85 Virgin Sins; Taboo Runs Wild

~~Joan~~

Chapter One — My Best Friend’s Dad

It was a mistake to even dream about my best friend’s father.

More like a mistake to even think of having my mouth wrapped around his huge cock.

It was monstrous.

But the audacity—the nerve—of me to even imagine my hands wrapped around it, feeling every inch of that hardness, that thickness, swallowing it whole…

I should’ve stopped right there.

But I didn’t.

I know I shouldn’t have followed Julia home.

When she said her father was back from his trip and wanted her to spend the weekend at home before school started on Monday, I should have walked away.

That—that was my first mistake.

Because once I stepped inside that house, every rule I had about what was right and wrong started to crumble beneath my feet.

Every look he gave me, every accidental brush of his hand, pulled me deeper into a dangerous game I wasn’t sure I wanted to win—but couldn’t stop playing anyway.

I swear…

I never imagined I’d start thinking about my best friend’s dad in this way.

I never wanted to. And i wasn't hating it.

But once I did, it was like a switch flipped in my head—and between my legs.

It started innocent. Just him walking around the kitchen shirtless after his morning run, sweat dripping down his chest, his gray sweatpants hanging just low enough for my eyes to wander. His voice—deep, warm, and rough—always made my stomach twist in this weird, guilty way.

I used to tell myself it was just a crush.

But crushes don’t make you stare at a man’s hands and imagine them wrapping around your throat. Crushes don’t make you wake up at night with your panties wet, moaning into your pillow because you dreamed of him fucking you on the dining table.

And crushes sure as hell don’t make you stand in his doorway one afternoon, watching him fix the air conditioner with his broad back flexing, wondering what it would be like to be bent over that same tool bench.

The worst part?

He noticed.

The way his eyes slid over my body when he thought I wasn’t looking.

The way his smirk deepened when I blushed.

The way he said my name—low, slow, like he was testing how it felt on his tongue.

So when my best friend left me alone in the house with him the following night… I didn’t just stay in my room like a good girl.

I went looking for him.

And when I found him… I made sure he knew exactly what I wanted.

I don’t even know what made me do it.

I should have gone back to my room… but when I heard the shower running, my feet just carried me there.

He was bathing.

The sound of water hitting tile made my thighs clench, my breath hitch. I pressed my back to the wall beside the bathroom door, close enough to hear the water sliding down his skin.

My hand slipped under my shorts before I even thought about it. Two fingers found my clit, circling, teasing, while my mind filled with him. I pictured his big, thick cock—God, I’d seen it last night when he came out of the pool, wet swim shorts clinging to him like a second skin. It was heavy, long… the kind that could ruin me in a single thrust.

He was probably in there clearing his head from the day’s work.

I was out here clearing mine… by filling it with the image of his manhood inside me. His fingers stretching me open, every hole, until I couldn’t take anymore.

I bit my lip, sliding my fingers deeper, pumping them faster, imagining his cock in my throat—so deep I’d gag around it, tears streaming down my face while he held me there. My hips rocked against my hand, the heat between my legs building until I couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

A soft moan escaped.

And then… the water shut off.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, my body jerked upright like I’d been caught in the act of a sin so filthy I wanted to sin over and over again—until I made damn sure his cock would one day slip inside me, thick and relentless.

His hair was damp, heavy with the scent of that shampoo—fresh, clean, and intoxicating. Drops trickled down the sides of his face, catching the light.

A towel hung loosely around his sharply curved waist, the kind of curve that made it impossible not to imagine what was hidden beneath. Like he’d been sculpted for a reason—to be worshipped, owned, fucked.

His chest… God, his chest.

Wide, strong, with muscles flexing and relaxing under smooth skin, a trail of dark hair running from the sharp line of his collarbones down to where I knew his cock was—hard, thick, waiting.

If I lived here—more like if he adopted me—I'd be fucked like it was my daily meal, a drug for a starving addict, three doses every four hours.

I wouldn’t mind fucking my stepfather then…

But he wasn’t my stepfather.

He was my best friend’s father.

There were rules. Limits. Boundaries I wasn’t supposed to cross.

But I’d break them all.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was low, calm, but something dangerous glinted in his brown eyes as they locked onto mine.

I wasn’t sure if he was surprised… or if he’d been waiting for me.

I thought he was going to make a move—just a little inch closer, maybe reach out and touch me.

But I didn’t know what to say.

His close presence glued my legs together and made my mouth go numb.

I was frozen, caught somewhere between wanting to scream and begging him to fuck me right there.

“Jo… Joan?” He called again, raising a brow.

That was my name.

For a few seconds, I forgot it—forgot who I was—until that voice, that mouth, brought me crashing back from whatever wild, wet fantasy I’d been spinning about us.

“Y-yes… yes,” I stuttered.

He frowned slightly. “I just asked what you’re doing here.”

“I thought I could use this bathroom,” I answered quickly.

“The shower tap broke in mine and Julie’s room.”

He nodded, brushing past me. “Julie should’ve told me. Where is she? Haven’t seen her around…”

He trailed off, and I watched his hand reach for the door handle.

There was one thing Julia told me about her dad…

Her dad did everything.

Not just company trips or office work…

He fixed things.

A whole lot of things around the house.

They didn’t spend a dime on repairs—he was the handyman, the fixer.

And suddenly I found myself imagining…

If he were to fix my throbbing pussy the way he fixed the tap…

Maybe the two would rush together—

Water spraying everywhere… and me screaming his name.