the city and she dropped in to see mum I’d never been around.

Emma had never married, but from what I’d overheard mum and dad say, she’d had quite a few men in her life, but none of them lasted. I’d wondered about that; why the rapid turn over of lovers?

I mean, Emma was okay to look at although she did look a bit formidable. You know, tallish, about five feet nine and slender but with rather noticeable breasts. I used to think of them as “nipple hills,” because she nearly always wore tight tops and her breasts stuck out very conspicuously and you could always see the shape of her nipples.

I have to admit that when I started to make my way through puberty-land I used to get a bit horny looking at her nipple hills.

As for the rest of her; she always has her auburn hair cut just above shoulder level; her forehead is broad and smooth and her face tapers down to a chin that just escapes being pointed and it has a rather nice dimple in the middle. Her eyes and nose tend to make her look a bit fierce.

Her eyes are long lidded and green, and when she looks at you it’s as if she’s seeing right into you. Her nose is aquiline and that makes her look a trifle hawkish — as if she’s about to devour you. Her mouth seems to contradict her eyes and nose by being full lipped, with the lower lip protruding ever so slightly.

She has the most marvelous complexion, and that is true of her whole body. I know this because when I was a kid Emma and mum would take me to the beach and Emma always wore a bikini, and that showed not only her over all complexion but her rather nicely shaped and long creamy legs.

I’d always been a bit wary of Emma although I didn’t know why. I mean, I know now, but I didn’t back then. Perhaps that’s why none of her men hung around for long.

* * * * * * * *

Sunday morning and up at the crack of dawn — eight o’clock. Mum drove me to the railway station. The train wasn’t even one of the new ones, but an old rattle trap that was almost empty anyway.

It complained it way through the inner suburbs and then the not so inner suburbs, stopping frequently at stations to let nobody off and nobody on.

Finally it creaked and rattled its way to the outer suburbs where there were still some fields with sheep and cows doing nothing in particular, or perhaps awaiting the desecrations of the “Developers.”

After about forty minutes the train groaned into the station that was my destination.

Emma was there waiting for me, and I have to say, she looked absolutely stunning. Wearing tight shorts and shirt, her long legs were well on display and the nipple hills were clearly unbridled as they strained against the shirt.

I’d forgotten she looked so good, or perhaps after my residence in puberty-land I hadn’t paid sufficient attention to her. After all, I did have the fleshly reality with a number of girls, without chasing after a fantasy surrogate aunt.

As I said, I’d always been wary of Emma, but at that moment, standing on the station platform, I was scared of her, or more accurately, scared of my response to her sexy appearance. Who would need an aphrodisiac with someone like Emma around?

She made things worse with her exuberant greeting. She hugged me close, and kissed me firmly on the lips. I could feel the nipple hills pressing against me, and my testes and penis began to gear up to reproduce the species.

“It’s been such a long time,” she warbled, “and you’ve filled out since I last saw you. Why haven’t you come to see me?”

I muttered something about being busy with studies but I don’t think Emma heard because she went on, “We’ve got the whole day together darling, isn’t in wonderful?”

“Yes,” I replied doubtfully. If the day was going to continue as it had begun I foresaw some frustrating times ahead.

As we went to her car she said, “I wondered what you’d like to do. We can sit around and talk, or we could go for a drive in the hills, or go for a walk. They’ve just opened a restaurant in the village and later we could go there for dinner, would you like that?”

These outer suburb people like to pretend they’re living in a village, even though the suburban houses are springing up all round them.

I’d heard that exercise can help dampen an over eager libido, so I said that I’d like to go for a walk.

“Wonderful darling, we’ll go back to the cottage and I can make some sandwiches to take with us for lunch.”

Its funny how along with pretending they’re living in a village, the outer suburbanites often like to pretend they live in a cottage. I suppose Emma’s place was rather like a cottage. It was built in what is called the “Federation Style.”

I only had vague memories of the place but on my only other visit when Emma had just moved in and the place had still been at the cluttered stage. Now it was transformed. Emma must have raked the antique furniture shops for miles around, and I had to admit that she’d done it with style.

