Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: The Unforgettable Jemima
   Summary: When his daughter's hot friend comes to stay, can her father
resist temptation?
   Keywords: cum, young, sixteen, schoolgirl, asian, korean, small, cute,
anal,erotic,
   "Dad,you haven't forgotten that my friend Jemima is staying over for the
weekend, have you?" Sara reminded her father that morning.
   "Course not.  Jemima?  Have I met her before?" Paul, her dad, asked.
   "No, but I went to her sixteenth last month, remember?"
   "Um, yes, I remember now."
   "She's nice, you'll like her.  Later." She skipped out of the door and
off to school.
   Paul made a mental note that there would be another for dinner since he
had forgotten.  He would, however, not forgot Jemima again.
   ***
   He heard the front door slam as he busied himself in the kitchen, making
dinner.  It was just gone four that Friday afternoon.
   "Dad?" he heard his daughter call.  "Dad?"
   "In the kitchen."
   Sara came in, her usual effervescent self.  "Dad, look who I brought."
   From behind Sara her friend stepped into the room, the sunlight
streaming in from the window, catching her in its golden beams.
   She stood a little taller than Sara.  Her deep brown eyes darted about
the room as she took in her surroundings.  A small, cute nose, thin lips,
and lightly rouged cheeks completed her beautiful Asian features.  She had
long black wavy hair, snaking over her shoulders and down her
burgundy-coloured blazer, which had the school emblem about where the heart
is.  The blazer hugged her slim figure, over the curve of her small tits,
and to her waist.  A short, pleated grey skirt showed off her long, smooth
legs.  Skirt was an over-statement however, there was barely any material
there at all.  A pair of white socks and black shoes finished her outfit.
Paul couldn't help but feel a stirring in his groin at the sight of her.
   "Dad," Sara said, coming to stand by him, "don't stare."
   He hadn't realised he had been.  He licked his dry lips and fumbled for
words.  Your friend is fucking gorgeous, he wanted to say.  Instead,
"Welcome, Jemima," emerged from his lips.
   "Thank you for having me, Mr Quincy" she replied politely.
   "Please, call me Paul."
   "Sure thing, Paul.  Sara never said she had such a handsome father."
   He blushed and Sara chided her friend, "Don't tease, Jem."
   Jemima smiled, a little mischievously Paul thought.  "I'm only joking,
obviously," she said with a wink.
   "Dinner ready soon, Dad?"
   "Ten minutes."
   The two girls disappeared upstairs and Paul realised he had a full
erection as he stirred the boiling pasta - images of Jemima lingered in his
memory, a not unpleasant experience.  She's your daughter's school friend,
he reminded himself reluctantly though.  Look but don't touch.
   ***
   They returned shortly, giggling about something.  Paul had just finished
putting the plates and cutlery on the kitchen table.
   Sara had put on tee shirt and black leggings.  Jemima was wearing a
sleeveless lemon-coloured blouse and fashionable short denim skirt.  Paul
tried not to stare but couldn't stop himself from peeking at her when he
got the opportunity.  Well, I'm only human, he thought in justification.
   "Drink?" Sara asked her friend.
   "Got any juice?"
   Sara checked the cupboard.  "Orange or blackcurrant."
   "Orange."
   "Dad?"
   "Thanks but I'm having coffee."
   They all sat around the circular table.  Paul placed a large, steaming
bowl of rigatoni pasta with mackerel and seasoning in the middle and
invited them to help themselves.
   In turn they spooned a portion onto their plates.
   "Smells delicious," Sara said.
   They chatted about nothing in particular for a few minutes, then Jemima
asked.  "You and Mrs Quincy split up, Sara tells me."
   "Few years ago.  Then, after the divorce, she decided to go live in
Spain, so Sara came to live with me."
   "No offence to Mum, but Dad is so much more fun, ain't you Dad?"
   Paul blushed.
   "What about you, Jemima?  What's your story?"
   "My family came over here from Korea when I was seven.  I've got a
younger brother, a balding father, and an overly-protective mother," she
joked.
