Just a Friend

I'm single and pushing forty. Why do people insist that divorced is different to being single? It's not. In both instances you don't have a wife. I used to have one but we came to an amicable parting of the ways a few years back. We'd just grown and developed in different ways and, while friends, we decided we were both better of going our separate ways.

I have a son, Ian, recently turned eighteen. He's currently living with me but I suspect that won't be the case for much longer. The advantage of living with me is that I tend to pick up the bills. The disadvantage is that I'm always there in the background. A teenager doesn't really want his father always there. He's already sounded me out as to my helping him get a place of his own.

My son was the cause of what happened. He came home one evening and he had a lovely young lady in tow. Even from a doting parent's perspective, my son is only average. Reasonably intelligent, reasonably fit, reasonably handsome. So it was a bit of a shock to see him turn up with a young lady who was a bit of a stunner, to say the least.

Lyn was blonde and beautiful. A very shapely figure, with high, full, (very full) breasts. She had a charming smile and seemed full of life. I was prepared to swear that she was also a couple of years older than my son, so how the hell did he latch onto her?

I was even more startled when he said that Lyn was staying the night. We only have the two bedrooms, mine and his, and I didn't think she'd be sleeping in mine. As a matter of fact, I'd guarantee that if she spent the night in my bedroom it wouldn't be sleeping.

"Geez, Dad, get your mind out of the gutter," Ian growled at me, blushing. "It's nothing like that. Lyn is a friend and she needs somewhere to stay tonight and I told her she could stay here. That's all there is to it. I'll make up our spare bed for her."

I hadn't said a damn word. Ian was just jumping to conclusions as to what I was thinking. Pretty accurate conclusions, I'll admit.

I spread my hands, trying my best to look innocent of any evil thoughts, quickly re-dressing Lyn in my mind.

"Whatever you say, Ian," I told him. "I hadn't thought anything else."

The look on his face showed that he still suspected me of low thoughts. The slight smile on Lyn's face told me that she didn't suspect me of low thoughts. She knew with a hundred percent certainty that I had them. Ian was totally wasting a golden opportunity in my opinion.

Ian caught me alone and gave me the background. Lyn was, as he said, a friend. She shared a room with another girl. The other girl had a boyfriend staying overnight and sleeping in the same room as an amorous couple was not an option Lyn wanted to take. When I asked why she didn't just go and sleep on a couch or something Ian hedged a bit, and then told me that Lyn didn't trust her friend's boyfriend. She was concerned that he might come and visit her during the night and as far as she was concerned it was over her dead body, so she'd been looking for somewhere to stay for the night.

So Lyn had dinner with us. She had quite an engaging personality and I found her a genuinely likable young woman. I also revised my opinion about her and Ian. Too much woman for him. She'd eat him alive. He needed a gentler personality, also someone a little younger than him, rather than older. Strike Lyn as a prospective daughter-in-law.

Eventually we all retired for the night. I didn't bother to check what sort of arrangements Ian had made for Lyn. I knew perfectly well they would be quite chaste. I just went to bed and spelt the sleep of the just and righteous.

In the morning, instead of wandering out to the kitchen in my underwear, I took an extra couple of minutes to toss on a track suit. Ian, I knew, would have already risen and gone to work. He was on an early shift this weekend. Me, I had the weekend free. Lyn, I had no idea. She might have risen and departed at the same time as Ian and she might still be asleep. I didn't want to shock her, if she was still here, hence the tracksuit.

I was brewing coffee when Lyn came wandering into the kitchen. It was obvious from her tousled condition that she'd just got out of bed. She was wearing plain flannelette pyjamas, the type that are normally referred to as passion killers. They failed to live up to their reputation. Lyn looked adorable, a sexy and sleepy kitten, ruffled hair, still half asleep.

"Good morning," I said cheerfully. "Like some coffee?"