Her most prized piece of furniture was a magnificent four poster bed. She said it had come over with the First Fleet, but I think she’d been conned. Why would a four poster bed be brought over with a lot of convicts?

Conned or not it was a fine piece of furniture, but not totally authentic because Emma had ordered a special mattress to be made, together with covers. They had to be specially made because the bed wasn’t a standard size.

Emma displayed the excellence of the mattress by bouncing up and down on it a few times, and she invited me to test it for myself. It was certainly better than the mattress I had on my own bed. I wondered somewhat enviously how many men had bounced up and down on Emma in the bed, or more likely, Emma had bounced up and down on them.

The survey over Emma set about preparing the sandwiches and a vacuum flask of coffee, all the time chattering and asking me about my studies, what I did with my leisure time, did I have a girlfriend, and that sort of stuff.

When it came to answering her question about girlfriends, without going into details I told her I was keeping my options open.

She looked at me quizzically and said, “Really; well I suppose you’re not in a position to get serious; not until you’ve finished your studies and have a job.” Then she added with a chuckle, “Unless you can find a woman who can afford to keep you.”

“Mmm,” I replied noncommittally. I’d never looked at it like that since all my attention was focused on female genitalia and not their financial situation.

“We could drive up into the hills and walk there, but there is a trail that starts quite near here; it’s a circular walk and goes through some of the forest; there’s even some wild life left.”

She sighed and went on, “I suppose they’ll soon be hacking it down to build more houses; and I thought I’d be getting away from it all by coming here.”

The thought crossed my mind that people who want to get away from it all end up by taking it with them.

* * * * * * * *

The sandwiches and thermos were put into a small knapsack which I, playing the gentleman, offered to carry. We set off and after going along a couple of streets we reached the beginning of the trail. It was undulating tree covered country we passed through.

We did spot some kangaroos and a single koala clinging high up on a tree branch.

I suppose as a city boy I’d never properly appreciated the countryside but I found that walk very refreshing. Even the baby making desire Emma had inspired diminished, that is, until we sat down to eat our sandwiches.

Emma sat opposite me, her knees raised and legs slightly parted. The material of her shorts at the groin sculpted the lips of her pudenda and I was in procreation mode again.

I wondered if she was deliberately tantalizing me for a bit of cruel fun; I’ve heard that there are women who enjoy that sort of thing, but I’d never associated that behaviour with Emma. She’d always been very kind to me when I was a kid, but perhaps now she knew I was sexually aware she’d changed.

Unfulfilled sexual arousal always makes me feel grumpy and Emma seemed to notice this.

“Are you all right,” she asked, “you look a bit down.”

Down! Far from it; my problem was that I was up.

Pasting on what I hoped was a cheerful countenance I replied, “I’m, fine…fine, just enjoying the peace and quiet,” I lied.

She smiled, showing sparkling, even white teeth. That didn’t improve the engorged penis problem.

What was in those sandwiches I’ve never known, my mind being distracted.

As we finished eating Emma said, “We’d better get moving if we’re going to eat in the restaurant. I’ll need to shower and change.”

Another crisis arose when at one point along the trail we had to climb over a rocky protuberance. Emma was just ahead of me, and as she clambered I got a full view of her firm, high buttocks plus another look at those plump genital lips.

I know walking it supposed to be good for the health, but walking with someone like Emma is a health hazard since it raises the blood pressure alarmingly.

We got back to the cottage and Emma headed for the shower. I sat staring into space, or rather, staring at a fantasy image of Emma naked under the shower.

When she had finished and changed she came into the lounge where I was sitting. No longer in shorts and shirt, she had changed into a green dress that was split on one side nearly to the top of her thigh and its neckline (for “neckline” read “breast line”) plunged down to reveal the deep cleavage between her breasts.

Another erectile crisis, and in addition I wished I’d brought something to change into; shirt and jeans hardly harmonized with Emma’s attire. What’s more she exuded a subtle but delicious fragrance that added to the merciless throbbing of my manhood.

“Do you want a shower?” Emma asked.

Heaven was merciful after all, in the shower I could engage in a little self-relief.

