My son told me over the phone that this one’s a keeper, but it isn't until I open the front door to them both that I believe him.

“Hey, Dad.”

He steps over the threshold, gangly and towering over me, Lynx Africa wafting as we embrace, and I catch sight of her over his shoulder. Well, mostly her hair.

Pink. So pink.

The fading sun accents the highlights in her mane that tumbles messily and effortlessly over the low-cut crop top stretched across her incredible, braless, boobs. I'm transfixed. It certainly doesn't seem that cold out, but her nipples think otherwise and beg to be bitten. I can't help it; my mind erases the taut scrap of material above her belly piercing and I have to blink twice to restore reality.

She gives a girly wave, smiles and then pops her lollipop—pink, of course—back between natural lips, giving it a solid suck.

Aaron steps aside. “This is Molly.”

Her eyes twinkle in the golden sunset, a constellation of freckles spanning the bridge of her nose and upper cheeks. She takes the lolly out. “Pleased to meet you, Mr Tanning.”

Molly and her lolly. Easy to remember.

“Likewise. And please, call me Andrew. Come in.”

I pace back to let them pass. Aaron toes his shoes off and forges into the hallway before Molly crosses the threshold, her scent more delicate than Sir Sprayalot. The faint bounce to her gait makes her breasts jiggle as she draws level with me and pauses.

Now, I like to think I'm a gentleman in most situations. Respectful. Polite. Fairly selfless. But I'm also human, and that does cause issues. As she leans against the doorframe and is occupied untying her shoelace with one hand, I rove my gaze to take in the swell of her flawless chest, amply on display. I doubt any woman leaves the house without knowing how much they're showing off, so I conclude one thing: she's probably a tease.

No wonder Aaron fell for her. If I was his age, I would.

She drops the Converse on the mat and if I thought the exquisite view of her deep cleavage was good, when she stoops to remove the other shoe, she does a little hop to stabilize herself, half turning away from me. Her tiny denim cutoffs brush my crotch and then nudge it more firmly as she tugs the heel clear, the shoe plopping to the floor.

As if that wasn't enough, she bends again, fully this time at the waist, and I stifle a gasp at the hint of taut underbutt peeking below the tatty hem. She takes her time arranging the shoes on the rack, then does the same with Aaron’s, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

When she stands, giving a further little suck on her lolly, I swear she glances down at the forming bulge in my jeans, smirks and carries on into the hall. Could be my overactive imagination.

Shutting the door, I follow them into the lounge, her hips swaying ahead of me like a conductor’s baton. Shadows form and fade at the junction of her taut bum cheeks and those slender thighs, to the beat of her pace. It’s practised. Provocative. Precise.

So biteable.

Stop it, Andrew. Be a gentleman.

Astrid has gone all out, of course. Swedish hospitality. Cinnamon and ginger from the kanelbulle buns and pepparkakor biscuits dust the warm living room air as we take our seats, Aaron and Molly on the sofa diagonally opposite me, while Astrid collects drink orders. At least settling into the seat gives me an opportunity to subtly adjust the erection that will not yield to common sense.

What the hell just happened in the hallway? Did I imagine it? Or was it purposeful?

I turn my attention fully her way. “Aaron tells me you do bio-med?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She carries on sucking her lollipop.

“So how did you meet? It's a far cry from game design.”

She pops the lolly from her mouth and says, “Party,” at exactly the same moment as Aaron says, “Starbucks.”

They exchange a glance and I raise an eyebrow. “They have parties at Starbucks now? We should book.” I eye them both. Time tor a little fun. “Sure you don't want to go back outside and align your stories first? We've got all evening.”

“Dad...”

“Honestly, I don't mind. Dinner’s a while yet. Maybe your first kiss was after swimming with dolphins in space?”

Molly giggles and Aaron shakes his head. “Such. An idiot.” He sighs. “Fine. It was a party in our halls.”

“Didn't realize you were in the same block.”