She nodded, smiling and I poured her a cup. We drank our coffee and chatted, not saying anything much. She'd just finished off her coffee when I broached the subject that I was interested in.

"So, you and Ian, just friends," I said.

"Mmm," she said with a nod. "I like him, he's a nice kid, but just friends."

Nice kid. Those words were the death knell if Ian had any thoughts at all of the friendship developing.

We talked for a few more moments and then I got up and put my breakfast dishes in the sink. Turning away from the sink I promptly bumped into Lyn who was standing there, waiting to put her cup on the sink. The first thing I noticed was that she had very soft bumpers. The next thing was how sweet and sexy she felt against me.

Now my arms had automatically gone around her to make sure that I didn't knock her over, with my hands closing around her bottom. I didn't squeeze her or try to take advantage. I did, however, decide to tease her a little. I lifted my hands to her waist and slipped them under her pyjama pants, meaning to pluck at the edge of her panties, as though my hands might slip under them.

I'd just made one little error. She was wearing pyjamas and only pyjamas. No panties. My hand was wandering over a nice warm bottom.

"My, my," I murmured. "No panties. Naughty girl. You know, it makes one wonder?"

Just what I was wondering became evident as I slid my hands out from under her pyjama pants and up under her top, running my hands up her back. Reaching where her bra strap should be and finding only warm skin, I shook my head.

"Oh, dear, what do have we here?" I said softly, my hands moving around to her front, sliding smoothly over her breasts.

Lyn was blushing furiously and breathing a little harder. Her nipples were peaking under my caress, even though I wasn't paying them any special attention.

"Take your hands away, please," Lyn demanded in a husky sounding voice, and I reluctantly moved them away from her breasts.

That's not to say I took them right off her. I just sent them back where they started, sliding under her pyjama pants and caressing her bottom.

As well as caressing Lyn's bottom I was also holding her against me. Something was stirring and from the slightly flushed look on Lyn's face she could feel it. I know I could.

"Take your hands out of my pyjamas, please," she requested, apparently still determined to be polite about it.

"If you insist," I said, not moving my hands.

Actually, I was moving them, up and down and round and round, gently massaging. Just not moving them out of her pyjamas.

"I insist," she said, sweetly. "I really do."

So I withdrew my hands, or most of them, anyway. I left my thumbs hooked over the waist of her pyjamas, an elasticized waist, not a tie cord. I started to push the pyjamas down.

"What do you think you're doing," Lyn demanded.

"Trying to satisfy both our requirements," I pointed out. "You don't want my hands under your pyjamas and I want to stroke your bottom. The simplest solution is to get rid of the pyjamas."

I already had the pyjamas a fair way down and there wasn't much Lyn could do about it. She couldn't bend down and grab them because she was still plastered against me. I left her pyjamas down around her knees, hands coming back up to claim her bottom.

"But I don't want your hands on my bottom," Lyn protested.

"Well, why didn't you say so before I pushed your pyjamas down?" I asked. "However, if it makes you happier. . ."

My hands moved back up to cup her breasts.

"I am shocked," I said. Lyn had just said a very rude word.

"Am I to understand that you might want me to take my hands off you?" I asked her.

"You know damn well I do," she snapped.

"I'll do you a deal," I suggested, smiling. "You let me take off your top and I'll take my hands off you."

To show my good intentions I, reluctantly, moved my hands away from her breasts, bringing them down to take hold of the edge of her top.

"Why should I?" Lyn demanded. "You should just keep your hands to yourself."

"True, I should," I agreed. "And once your top is off, I will."

I started lifting her top and Lyn didn't say anything, just giving me a furious look. When I suggested she lift her arms she did so, and I took the pyjama top up and over her head. Then I stood back and looked at her. Definitely a sight for sore eyes.

"You look ridiculous with these bunched around your knees," I pointed out, reaching out with a toe to push her pyjama bottom further down. "You might as well step out of them."