“Yes please,” I said eagerly.

“I’ve put out what you need, Robert.”

I knew she hadn’t put out what I needed because it was too intimately part of her.

What a relief it was. Within seconds the pent up emotions of the day were splattering against the tiled wall of the shower and slithering in sticky strands to the floor. I couldn’t recall ever having shot so much semen before, but I knew the relief wouldn’t last; I’m like that you see. If I take a girl once and then have to leave her, in hardly any time I’m horny again and wanting to go back to her.

* * * * * * * *

The restaurant was what people refer to as “a romantic and intimate little place.” It was not only romantic and intimate; it was also somewhat pretentious and expensive. The waiter was of the snooty type but he nearly lost his snoot when his gaze fell on Emma’s cleavage.

I hate to sound mean but since Emma was paying I didn’t mind the expense, but it did outrage me when I looked at the wine list. They were charging three times what you would pay for the same wine for in a bottle shop. Emma seemed in no way discomposed and she blithely ordered the most expensive red wine on the list, eighty dollars, and even at bottle shop prices I couldn’t have afforded it.

There were three other couples in the restaurant and this was a source of jealous irritation because the guys couldn’t stop looking at Emma, and the women kept nudging the guys and whispering to them vehemently.

The effects of the shower masturbation were already beginning to wear off, so that meant more food consumed but not tasted. I have to admit that it was a relief when we’d finished.

Emma paid the horrendous bill and it was getting close to train time.

We were supposed to heading for the station and because I wasn’t familiar with the area it took a while to realize that Emma wasn’t heading for the station and we were driving up into the hills.

“This isn’t the way to the station,” I protested.

“No,” Emma replied, her eyes focused on the winding road.

“But I’ve got to catch the train.”

“You’ll catch it,” she replied calmly.

“But where are we going.”

“You’ll find out.”

We had long passed the last of the street lights when she turned the car onto a dirt track that went into the forest, and after a couple of minutes she pulled up.

“What are you doing,” I asked, I’ll be late for the…”

“We’re going to have quickie,” she replied as she pulled down the zip of my jeans.

“A quickie?”

“Robert, we’ve both wanted to fuck each other almost from the time we met this morning, so now we’re going to fuck.”


Her hand had dived into my jeans and pushing down my underpants she took hold of my penis and drawing it out she started to masturbate me.

“My God, you are a big boy,” she gasped.

I knew what she meant because I’d had similar comments from women before.

She started to pull my foreskin over the head of my penis and then back again with increasing rapidity.

“You’re making me come,” I gasped.

“No you don’t,” she replied, “on the back seat.”

I got out of the car one side and she on the other. I think she must have removed her panties before getting on to the backseat because by the time she had pulled up her dress she wasn’t wearing any.

The interior light wasn’t on so I couldn’t see her properly and it was very cramped.

She was pulling me towards her and I could feel the head of my penis touch something very soft, warm and wet. The next moment I was deep inside her silky tunnel.

“Fuck me hard, darling,” she said hoarsely.

We were both in a hell of a state and she started to cry out, “Harder darling…do it to me harder…and suddenly I felt something I’d never experienced before; she clamped her vaginal muscle over my length and it was like I imagined a crocodile’s grip would be.

It was my turn to cry out; “Emma…Emma…its…its…”

“You like that darling?”

“Yes…yes…oh my God yes…I’ve never felt anything like it.”

She now commenced a rhythmic gripping and releasing and her cries changed for a few moments.

“I’m coming…don’t make me come its agony — torture – don’t — ohwa — ohwa — yes –yes – I want it…I want to feel it…let it gooo…I…need…darling…oooohwaaa…”

I had no difficulty complying with her request — or was it a demand? She seemed to suck the sperm out of me as I hammered it into her with sharp thrusts.

She continued her sobbing cries after I’d finished, gradually calming down until she lay still. I could feel rather and see her eyes upon me.

“Was that good darling?” she whispered.

“It was fantastic,” I said sincerely, “but I’ve missed the last train.”

“I know,” she said slowly.

“You said I’d catch it.”

“I said you’d catch a train, I didn’t say which one.”