Molly takes over. “We weren't, but we are now.”

“Don’t the wardens frown upon room sharing?”

She levels her gaze with mine. “I transferred in recently when someone dropped out.”

“Ah, okay. So where were you before?”

“Sheraton.”

All the block names filter through my head in turn, from the whirlwind of uni visits we had to do. “The all-girls block?”

She nods. “It was very… oestrogeny, so I jumped at the chance to move to a mixed block.” Casting her gaze to the mantelpiece where the tea lights flicker in their blown glass holders, she adds, “Too many Alpha females isn't much fun.”

Astrid returns with a tray. Pot of tea, cups and saucers for everyone except Aaron. She passes him the blackcurrant squash and I smile at her. “You never had a problem in your dorm with Alpha females did you?”

She mimes a whip cracking. “I saw most of them off.”

I laugh and lean back, lacing fingers behind my head. “Yeah, when you see something you like, you take it.”

She traces her attention all the way up me. “Quite.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “God you two. Company much?!”

Molly giggles again. “I don't mind banter. My brothers gave me stick all the time. Still do ‘cos I'm the youngest.”

Astrid pours the tea and passes the cups around before offering the buns and biscuits. Molly leans forward and takes one of each, while I do the decent thing and don't look at her tits.

Oh alright, fine, I do. Damn human fragility. A fleeting glimpse at the creamy flesh that turns into a stare, only broken when she sits back and tucks her feet up under her. Our eyes meet and I realise I've been busted, my cheeks flushing.

With the lolly parked in her grip, she flicks her eyes to my stirring crotch and bites into one of the buns. “Mmm, delicious.”

Astrid beams. “Traditional recipe. Handed down from my mother and her mother and goodness knows how many generations before.”

“They're excellent.”

We eat and drink a little more and I break the silence. “So what are you planning on doing with your degree after uni?”

“Not sure yet. Research maybe?” She dusts crumbs from her lap into her palm and deposits them on the plate, untucking her legs. I catch a flash of panty—pink, of course—and my hard-on receives the memo.

Look away, look away.

Cheeks flushing again, I divert my gaze but not before she notices my attention on her privates. And reciprocates.

Not. Helping.

“Any, uhh, specific field?”

“Andrew, stop interrogating the poor girl. Sorry, my dear. He gets like this.”

Molly waves her concerns away. “Don't worry. I get it. I have to be good enough for his only boy.”

I turn a shade redder. “It's not like that! I'm just interested.”

She tilts her head and flicks her eyes the length of me. “Glad you find me interesting,” she mocks, taking a sip of tea, replacing her cup on its saucer, lifting both feet off the floor and hugging her knees. Now there’s almost nowhere to look without an eyeful of her knickers. Deep pink. Cotton. Damp patch. Okay, I made that last one up, but that’s where my imagination rockets, wondering what she’d taste like as she clutched the back of my head and held my face against her underwear.

Stop it. Get a grip.

When she returns the lollipop to her mouth and sucks it, a brief flash of her kneeling in front of me surfaces from nowhere. The vision has such clarity: alternating sucks on her lolly then encasing my cock, the sugary residue catching as she glides me deeper into the warmth of her mouth, snorting hot breaths onto each disappearing inch, eyes locked on mine for approval. Lolly. Cock. Lolly. Cock. Over and over.

Would she be able to take it all, like Astrid can? Would she get wet trying, eyes watering with the effort?

I realise I’m staring, shake my head and snap my focus up to her liquid blue irises that catch the lamplight by my chair. “I'm always interested in whoever Aaron brings home.”

“Dad!”

He throws me a shut up stare and I backpedal. “Not that he brings loads of girls home. I didn't mean it like that, I mean they're all lovely and I don't judge. Well, when I say ‘all’, that makes it sound like he’s some kind of gigolo. We've only met one or two, maybe not even—”

“DAD!”

I shut my mouth and swing my attention to Astrid for a get-out. She just smiles.