   "What do you like to do?"
   "I'm into dancing, music, netball, usual teenage stuff.  You?"
   "Looking after my daughter, working, usual adult stuff," he joked back.
   "You work out?"
   Paul nodded.  "Couple of times a week at the gym.  Why?"
   Jemima mused.  "You're not like all the skinny boys at school, that's
for sure."
   "You're doing final year GCSEs, like Sara?"
   "Sure am.  My parents want me to become a lawyer one day.  That ain't
gonna happen.  My favourite subjects are English, computers, and, of
course, biology.  Biology's a great subject, right?" He caught an
unmistakable twinkle in her eye as he glanced her way.
   Despite the tightening within his jeans, but kept his reply
innuendo-free.  "When I was a school kid, it was one of my favourites too."
Don't flirt with your daughter's friend, he told himself.
   Toby sauntered into the kitchen then.  He wrinkled his feline nose and
glanced about, gave their new visitor an inscrutable stare, then continued
on his way.
   "Toby," Sara enlightened her friend.  Jemima nodded.
   "He knows it's Friday.  We always watch a movie or something on a Friday
evening."
   "He likes to reserve the chair by the window," Sara added.
   They finished the meal and Paul tidied up the dirty plates and glasses.
   In the living room, Toby had indeed monopolised the sofa chair by the
window, leaving one chair and the sofa free.  Paul made himself comfortable
on the sofa.  "Why don't you girls select something."
   Sara loaded up Netflix on the TV.  "Anything interest you?"
   Jemima took the remote and scrolled through the titles.  "I like
thrillers," she said, "or comedy.  Here, look, a Billy Connolly stand-up
show.  He's hilarious."
   Sara took the spare chair as the intro music started.  "You don't mind
if I snuggle up with you, do you?" Jemima asked Paul.
   She joined him on the couch, barely inches from him, wrapping her feet
under her.  "He's so funny," she said quietly so Sara could not hear, "but
I prefer muscles to funny men any day." She looked over at him and caught
his eye.  There was no mistaking her meaning.  Paul gulped.  He stared back
into her eyes as a wave of hair slowly tumbled down over her cheek.  In the
back of his mind his conscious nagged him again - she's your daughter's
friend, don't!
   Paul tried to concentrate on the TV.  He laughed at the jokes and felt
happy inside as tears streamed down his face at a particularly funny
anecdote about cats.  Toby seemed unmoved.
   In a moment of boredom, however, he found his gaze returning to her. 
The lush expanse of her long, smooth legs; the hem of her skirt, which had
ridden up her legs, revealing the insides of her beautiful thighs and the
tantalising prospect of her pussy.  Her light blouse had the top two
buttons undone, possibly intentionally.  When he angled his head, he could
see down her front to the small lumps of her breasts and the frilly
material of her bra.
   There was a definite swelling in Paul's jeans now, he realised.  He
didn't know what to do.  If he tried to hide it somehow he might just draw
attention to it.
   Shit!  Jemima glanced from the TV and saw.  But she said nothing, merely
snuggled a little closer, resting her head on his shoulder, and made a
contented mmmmmmm sound.  Sara laughed out at a joke, oblivious to what was
happening on the sofa.
   Try as he might, he couldn't get his erection to disappear.  He could
feel the warmth of her resting against him, the faint aroma of her perfume,
the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed; he wanted her, he wanted
her so bad.
   ***
   Before he knew it, they were all laughing at the comedian's jokes again
and his mind had strayed from thoughts of Jemima.  He felt a little more
relaxed.
   The show drew to a close and the credits began to roll up the screen.
   "Do you girls have plans for the weekend?" Paul asked.
   "We're going shopping tomorrow.  Sunday, we don't know.  Jem doesn't
have to be home until Sunday evening, do you Jem?"
   Jemima shook her head.  "No.  I'll be around all weekend."
   ***
   As it turned out, Paul barely saw the girls that Saturday.  Apart from a
brief encounter at breakfast, the girls were out of the house.  He decided
to pay a trip to the gym for a few hours, not that he wanted to impress his
daughter's school friend or anything like that, he told himself.