“But there aren’t any more trains tonight.”

“That’s right,” she agreed, “so there are only two alternatives; I drive you home or you spend the night with me; which is it to be darling?”

“You mean, go to bed with you?”

“What else?”

“But mum and dad will…”

“I can telephone them when we get back to the cottage. I’ll say that we were so engrossed in what we were doing that we failed to notice the time, after all, it’s partly true isn’t it?”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She got out of the back of the car and getting in the front started the engine. I joined her and we drove to the cottage with me feeling euphoric. I’d just experienced the greatest sex I’d ever known, and that had been on the cramped back seat. What would it be like with her in bed?

By the way, Emma couldn’t find her panties, so if you’re walking in that forest and find a pair, don’t bother to return them.

* * * * * * * *

Arriving at the cottage Emma got straight on to mum. I said I’d do it but Emma said I’d probably give the situation away, and that women were much better at these things than men.

When she’d replaced the receiver Emma smiled and said, “Your mother says, don’t forget the books and remember you’ve got a 10 o’clock lecture. Pity we couldn’t spend the day together but I’ve got to go to work. I suppose we’d better take another shower so we can make a fresh start, your sperm is still dribbling out of me.”

She refused to let me join her in the shower because she said that we’d only do it standing up. She was certainly direct in stating her requirements because she added, “You’re going to give me cunnilingus and if you’re a good boy and make me come I’ll suck you off.”

She told me to take my shower first, and when I’d finished to go to the bedroom. There was no need for further self-relief since I anticipated that Emma would give me all the relief I needed.

When I got into the bedroom Emma was standing there naked and I almost raped her. Those creamy breasts that had always been shrouded now fulfilled their promise. Nipple hills were not overly large, but very firm and the nipples were a delicious pink.

I made a grab for her but she scampered round me saying, “You’ll have to be patient, you’d like me nice and clean, wouldn’t you?”

She fled laughing from the room and I lay on the four poster waiting, my penis standing up rigid.

She returned, still naked.

“Mmm,” she said, looking at my penis, “I can see you’re eager, and then almost out of character she said shyly, “Now you can see all of me, do you like me.”

“You’re lovely,” I replied truthfully.

She lay beside me and said, “No quickie this time darling, we’ve got all night.”

She kissed me, gently at first but with increasing hunger as we almost consumed each others lips and tongues.

At last I was able to touch her breasts; to stroke and press them. With directness that I was to learn was characteristic of her she said, “My nipples are nice for sucking.”

And they were indeed nice for sucking and I was instructed to suck each nipple in turn in case they got jealous.

“Bite me Robert, hurt me a little,” she said.

“I bit her nipple gently.”

“Ow…lovely darling, do it to the other one.”

The caressing and biting went on for a while until Emma said, “And now I’m going to find out how much you love me; just lie still.”

She sat astride me and starting with my penis she began moving up my body, dragging her wet genitals over me.

Then she was above me and I was gazing at her engorged genitals. She placed her fingers on her outer lips and parted them to display the wet red inner lips that seemed to flicker convulsively over the entrance to her vagina.

“Love me,” she said, “Lick me…make me come.”

She slowly lowered her genitals to my mouth and as I pushed my tongue into her I tasted her sweet love juice, and breathed in her female fragrance.

“Love me,” she said again.

Did I love her? For some unknown reason — probably a fantasy — I had always told myself that the woman you love always tastes and smells good. I’d given oral sex to other women and always found it slightly distasteful, only performing the act because they seemed to so urgently desire it. I found Emma delicious.

Did that mean I was in love with her?

You will understand that I didn’t philosophize on the meaning of love at the time. Emma was moving her wet genitals over my mouth with short, sharp jerks, muttering, “Yes…yes…yes…”

I felt her change position slightly and then I was licking and sucking her clitoris, and then something like pandemonium broke out.

Without any attempt to move away from me or stop her jerking motion she started to wail, “No…don’t…don’t make me come…stop…stop…I can’t stand it (I’ve often wondered why women tell you to stop when they want you to continue).