“There’s a bigger spade in the garage, love.”

With a fleeting glance at Molly’s trim thighs and the tantalizing material at their convergence, I shake my head. “I'll go and tend to the meat.”

It’s Astrid’s turn to flick her gaze to my crotch. “That shouldn't take long.”

I don't rise to the jape, stand sharply, round the sofa and stride to the kitchen. Grabbing the oven gloves, I slide the roasting tin out onto the hob to baste it.

As I spoon spitting oil over the joint and potatoes, I try to shake the wayward thoughts.

My son's girlfriend of all people! How immoral. Is she teasing me on purpose or am I reading too much into it? A horny old man with a fertile imagination.

It could be innocent. Part of her nature. But what if it isn't? Would she cause trouble? How would I respond? Well, that’s obvious. Molly, as flattering as it is, I'm married and you're twenty-odd years younger than me. And she would suck on that lolly and look a little crestfallen as she twirls a fingertip through a stray lock of pink hair, then steps into my space, impossibly close without touching, sparks jumping from her to me like I’m some faulty taser, and she'd breathe, I know, so you'd better not kiss me. And you certainly shouldn't be touching me like that because we'll get into all sorts of trouble. Especially when you stroke my leg and, ohhh, when you drift it up to brush my cutoffs. Goodness me, Andrew, your fingers are so warm against my pink panties. You really shouldn't be stroking my puffy little slit through them. What if your wife finds us like this… or Aaron. God you're making me wet. Can you feel it staining my knickers? I bet you're dying to taste me aren't you? To yank these shorts down, peel off my sticky underwear and bury your nose and tongue into my tight little snatch as I clutch your head and beg for more. Do you like pink? So many different shades. Light pink like my panties. Darker pink like the gusset. The rich pink of my teenage pussy beneath. You're very naughty, Andrew, lapping at my clit and making me squirm like that. Look at all my sweet juices coating your mouth and chin. Do you like how I taste? I know I do. I bet your big, hard cock would feel so good stretching my tiny little hole. Mmm, yes. You're so big, much bigger than Aaron and, ohhh, yes I deserve that for teasing you. Your handprints sting but I need them. Need you to take me over. Mark me. Hurt me. Show me what a terrible slut I really am as you fu—

“Forgotten us already?”

I nearly drop the roasting tin at Astrid behind me, clattering it against the hob, heart thumping. “Jesus. You startled me, love.”

“Sorry.” She nods at the tray. “I think it's basted now.”

I stare down at my rhythmical spooning, and stop. Put the spoon on the trivet and return the tray to the oven, the blast of heat making me fully aware that I’m sporting a colossal boner. No way I can face her, so I stall, praying it goes away as I sidestep and open the overhead cupboard, taking my time fetching wine glasses. Opening the cutlery drawer, I count out what we need as she turns away and rummages in the fridge for the veg.

Thankfully, the inappropriate thoughts subside with my hard-on and I eventually turn and accept the vegetables. My wife smiles and whispers, “She seems nice.”

“Mmm.”

“Bubbly. A far cry from you know who.”

“Ha! Señorita Psycho was intense. God, remember when she told us about helping her mate evade the authorities after being a drug mule for the cartel?”

She giggles. “Couldn't sleep properly that night. Thought we were gonna get raided for harbouring a fugitive.”

I sigh. “He sure knows how to pick ‘em.”

Astrid brushes my hand. “He does. But go easy on this one, okay? Don't scare her off without giving her a chance.”

Picking up the peeler, I start on the carrots. “I promise. I'll be back once I've prepped.”

She leans in and kisses my cheek, and I watch her blonde hair sway as she strides from the room in her form-fitting jeans.

After I finish chopping the carrots and cabbage, I set the table in the open-plan dining area and return to the living room.

Molly tracks my entry. “How's the meat?”

“All good. Shouldn't be long.”

She lowers her gaze halfway down my body. “Yay. I'm getting hungry.“

No way I'm imagining it. Surely?!