Lyn bent and whipped the pyjamas off, standing again to stare at me defiantly, magnificently nude.

"Are you satisfied now?" she demanded.

"Don't be ridiculous," I told her. "Of course not."

I continued to look at her, one finger pressing against my mouth as I considered what to do.

"What are you up to," demanded Lyn. "I'd like to go and get dressed. That is, if you don't mind."

"I mind. I mind very much. As to what I'm up to, I'm wondering what would be the best way to get you into bed with me. For that matter, even the bed isn't really required as long as I get you."

"I am not going to bed with you."

It was a very flat, definite statement.

"Well, like I said, the bed isn't essential. I'll be just as happy to take you wherever we happen to be," I said smiling happily. "However, I can't help but feel that what you really mean is that you don't intend to make love to me."

"Got it in one," agreed Lyn.

"Why not?"

"Why not?!"

"I asked first," I pointed out. "So, why not."

"I don't even know you. We've only just met."

"So? Lot's of people have sex the first time they meet. Some willingly, some unwillingly. Not that I'm in favour of an unwilling partner. Seems rather tacky to me."

"Well, why the hell should I?" she demanded, throwing it back on me.

"First, because I'm asking you to. Second, because I really want you to. Third, because you want to but feel restricted by social mores that say you shouldn't. Social mores are rather silly that way."

"I do not want to," Lyn snapped, bridling at the suggestion.

"Then you should sue your body for telling lies about you," I said, reaching out and lightly touching an erect nipple.

"That doesn't mean a thing. I'm just cold."

"Oh?" I reached down towards her pussy, quite confident that I would find it to be hot and wet and ready. Her entire stance radiated her arousal, even if she wasn't willing to admit it.

Lyn hastily backed a little further away.

"Don't touch me. You said you'd keep your hands off me."

"I did, and it's not my hands I want to touch you with, but I wasn't sure if you were ready for me to touch you with something else at this stage."

Her eyes flicked down, taking in the bulge in front of my trousers. She swallowed and looked elsewhere.

"If you'll excuse me," Lyn said, "I'm going to go and get dressed."

"No," was my simple reply.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean no, I won't excuse you. I like looking at you. Of course, if you want to run like a rabbit I won't prevent you."

"I'm not scared of you," she protested. "I just feel that it would be better for me to go and get dressed."

"I didn't say you were scared of me. Scared of having sex, maybe, but not specifically scared of me. So maybe you'd better scamper along."

Perverse things, women. Now that I'd told her to run along, she didn't. She wanted to argue the point. Not that I was going to complain. After all, she was still naked and aroused.

"I am not scared of having sex," Lyn told me, looking quite furious. "Just because I don't choose to have sex with you doesn't mean I'm scared of having sex."

"Of course not," I agreed. "Um, you were wanting to get dressed."

"I'm not," she insisted. "I just believe a woman has the right to decide these things for herself."

"I quite agree and I'm letting you. I haven't pounced on you, now have I? Run along."

Lyn opened her mouth to continue then stopped. As I watched, she took a deep breath (with her breasts moving in interesting ways) and visibly calmed down. I was quite impressed. (Notably by the way her breasts bounced when she took that big breath.)

"You are deliberately trying to get me going so that I'll say something stupid or feel that I have to prove myself by having sex with you," she stated.

"True," I agreed, smiling. "Is it working?"

"No, it's not."

"Not, uh?"

"Definitely not."

"Then do you mind if I try a different tactic?"

"Be my guest. It's not going to work."

"OK. I have noted that for all your refusals and protests you're still here, standing in front of me, naked. And aroused. No," I said quickly when she went to interject. "Your breasts show you're aroused so don't go telling silly little lies."

I put my hands lightly on her waist, pressing gently, causing her to move back until she was up against the kitchen table.

"What I'm going to do," I told her as I undid the tie on my tracksuit trousers, "is take you, here and now, leaning against the table. I will, of course, stop when you tell me to."