Then the plea changed; “Don’t stop…don’t stop…ohwa…ohwa…help…oh my God…yes…yes…”

I reached up and fondled one of her breasts as she sobbed and screamed above me. She passed over the peak of her climax and gradually subsided. She slid back and then leaned over me, her breasts brushing my chest, her moist lips kissing my face and her hand ruffling my hair.

“What have you done to me you beast?” she sobbed “what have you…oh you poor boy, I’ve saturated your face,” and with that she started to lick my face, lapping up her juice.

She took hold of my penis and said, “I’ve been cruel haven’t I? Never mind, I’m going to make you feel better.”

She pulled back my foreskin firmly and gazed at my penis for a few moments and then licked the pre-cum that was coating its head.

“Lovely,” she said, and began by sucking the head, and gradually worked her way along my length.

Her sucking was almost as potent as the flexing of her vaginal muscle and to warn her I cried out, “I’m coming…I’m coming.”

Other women I’d experienced always pulled away at that point, letting my sperm shoot into the air, but not Emma. She sucked even harder, and I released my cum into her mouth.

I had my hands behind her head, holding her to me. I jerked shot after shot of sperm into her mouth as she tried to swallow. When I finished I took my hands away and she looked up at me, the sperm she had been unable to swallow dangling in glutinous tendrils from the corners of her mouth.

“Feel better darling?” she said thickly.

“Bloody marvelous,” I replied.

“Don’t swear Robert,” she admonished, it’s not good for the children.

“But I…we don’t have…” then in mid sentence I remembered that she taught primary school kids.

“I’ll just go and…and…”

She didn’t finish what she was saying because she hurried from the bedroom. I assumed she had gone to wash out her mouth.

She returned after about five minutes and snuggled up against me.

I fondled her breasts as I asked, “Why did you drive all that way out into the forest for us to…”

“Logic darling…logic; you were supposed to catch the nine o’clock train. It was about fifteen minutes to nine when we came out of the restaurant. If I’d driven back here you’d have known I was up to something, so I had to take you by surprise.”

She paused for a moment and then said, “It wasn’t a very good idea was it?”

“It was a very”…my God that word was coming up again…”a very loving idea.”

“I wanted to be sure,” she said. “All day I thought you wanted me, so I thought a quickie would tell me what I wanted to know.”

“Did you plan all this in advance?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” she said cautiously. “I remembered how you felt about me when you first…well…when you were thirteen or fourteen.”

“You knew?” I gasped.

“Of course I knew. A woman can tell when a guy is horny for her, and I know why you’ve been avoiding me for the past couple of years.”

“You do?”

“Yes; you’ve been afraid of making a move with me and me rejecting you.”

“Ah, yes,” I replied, not really sure that she was correct, but adding, “Can I do it too you again?”

“You couldn’t,” she gasped, “you’ve come twice already.”

“Three times,” I added silently, remembering the masturbating in the shower.

Aloud I said, “I think I could fuck you from now to eternity.”

“You might regret those words,” she replied as I sank my penis into her vagina that immediately began its crocodile gripping.

I didn’t regret those words, nor did she.

I think it was about three o’clock in the morning when I finally emptied my testes into her. I slept peacefully with Emma curled against me.

* * * * * * * *

I was rudely shaken awake by Emma, who said, “You’ll have to catch the eight fifteen if you’re going to attend that lecture. You’ll need a shower, we both smell abominably of sex.”

I groaned into life and staggered to the shower.

Emma had a breakfast of egg and bacon ready and I ate voraciously.

When I finished I said, “I don’t want to go, Emma.”

“You must,” she said, “but will you come back next weekend?”

“You want me to?”

“Well of course I want you to, you silly boy, I’ve got to be sure.”

“Sure of what?”

“Of…oh never mind, just come next weekend; oh, and don’t forget the books.”

“Have we got time for another quickie?” I asked.

She glanced up at the wall clock and replied, “Yes, but it will have to be quick if you’re going to catch that train.”

She took off her panties and tugged up her skirt. I went close to her and she impaled herself on me. There were a few seconds of gasping and groaning as I shot into her. When I’d finished Emma sighed, “My God Robert, you are potent, I’ve chosen well.”