   Weight training, treadmill, rowing machine, and more weights followed by
an invigorating cold shower.  He forgot all about Jemima, until he returned
home.
   The house was unlocked when he tried the front door; he heard the sounds
of girls chatting and wandered through the house to the back door, which
opened out onto the garden.
   The girls were laid out on sun loungers.  Sara wore a modest bikini
compared to the small attire barely covering her friend.
   "Dad," Sara waved enthusiastically.
   He gave them a weak wave in return, trying not to stare but failing.
   Jemima wore a large, brown pair of sunglasses.  She raised them up and
rested them in her hair.  "Come and join us," she suggested.
   "No, no," blurted Paul.  "I have things to do." He quickly retreated
before his dirty thoughts could get the better of him again.
   He went to his bedroom and changed into a casual tee shirt and trousers.
His room overlooked the back garden.  The sounds of the girls voices
drifted up.  Temptation got the better of him though.  He went to the
corner of the window and spied down on them, careful not to be noticed.
   His gaze took in Jemima, scanning every inch of her luscious body from
head to toe.  Those beautiful legs; the little bikini top covering her
small but perky breasts; that long, curvy black hair that spilt over her
shoulders like molten jet.  A bulge had sprung up in his pants and he
licked his dry lips.
   Sara said something about getting a drink and got up, disappearing from
view.  He edged a little closer to the window, being careful so as not to
be seen.
   Her gaze was upward, but he couldn't tell exactly where she was looking
because of the sunglasses.  She couldn't see him, he was sure.
   But then, she slid a hand down her belly and under her bikini bottoms.
   "Fuck," he breathed.
   She started to rub herself, pushing the bottoms down a little as she
did. He caught sight of her black pubic hair.
   The bulge in his pants hardened, expanded.
   Did she know he was watching?  Could she see him?
   He pulled back from the window, breathing fast.  "Jesus," he muttered,
shaking his head.
   He heard sounds again, Sara returning to the garden.  He daren't look
again.
   ***
   Paul barely saw the girls again as the afternoon turned into evening and
evening blurred into night.  They'd been out for a takeaway earlier; he saw
the remnant plastic containers left in the kitchen bin, and the smell of
Chinese food had drifted through the house.
   He relaxed in his bedroom, watching an indistinct film before settling
in his bed and preparing for sleep.
   His phone chimed with a message.
   Who's bothering me at this hour?  he wondered, turning his bedside lamp
on and picking up the phone.
   He didn't recognise the number, but the name he knew: Jemima.
   Are you awake?  she asked.
   He replied, yes.  Then, how did you get this number?
   Copied it from Sara's phone when she wasn't looking.  Naughty me.
   Before he knew what he was doing, he replied, yes you are so naughty.
   "Shit," he whispered to himself.  What am I doing??
   You want me?  she asked.  A photo appeared in the conversation view.  A
selfie of her, but with just her head and shoulders visible, biting her lip
suggestively.
   Fuck, you're beautiful, he thought for the twentieth time since meeting
her only the day before.
   Paul scrutinized the photo.  It had been taken in the kitchen, he
realised.
   His fingers hovered over the on-screen keyboard as he contemplated his
response.
   ***
   He never sent the response.
   Jemima, stood in only a tee shirt in the dark kitchen at midnight, was
ready to give up on him when a figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted
in the darkness.
   "I knew you'd come," she whispered.
   Paul flicked a light switch and two side lighters silently flickered to
life, banishing the dark but only half lighting the room.  He carefully
closed the door behind him.  It shut with a barely audible click.
   He walked up to her, his erection full and hard already.  Perhaps, deep
down, he'd known too that this was always going to happen.
   Even in the semi-darkness, he found her beautiful.  He cupped her chin
with his hand, her smooth young skin like silk against his.  He angled her
face upwards and leant in to kiss her.
   As their lips touched, her soft tongue explored his mouth; his erection
ached for her.
