Always and Forever Tributes American Diabetes Association

Sybil Heinicke

My phone rang just as I was stepping out of the shower. "Hi Jack, Emily here, I'm in town visiting my parents. I'd love to drop by and say hello this afternoon if that works for you ." Emily was a friend of my daughter and had been a regular at our house growing up. "Sure, I'd love to see you, any time is fine, I'll be here in my office, working." "Oh, I hope you are not becoming a dull boy, Jack." "Nope, I'll be ready to play when you arrive." That was Emily, smart and a little saucy, never afraid to crack wise. She and I had that sort of slightly flirtatious relationship which didn't mean anything, never got too close to the line, just gave a warm slightly sexy glow to our interactions. "Great, I'm playing tennis at 3:00, how about I drop by after that?" "Perfect, I'll put a bottle of Puligny Montrachet in the fridge." Putting down the phone I idly stroked my cock. Ever since she had become a curvy young woman Emily had been the inspiration for many of my masturbatory fantasies. But it didn't feel right to take care of things when she was about to show up in the flesh; it blurred the line between fantasy and reality. My fantasy world was strictly separate, that's what allowed me to enjoy it so much. So I got dressed and went on with the rest of my day. That might have been a mistake. I was thinking of Emily in a tennis outfit when the doorbell rang. My thoughts hadn't done anything to calm the bulge in my crotch and Emily in her actual tennis outfit didn't help either. The rose colored skirt barely covered her sweet curvy bum and I had to keep my eyes lifted from her tits, more generous than I remembered, either an effect of the outfit or perhaps of her pregancy a year ago. When we hugged I aimed for one of those demure awkward side hugs when you are trying to avoid being a dirty old man, or avoid being groped by one, but somehow we turned and ended up hugging full on, my bulge pressing into her mound a little more than was appropriate. Did I feel a responding pressure? Was it me or her pressing forward, or had we both done it at the same time, magnifying the effect? We parted, flushed, awkward. I poured some wine and she started talking at 1.5x speed . She described the social scene with many old friends from the high school cohort that used to hang out at our house, what had happened to them, which ones had become regulars at the tennis club. "Stephanie was there, remember her? She has turned into a total suburban housewife. But I swear she is balling the coach." "Really, how do you know?" "Oh, I don't know, she just has this sexy thing going on with him, her voice changes and he goes all standing on edge at attention. He was helping her with her backhand, standing behind her, and I'm like, is that her backhand or her back end you are helping with?" She imitated Stephanie in a high pitched croon. " 'Oh Dustin, that is so kind of you, you are so good to me. I am so immensely grateful for your firm guidance.' There is some strange combination of correctness and flirting that doesn't ring true." "Sort of like you and me." She laughed. "Not at all the same, we've never been correct." Time to change the subject. "How is your work in the lab going?" Emily launched into a description of her work on aging and rats, her eyes shining with passion about the science, the potential for an Alzheimer's breakthrough, the winding details of hypothesis and experiment in the pursuit of elusive truth. Her face was full of the light of discovery as we moved on to the second glass of wine. We

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