“Here take these, we’ve got to go.”

She thrust some books at me and then hustled me out to the car. Arriving at the station she came to the platform with me, she was clinging on to my arm. I could see the train coming down the line and Emma flung her arms round me and kissed me, much to the amusement of the waiting passengers.

“Next weekend,” she said.”

“I’ll come early…I’ll come on Friday evening after lectures.”

“Let me know which train,” she said as I got into the carriage.

* * * * * * * *

Unlike the Sunday train the Monday morning train was filled with grim looking going-to-work commuters. By the time we got half way to the CBD people were already standing, and by the time we reached the station where I was to alight the carriage was packed to suffocation point.

Emma had let mum know which train I was going to catch, and so she was waiting for me with the car. As I got in her first words were, “Did you bring the books?”

At home I changed and gathered my things ready to attend the lecture. There was time for a cup of tea, and that was when mum asked me how I’d enjoyed my time with Emma.

I was careful how I answered that saying, “Oh it was okay, quite pleasant really.”

“Good, I’d like you and Emma to be good friends. After all, she’s always been very generous with you.”

“Yes…yes she has. By the way, she’s invited me to visit her again next weekend.”

Mum’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Really, are you going?”

Trying to sound casual I replied, “I think so; she seems to appreciate the company, and there are some nice walks in the forest.”

“Become a nature lover have you?” mum said, and added a bit huffily, “I didn’t think Emma lacked company.”

“Mum, you did say you’d like me and Emma to be friends so…”

Dad came into the room and mum said to him, “Robert says he’s been invited to visit Emma again next weekend.”

“Lucky him.”

“What does that mean?”

Dad grinned; “Perhaps Emma’s got the hots for him.”

“Don’t be so crude,” mum protested, “Emma’s wouldn’t…”

“Or perhaps he’s got the hots for her.”

“Really Harold,” mum exploded, “I’m sure Robert and Emma would never do anything…”

“I’m late for work,” dad said untruthfully because he was on the afternoon shift that week, and fled the house thereby avoiding mum’s mounting ire.

“Really, your father can be so…”

“I’ll be going straight there after Friday lectures,” I said, adding fuel to mum’s fire.

“You’re not up to something with her are you?” mum asked suspiciously. “I know about Emma and men.”

“What would I be up to with Emma?” I asked ingenuously.

Mum’s face flushed and she stammered, “Well…well…you could be…you might…come on we’ve got to get to the university.”

Mum drove us to the university but the parking situation was so horrendous we might just as well have left the car in the garage and walked there because by the time we’d found a parking space it was so far away it was about the same distance. Perhaps there was something to living in the outer suburbs after all, especially if you worked in the suburb and didn’t have to use those commuter trains.

I sneaked into the lecture ten minutes late and got a fierce look from the lecturer. I might just as well not have bothered to attend since my mind was full of Emma and her crocodile grip.

For the rest of the week I continued in a state of dreaminess over Emma and felt constantly irritated because Friday never seemed to arrive. It might have been a mistake, but I didn’t seek relief from sexual tension with any of my regulars, and I only masturbated once, having decided that I must store up sexual potency for Emma.

I telephoned Emma to let her know which train I would be catching, and she told me mum had rung her, asking about my coming visit. “She’s suspicious,” Emma said, “but I didn’t give anything away. I just told her that we had discovered a mutual interest in nature, which I suppose is true.”

I didn’t need to be told that mum was suspicious and dad kept giving me suggestive winks.

I suppose mum was just behaving like a lot of mothers; no girl is good enough for their son. I suppose they think that the only woman good enough was themselves, which makes for some interesting contemplation on the feelings mothers have for their sons.

I admit it was a bit different in my case because the “aunt” fiction had always been maintained, and Emma was quite a bit older than me. But then, the news is that young guys these days seem to prefer older women. Having now experienced one I understood why.

* * * * * * * *

I caught the four thirty train which was just before the commuter rush hour. It was another old rattle trap but it eventually got me to the station and waiting Emma.