   Breaking their kiss, he slid his hands to her hips, his aroused crotch
barely an inch from hers.
   "I...I've never had a man before," she confessed.  "Boys, yes.  But not
a proper man.  A man like you."
   "I promise I won't disappoint."
   Despite her usual confidence, he could feel her shudder with nervousness
as he peeled off her tee shirt, leaving her stood there naked.
   He took in her gorgeous body: the sensuous line of her neck; the curve
of her small tits; her womanly thighs; the little curls of black hair about
her pussy; those long, shapely legs.
   Paul kissed her again and felt her tongue forcing itself into his mouth.
She was as eager as he.  He moved a hand between her thighs and jammed a
finger into her; his digit was met by her warm, wet cunt.
   He extracted his mouth from hers; her breath was heavy and hot against
his neck.  She longed for more.
   He kissed at her neck and chest.  Her areolae were large and dark, her
nipples almost black.  Paul wrapped his lips about one, sucked it gently.
She moaned, forcing her tit into his mouth.  He nibbled the nipple,
circling it with his tongue, savouring her like fine wine.
   Jemima moaned quietly as he moved to the other one, teasing it with the
tip of his tongue before encasing it with his mouth.
   "Don't stop," she murmured.
   He glided a finger back into her cunt as he pleasured her breasts.  She
bit her lip when he clamped his teeth about a nipple and tugged playfully.
   Her cunt, when he reached it, was glistening wet.  He split her red,
swollen pussy lips with his fingers to reveal the pink flesh there.  He
tasted and smelt her womanhood as he played his tongue over her clit.
   Her hands rested on the back of his head, wanting to keep his head
there, not wanting this feeling to end.
   But he pulled away, aware that his cock was throbbing in his pyjama
pants.  Jemima watched agape as they were pushed down to proudly reveal his
erect member.
   Skilfully, fluidly, he turned her about and made her bend over the
kitchen table.  In a few hours he'd be enjoying breakfast there with his
daughter, but for now, he was going to fuck the hell out of this girl.
   He tapped his feet against her heels to encourage her to open her legs
wider.  She spread them in a V shape.  She had no resistance to him.  She
would have let him do whatever he wanted, had he asked.
   Stood behind her, Paul moaned with supreme satisfaction as he slid his
cock into her waiting, soaking pussy.
   "Fuck," he breathed.  "Oh, fuck."
   He grabbed her waist for traction and started to move.
   "You're fucking beautiful," he said to her, but wasn't sure if she even
heard.  All he could see of her was the back of her head and her black hair
fanned out, spilling onto her back and the table under her.
   He sped up, pressing deeper into her with each stroke.  Her pussy felt
so good and he glided with ease.  Her panting and moaning increased with
each stroke.  He wanted to tell her to be more quiet, they didn't want to
wake Sara, but he would love to hear her scream his name when she came.
   Paul fucker her harder, pounding against her, his balls swaying
violently like two led weights.
   He heard her moan something into the table, her voice muffled. 
"Harder...  fuck me harder."
   The wooden kitchen table rattled and squeaked as he obliged.  He thought
it might give in, it sounded in pain.
   Remembering they didn't want to wake Sara, Jemima muffled her screams as
she orgasmed, her body shuddering with pure sexual fulfilment.
   On the verge of coming, Paul pulled out, rolled her over.  Her body was
glistening with sweat; strands of hair stuck to her sweaty face and neck.
Her expression was one of ecstasy.
   Taking his cock in his hand, he tugged and immediately brought himself
to climax, spitting his hot cum onto her tits and neck like an alpha male
marking his posession.  She absently started to rub the sticky fluid into
her tits, then sucked a finger to taste it and smiled.  Paul lay back
against the kitchen wall, his legs suddenly feeling weak.
   ***
   The following morning, they all ate breakfast and chatted about the
weather, pancakes, whatever subject came to mind.  When Sara broached the
topic of whether Jemima could stay again, her dad had no objections.
   pics---->> http://bit.ly/1D1q3qp
  
The Unforgettable Jemima