Astrid picks up the treat plate. “Have these to keep you going.”

Reaching forward, she grabs a couple. “Thank you. You're so kind.”

My wife beams as Molly munches, still somehow keeping the lollipop in her grip and out of the way. Between mouthfuls, she asks, “So what's with all the A’s?”

I shuffle position in the armchair. “It seemed rude not to name him with the same letter as us. Twice. Sadly, a double vowel doesn't leave much choice; and we didn't think Aardvark suited him.”

She giggles and nudges his leg with hers. “Oh I dunno. He's got quite a mouth on him.”

Aaron colours. And so it continues, all through dinner. Molly is indeed bubbly. Vivacious. Flirtatious. Intelligent. She weighs in on politics with equal verve as her eager, “Yes please,” when I stand serving at the head of the table, and issue my standard joke: Anyone want stuffing? Her response and fleeting glance at my cock doesn't help my hardness subside, constant waves of arousal swelling me throughout the meal.

After clearing up and chit-chatting in the living room while I try my hardest to not get, well, hard leching at the glimpses of flesh and underwear, Aaron drives her home. Astrid and I retire to the bedroom. The more I think about Molly's acts, the more convinced I am she’s tormenting me.

But why? What can I do?

As I undress, I cast my gaze through the open en suite door at my wife brushing her teeth in just her black panties and Green Day T-shirt. Such a beautiful sight, curvy and alluring and surely the perfect antidote to lascivious thoughts of my son's girlfriend.

I pace naked into the room and she squeaks as I wrap my arms around her, sliding my hands up under her top. She'd removed her bra already and I cup her ample tits, squeezing as she finishes off and spits the toothpaste.

My lips find her neck while she dries her mouth, and I nuzzle, issuing playful bites. She rolls her head and moans. “Mmm, I like that.”

Nipping her flesh, the vibrations in her throat make me shiver and I squeeze her boobs harder as she rocks back into my cuddle. The soft cotton panty material grinding against me soon has an effect and I re-harden for the umpteenth time, nestled in the cleft of her sumptuous bum.

I roam my nibbles up the side of her neck to her ear. Catch it between my teeth and whisper, “Fuck I want you.”

“Mmm. The bed’s behind us.”

“Not there. Here. Right here. Now.”

I detect her shudder, and her nipples firm as I massage them between thumb and forefinger. Our gazes lock in the mirror ahead of us and my wife growls as I up the intensity of both my pinches and bites on her neck.

“What's gotten into you?”

I trace my hands down to her hips and pull her tighter against my length. “Nothing. I can't ravish my gorgeous wife on a Saturday night?”

Through half-lids, she takes in my hunger and snakes her hand up past mine to reach behind my head, tugging my lips against her neck. “You always were a smooth talker.”

I barely break eye contact, her arousal surfacing as I mark her flesh with my teeth. Lacing her fingers in my hair, she pulls me away slightly. “Careful. It's too warm for polar necks at work.”

I kiss her shoulder through her top. “Should I mark something less visible then?”

Letting go of her, I grab her hand and plant it firmly on the unit ahead of us, stepping to one side. I swat her bottom and she moans. “Ohhh, God, that sting. I've missed that.”

My caress soothes her, before I raise my hand and crack it against her panties, harder. Her cry reverberates off the white walls, swallowed by the low hum of the fan and I brush the strike point, warm against my fingertips. I lean in and whisper, “More?”

She nods. “Much more.”

My palm finds her backside again and again as she bows her head and takes each spank, crying out as the blush begins to peep below the leg elastic of her knickers that curve down over her gorgeous rump and disappear between her thighs.

When her breath stifles a sob, I stop and soothe the area, her sighs rising. I stroke her hip. “Look at me.”

She swings her gaze up to our reflection, lips parting with need and I roll her underwear down below her glowing butt, digging my hand into the gap it leaves behind.

Astrid steps her stance apart and I slide into the thatch of her cunt....