I was trembling with anticipation as I got off the train. Emma made a big hugging deal of greeting me and she was trembling as well. She seemed to be in a hurry as she drove me to her place.

We had barely got inside the house when she grabbed me and kissed me and said, “Quick darling, I need you, just a quickie before we eat.”

It was certainly a “quickie.” All Emma did was to take off the trousers of the pant suit she was wearing and her panties and lay on the bed with her legs spread wide. I didn’t even bother to remove my jeans. I simply got my already erect penis out and penetrated her.

Like me she was thoroughly worked up, her vagina hot and wet, and as soon as I was deep in her she gave me the crocodile treatment. I know it’s probably not correct, but I always felt that the grip sucked the sperm out of me.

Whatever the case we were both groaning and wailing within seconds as I spurted my cum into her.

When she had recovered Emma said, “God, I needed that, let’s have something to eat.”

I contemplated a very interesting weekend ahead.

I suppose that weekend we were engaged in feeling each other out — in both senses of that phrase. I can recall that at one stage Emma said, “I’m a bit of a nymphomaniac you know.”

“Nymphomaniac,” I yelped.

“Only a bit, darling,” she chuckled, “it’s just that I like lots of sex; would you like to try coming between my breasts, I know some men like that?”

It was after I’d finished coming and I was still sitting astride Emma that I took up her words, “some men like that.”

Cautiously because I didn’t want to foreclose on this sexual cornucopia too soon I asked, “Er…Emma, about other men…”

“Oh yes,” she said cheerfully, “there’s been a few…darling, would you mind getting off me now and pass me some tissues, I want to clean up my face.”

I got the tissues and playing the gentleman once again I carefully removed my sperm from her face.

When I’d finished and was lying beside her fondling her breasts she said, “You were asking about other men, you’re not jealous are you?”

“I was, but I wasn’t going to admit it, so I said, “No, I was just curious; they didn’t last did they?”

She sighed and said, “No, not for long. You see it was often a matter of stamina.”


“Yes, well, if they can’t get it up more than once in twenty four hours what’s it going to be like later on in a relationship? All right, I admit that some of them dumped me because they said I was too demanding, and none of them seemed to be willing to give me what I want…”

“Lots of sex?”

“Yes,” she said, “that and other things.”

“What other things?” I asked, anxious in case I also failed to give them to her.

“Ah, we can deal with that later,” she said, avoiding the question.


“You do like it with me, don’t you Robert?”

“Well of course I do,” I answered sincerely, “it’s the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Wonderful,” she said enthusiastically, “I think we’re going to suit each other very nicely.”

I felt relieved because it sounded as if I was going to enjoy her for some time into the future.

She had been fondling my penis and she suddenly cried out, “My God Robert you’re not horny again already, are you?”

“I’m afraid so,” I replied.

“Then I’d better fix it for you, darling, and make sure I have an orgasm, and don’t pull out of me until you’re certain I’ve finished; a lot of men pull out too soon and it’s very frustrating to be left stranded.”

I didn’t leave her stranded that time, or at any other time that weekend.

* * * * * * * *

If you think we spent the whole weekend fucking, then you’re wrong. We did go for a hike, but we didn’t go to the posh restaurant because Emma prepared the meals — well I did do some peeling and slicing.

It all looked very comfortable and almost domestic, but one problem loomed; the next weekend, and at the rate we were going other weekends into the foreseeable future. It had to become obvious, mum and dad would know what we were doing.

When I raised this with Emma she got quite stern and said, “Robert, we’re both adults and can make up our own minds what we want to do. I got that telephone call from your mother, and although she has always been like an older sister to me, she was oozing with motherly jealousy. If you think I’m worth visiting and making love with, then…”

“Of course you’re worth visiting,” I protested, and almost added, “I love you,” but I was still wary of the love business; it often meant commitment and although I’d have liked Emma to be committed to me, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be committed to her, long term; such was my selfish ambivalence.

On the other hand Emma became an obsession with me and for the next couple of weekends I visited her. My parents went very quiet on the subject, probably thinking they’d open a Pandora’s Box if they said anything.

