Friday with My Father’s Friend

On Fridays, my dad always hosted a get-together with his buddies. They’d lock themselves in the basement den, cracking open beers and laughing over card games, while my stepmom headed out with her girlfriends for cocktails. My stepsister and I usually ended up at college parties or grabbing late-night burgers with friends.

I’d met both my parents’ crews plenty of times, and I couldn’t deny the heat that flared up whenever I saw Mark, my dad’s closest friend. He was older, ruggedly handsome, with broad shoulders that screamed gym hours and a trimmed beard that framed his jaw just right. I’d fantasize about him scooping me up in those strong arms. He always smelled like cedar and spice, and I didn’t care if he caught me staring. Whenever I greeted him, I’d tilt my head just enough to brush the corner of his lips with mine, and he’d play along, pulling me in by the waist until I was pressed against him. It happened every time, like our little unspoken game.

That Friday, I decided to skip the usual plans. I was restless, buzzing with energy I couldn’t shake, so I took a steamy shower and slipped into a lacy red bra and panties set. I snapped a few mirror pics – damn, I looked good – and didn’t want it to go to waste.

Voices drifted up from downstairs; Dad’s friends had arrived. I threw on some tight leggings and a cropped tank top, then sauntered down to say hi.

I worked the room, flashing smiles at everyone, until I spotted Mark off to the side. He was in dark jeans and a gray Henley, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, top button undone. My pulse kicked up a notch as I made a beeline for him.

“Hey, Mark,” I said, leaning in. His eyes raked over me, and I went for it – a quick, bold peck right on his lips. It was so fast no one noticed, but it threw him off for a split second. Then he recovered, gripping my hips and pulling me into a “hug.” His breath was hot against my ear as he murmured, “You’re looking way too good tonight.” I was already soaked, but before I could respond, Dad called out, herding the guys toward the den.

I couldn’t let it end there. I bolted upstairs, peeling off my clothes until I was down to the lace. I teased myself through the fabric, but it wasn’t enough – I wanted him. He’d given me a sign, right? So I propped myself on the bed, legs spread in front of my full-length mirror, slid the panties aside, and snapped a photo. No hesitation – I sent it to Mark with a caption: “Waiting for you up here.”

Less than five minutes later, my door creaked open. Mark slipped inside, leaning back against it, just staring. I’d ditched the bra by then, lounging in nothing but a sheer robe, legs parted, fingers circling my chest. He tipped his head back, eyes shut, like he was fighting himself. Pointless. I stood and closed the distance. He didn’t move as I pressed my lips to his neck, trailing kisses along his collarbone while I popped the buttons on his shirt. His breathing hitched, but he stayed still. I worked lower, tasting the hard planes of his stomach, then dropped to my knees and tugged at his jeans. His boxers strained against him – thick, tempting.

I freed him, licking my lips. He was big, pulsing, already slick at the tip. I took him in my mouth, and his hand tangled in my hair, guiding me. He tasted salty and perfect, and I went all in, tears stinging my eyes as I took him deeper, spit dripping down my chin. He gripped my head with both hands now, thrusting hard but keeping his groans low. I slid a hand between my thighs, rubbing myself, but before I could get far, he yanked me up, spun me around, and pinned my face and chest to the door. One hand locked my wrists behind my back.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you like this, you little tease,” he growled, landing a sharp smack on my ass. I gasped, heat flooding me. He kissed my ear, my neck, working his way down until he was nipping at my cheeks, spreading kisses and bites across my skin.

“Goddamn, this ass,” he muttered, delivering another smack before letting my hands go. I braced them on the door, arching back as he parted me and dove in. His tongue was wet and relentless, flicking over me like he’d done this a thousand times. Between licks and slaps, I was unraveling, and then I turned around, shoving his face where I needed it most. He didn’t hesitate, devouring me as I gripped his hair.

“Faster, please, faster,” I panted, rocking against his mouth. A second later, I shattered, trembling as he licked me clean. Then he scooped me up and carried me to the bed.

He hovered over me, attacking my chest – sucking hard, biting my nipples until I was squirming. “I’ve gotten off thinking about these so many times,” he said, slapping one while he latched onto the other.

“They’re all yours,” I moaned.

“Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl,” he teased. I proved it, climbing on top of him, lining him up, and sinking down slow. I threw my head back at the stretch – so thick, so good. Once he was in, I rode him fast, and he grabbed my hips, slamming me down harder. Smacks and thrusts blurred together, pushing me to the edge, when his phone buzzed.