"But, you can't do that," she protested.

I moved closer, my erection now prominent. She leaned back away from me, but this only moved the top half of her body away from me. Her bottom was pressed against the edge of the table, her legs parted. My hand slid over her mons and cupped her mound, finding her lips protruding, and they felt hot and wet.

I didn't try to part her lips for an immediate entry. Feeling the state they were in I was content to press the tip of my cock against them, getting my hands out of the way so that Lyn had a clear view of what was happening.

"I said I wasn't going to have sex with you," she pointed out. "You're not supposed to do this."

I pressed a little harder and her lips yielded, just enough to let the head of my cock pass between them, then they softly closed over me. Lyn just stared down at where I'd started to enter her, seeming a little confused. She opened her mouth a couple of times but the only thing she managed to say was, "But".

While she dithered I continued lightly pressing against her. My cock moved slowly along her passage which seemed quite happy to yield to me, wrapping itself warmly around me as I went. I took the last little bit at a bit of a rush, giving a slightly harder thrust so that my groin slapped against hers.

I held myself there, firmly in her, still watching her face. Slowly she raised her eyes from where I had taken her to look at me, an astonished look on her face. My hands came up to capture her breasts and she blinked.

"If you're going to say stop, you'll need to do it very soon," I murmured softly, stroking her breasts.

Her eyes dropped down again, this time to where my hands were playing with her breasts, gently squeezing them while my thumbs rolled her nipples.

"You. . .," she said, seeming to struggle to find the right word.

". . . Bastard," she said, finding that elusive word.

I gently smiled at her and started to withdraw.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Don't worry," I said soothingly. "I'm not stopping. I'm just starting."

I pushed back into her. Not fast, just taking my time and letting her feel me moving back into her. I was quite gratified to find her responding and pushing against me.

Still moving nicely and slowly I continued to take her. At the same time I leaned forward, mouth fastening on her breast, lightly sucking it, tonguing her nipple, teasing it with my teeth. I trailed my mouth over to her other breast which was being offered, wanting the same treatment.

I started pumping her a little faster, feeling her moving beneath me, pushing harder, making sure she kept up with me. Harder still, feeling her respond while my mouth moved upwards, running along her neck. I suspected she'd have a few love bites before I was finished.

She was clinging to me now, one leg lifted and curled around me, hands hooked onto my shoulders. I was going to have scratches there, I was sure of it. I was now hitting my stride, driving home hard with long lusty strokes, Lyn making a groaning sound each time I slid along her passage, pushing urgently to meet me, wanting me deep within her.

I kept on at a fast but steady pace for as long as I could. I found the whole thing marvellous and Lyn certainly seemed to have no complaints. Not until the very end when she started demanding more. What she was getting wasn't enough to satisfy her and she wanted that little extra.

I gave her what she wanted. Hell, I wanted it, too. I drove in faster, trying desperately to push her over the edge, knowing I was about to fall and wouldn't be able to stop myself. It became a race, both of us striving to reach the end, with me coming home a winner by a whisker. Or by a single thrust, I should say. I came, spraying deeply inside her, and Lyn gave a shriek, clinging to me, shuddering as her own climax hit home.

In the aftermath Lyn leaned back against the table, breathing heavily. So was I, for that matter.

"Well, Lyn, having put forward my best argument, what's the chance of me getting you into bed?" I asked.

She looked at me for a moment, then shrugged.

"I'll consider your argument and reserve judgement," she told me. "Right now I have to get dressed. Some of us have to go to work this morning."

With that she pushed herself up off the table wand walked out of the kitchen, bending to snatch her pyjamas up off the floor as she went. I watched her go, the little minx deliberately rolling her hips so her bottom swished about.

I was fairly certain that she'd be back. Not positive, mind you, but fairly certain. Maybe that was wishful thinking. All I could do was wait and see. And buy her a bunch of flowers.