I’m not sure, but I think mum probably thought, “He’ll get over her, or she’ll get over him.” And dad’s attitude seemed to be, “Good luck to him.”

The procedure with Emma was usually the same, a quickie as soon as we got into the house. I don’t think Emma had engaged in sex during the week, and I certainly hadn’t — that was odd because I’d never been so reticent before. I was infatuated with Emma, and if that was bad sign, I reveled in it.

* * * * * * * *

Now I must say, Emma had not really been frank with me. It was after one of our quickies that she announced, “You’ve done it, darling.”

“Have I — what?”

“I’m fairly sure I’m pregnant…what’s the matter, you’ve gone very pale.”

“Pregnant,” I gasped.

“Yes,” she said calmly — her cool was amazing considering her announcement — “isn’t it wonderful”

“Wonderful,” I expostulated, “I…I…what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know what we are going to do,” she replied, sounding somewhat aggrieved, “but I know what I’m going to do.”

“What?” I asked.

“I’m going to have a baby of course. What are you getting so upset about?”

“Upset, of course I’m upset, I can’t…”

“I’m not asking you to,” she responded haughtily. “I can look after myself and a baby.”

“But money, I haven’t got…”

“Oh don’t be so dense Robert, I know you haven’t. I’ve got all the money I need, mum left me well off when she died so…”

If some of the girls I’d been with got pregnant there would have been all hell let loose…”My God Emma, you planned it.”

“You should have been more observant Robert,” she admonished me. “Did you use a condom?”


“I’m not on the pill and did you see me insert a diaphragm?”


“Well what did you expect?”

“I didn’t expect…how is it you didn’t get pregnant with those other men?”

“Because I did use a diaphragm you silly boy.”

“But why…why me?”

“Why me…why me,” she mimicked. “Looking for an ego trip are you?”

“No but…”

“All right, I’ll tell you. First, because I’ve always been fond of you, and…”

“Fond of me!”

“Don’t interrupt Robert. Second I fancied you like hell when you first started to get horny over me. Third, I’m likely to remain fertile for a long time yet, but I thought I’d better get started now.”

“Started, do mean you’re going to have more?”

“Yes, and I told you not to interrupt, and fourthly, and here’s your ego trip, I thought with your looks I’d have a chance of getting a good looking child.”

“And who are you going to have the others with,” I said sneeringly.

Unexpectedly Emma began to weep. “That was a beastly thing to say, Robert.”

“Really, and why is that?”

“I thought it would be with you.”

That floored me. What could you say to a woman that actually wants to have babies with you? In that moment it occurred to me that this was as higher compliment as a woman could pay you.

I felt a lump in my throat, and I was having difficulty breathing. I put my arms round her and said, “Don’t cry Emma…please don’t cry…I didn’t mean…of course its lovely that you want a baby with me, but I didn’t expect…”

What the hell was happening to me, I suddenly felt loving and protective? Why didn’t I run out and catch the next train back to town? After all, she’d said she could look after herself and the baby without any help for me so…my God, I loved her.

“We’ll have to get married,” I said.

“No we won’t,” she said vehemently, “not until after the baby is born and I can be sure of you.”

“But you can be sure of me now.”

“No I can’t. Men can sometimes be grateful for a good fuck…”

“You shouldn’t use language like that; it’s not good for the children.”

There was a pause, and then we burst out laughing. As our laughter subsided I said the dreaded words.

“I love you.”

* * * * * * * *

At first mum was horrified, “how could you and Emma…she’s years older than you…and a baby…my God, we’ll never live this down…”

But on the other hand dad said, “You’ll have to do the honorable thing.”

I explained that Emma wouldn’t let me, not until, after the baby was born, but of course, I did do the honourable thing eventually, and I did have a wife who could support me financially.

The only problem was that I had to catch that dammed commuter train morning and evening, but we had to move after I’d finished my course because of my work, and we needed a bigger house anyway because we’d had a couple more children.

I must say I struck it lucky. Emma is a good mother and is wonderful in bed. In addition she a dammed good cook, so I seem to have got the lot, but there are not so many quickies these days. We’ve got plenty of time for longies.

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