Fucked By My Dad’s Bestfriend

BEN

Something skittered through me and I froze. Suddenly, I started feeling hot all over. He looked even more handsome with some buttons of his shirt left undone, revealing his thick chest that was impossible to miss.

I imagined myself sucking on his nipples. Imagining the taste of it in my kitchen. But erased it the moment he approached.

He wrapped his hands around me, hugged me a little too tightly, and kissed me on the cheek, which I dismissed as a form of friendly, or rather fatherly affection. Not to mention he smelled so good. Like citrus and clean soap.

“What are you doing sitting here all by yourself?…”

I scratched the back of my neck and looked away, searching for an answer.

“What about your dad?…” He asked, sounding very concerned.

“Over there,” I pointed to the mini bar at the far end of the room where my dad was still with that woman, drinking, gisting, and laughing.

“This man,” he facepalmed, letting out a disappointed sigh. “He never takes anything seriously, does he?”

It was satisfying to know that at least one of his friends wasn't in support of this side of his behaviour.

“You know what, forget about him,” he said like it didn’t matter, returning his gaze to me. “Have you had anything to eat or drink?”

I shook my head lightly. “No…”

“Alright, come with me,” he took my wrist before I could react, and led me out of the room to the lounge. “I’ll get you something.”

He got me some food and a drink. We talked for a little while, and I secretly wished it could have lasted longer because he was the only one keeping me company, and I was actually enjoying it. But he had to leave. It was his house party, he couldn’t stay at a place. People were calling him here and there.

After some time, it was getting late and I was feeling very tired and sleepy. Looking around, I searched for my dad but couldn’t find him anywhere, so I took my phone and texted him.

“Dad, where are you? I think we should start leaving. It’s getting late and I’m already tired.”

He replied, saying; “So sorry Ben, I had to leave for something but Uncle Tony will drive you home.”

I rolled my eyes and switched off my phone. I wasn’t angry because he left, I was angry because I knew he had probably driven off to some nightclub or hotel to spend the night with the woman he was with.

I don’t understand why he couldn’t just settle down with a woman, or better get back with my mum.

Soon, the party ended and Uncle Tony drove me home. In the car, he kept asking about school—which university I was planning to attend, which course I wanted to major in, and how I should study hard to make my daddy proud… and on and on, the usual pep talk.

To be honest, the whole pep talk was beginning to bore me, and I was already feeling sleepy. I didn’t quite expect he’d talk at such length about that.

When he pulled over in front of our house, I breathed out a sigh of relief.

Just as I opened the door and was about to get off, he spoke.

“Can I get your W******p number? I'd like to talk to you about something?”

I blinked, caught off guard.

After a brief pause, I shrugged. “Sure.”

I didn’t see anything wrong with it. As a matter of fact, a little thrill ran through me at the thought that he wanted to take my number and talk to me about something.

I took his phone, punched in my digits, and handed it back to him to save. Then, I stepped out of the car and waved goodbye.

Later that night before I fell asleep, I must say I was anxious, waiting for his call, waiting to hear what he had to say. And I wanted to save his number too. Though I could easily do that from my dad’s phone.

But he didn’t call.

Didn’t text.

The suspense ate deep into me and I ended up not sleeping soundly that night.

Days passed, yet, there was no sign of him. And in all that time, he didn’t come to our house. I was worried something might have happened or maybe he lost interest in me.

I wanted to ask my dad about him but didn’t, afraid he’d suspect something.

Maybe, just maybe Uncle Tony had lost interest in me. Just because he came to me a little too closely, hugged me a little too tightly, spoke to me a little too friendly, and looked at me a little too…. intensely doesn’t mean he felt anything for me.

I was a fool for even thinking that way. I was his best friend’s son. To him, I was nothing more than…well, nothing at all. There was no reason for him to feel anything at all.

What was I thinking, having my hopes up for someone like him? He was handsome, rich and even though he had a girlfriend and a child, I was sure people were lining up in his DMs like ants, begging for a chance to be noticed.

I should probably let him go. I should let this feeling go.

But I just couldn’t no matter how hard I tried.

There was this strange feeling I’d never felt before. Mood swings. Heart racing. Flutters in my stomach.

I was afraid I might have fallen for my dad’s best friend.

It wasn’t until one night that I was alone at home, watching p**n and jerking off at the thought of him that my phone binged with a W******p message.

“Hey! How are you doing pal?”

I stopped what I was doing, my brows furrowing.

It was from an unknown number.

Eager to know who it was, I typed.

“I’m good. Please who am I speaking with?”

The sender replied with a laughing emoji.

“Guess.”

Slashing out an exasperated breath, I tried not to lose my patience. I was in the middle of something when whoever this person was interrupted. And now, the person wants me to play some guessing game.

I knew better than to chat with strangers online because most times, their intentions weren’t good. I have been scammed once by someone like this. There was no way I was letting that happen again.

“I’m not good at guessing.” I sent a reply.

He saw it immediately. Three dots floated on the screen, showing he was typing.

If the stranger didn’t leave a reasonable reply, I swear I’ll block it.

“It’s Uncle Tony.”

My heart stopped.

My eyes grew wide as I stared at the screen, unable to look away.

Snapping out of the shock, I typed a reply that made it seem like I was surprised and not desperate. But deep down, I was dying to know why it took him so long to hit me up.

“I’m outside your house. I want to see you. Can you come out?”

I glanced at the clock: 12:43 a.m.