My Best friend’s Widowed Father 1

Kamilla's POV

The delicate teacup slipped from my fingers, shattering against the tiled kitchen floor with a sharp crack that echoed through the quiet house. My heart hammered in my chest as I stared at Mr. Alfred standing there, shirtless, his broad shoulders and chiseled chest glistening under the morning light filtering through the window. He wore only a pair of loose shorts that hung low on his hips, revealing the V-shaped trail of dark hair leading downward. Heat flooded my body, not from embarrassment, but from the sudden rush of desire that made my thighs clench involuntarily.

I'd come over to Katrina's place for the holidays, crashing in the guest room like old times. Her dad, widowed for two years now, had always been a distant figure, polite, handsome in that rugged, older-guy way, but off-limits.

Until this moment, catching him fresh from a shower, his skin still damp, muscles flexing as he reached for a towel on the counter. My gaze dropped lower, to the bulge cock straining against the thin fabric of his shorts. God, he was huge.

'Sorry, Kamilla,' he said, his voice rough like gravel, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my pussy tighten. 'Didn't know anyone was up yet.'

I swallowed hard, bending to pick up the shards, but my hands shook. 'It's fine, Mr. Alfred. I... I was just making tea.'

He stepped closer, crouching to help, his arm brushing mine. The scent of his soap, clean, masculine hit me like a wave. Our fingers touched over a piece of porcelain, and electricity shot straight to my pussy, making it throb. I yanked back, but he held on, his grip firm.

'You okay?' he asked, concern mixing with something darker in his tone.

I nodded, but my mind raced. Katrina was still asleep upstairs, the house silent except for our breathing. Why did he have to look like that? Like every forbidden fantasy I'd buried deep.

He stood, phone in hand from the counter, and that's when it happened. As he unlocked it to check the time, the screen lit up, and there it was. His wallpaper. Me. Naked.

My breath caught. There, staring back at me in high definition, was a photo of me, exposed and vulnerable, from that impulsive night last summer when I'd sent those private shots to an ex who'd ghosted me. But how...?

The image showed me sprawled on my bed, legs parted just enough to reveal the slick folds of my pussy, my breasts heaving with nipples hardened in the cool air. My face was flushed, lips parted in a moan I didn’t remember capturing. Rage and shock burned through me, but beneath it, a twisted thrill ignited. He had this? On his phone?

'What the fuck?!' I gasped, my voice a mix of outrage and something dangerously close to arousal. I snatched the phone from his hand, zooming in, heart pounding. 'How did you get this?'

Mr. Alfred's face paled, then flushed. He reached for it, but I held back, my body buzzing. 'Kamilla, it's not…'

'Not what? You've been jerking off to my nudes? My best friend's dad?' The words tumbled out, but instead of pulling away, I stepped closer, the heat between us crackling. His shorts tented obviously now, his cock thickening at my proximity.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, his eyes dropping to my thin tank top, where my nipples poked through the fabric. 'I found them online. After you visited last time, I couldn't stop thinking about you. It was a mistake, but... fuck, you're so beautiful.'

His confession hung in the air, raw and honest. My anger twisted into hunger. I'd fantasized about older men, about crossing lines, but this? This was real. Dangerous. I glanced at the stairs, Katrina could wake any second, but the risk only made my clit pulse harder.

I tossed the phone aside and grabbed his waistband, yanking him toward me. 'Show me how much you've wanted this.'

His eyes widened, but he didn't resist. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me flush against him. I felt his erection press into my stomach, thick and insistent. Our mouths crashed together, tongues tangling in a messy, desperate kiss. He tasted like mint and sin, devouring me as if he'd been starving.

I moaned into his mouth, my fingers digging into his back, my nails scraping down to his ass. He lifted me onto the counter effortlessly, the cool granite shocking against my heated skin. My shorts rode up, and he wedged between my thighs, grinding his cock against my soaked pussy through the fabric.

P'God, Kamilla,' he groaned, breaking the kiss to nip at my neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. 'I've dreamed of fucking you like this.'

His words sent a shiver through me. I arched, shoving my tank top up to expose my breasts. He latched onto one nipple, sucking greedily, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak while his hand kneaded the other. Pleasure shot straight to my core, and I ground against him, chasing friction.

'Yes, just like that,' I panted, reaching down to free his cock. It sprang out, veined and throbbing, pre-cum beading at the tip. I wrapped my hand around it, stroking firmly, feeling it twitch in my grip. He was so much bigger than my ex, filling my palm completely.

He growled, shoving my shorts aside. His fingers found my wetness, sliding through my folds before plunging two inside me. I cried out, clenching around him as he pumped, thumb circling my clit. 'So tight, so wet for me already.'

I couldn't wait. 'Fuck me, Mr. Alfred. Now.'

He didn't hesitate. Positioning his cock at my entrance, he thrust in deep, stretching me wide. The fullness made me gasp, my walls gripping him as he bottomed out. He paused, forehead against mine, both of us breathing raggedly.

Then he started moving, pulling out slow before slamming back in, the counter shaking with each powerful stroke. I wrapped my legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass to urge him deeper. His hands braced on either side of me, muscles bulging as he pounded into my pussy, the wet slap of skin echoing in the kitchen.

'Harder,' I begged, my nails raking his shoulders. He obliged, angling to hit that spot inside me, making stars burst behind my eyelids. Sweat slicked our bodies, his chest rubbing against my breasts with every thrust.

I came first, shattering around his cock, my juices coating him as I bit his shoulder to muffle my scream. He followed seconds later, groaning low as he buried himself deep and flooded me with hot cum, pulse after pulse filling me up.

We clung together, panting, the aftershocks rippling through us. But as he pulled out, a trickle of our mixed release dripping down my thigh, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

Mr. Alfred froze, eyes wide. 'Shit. Who could that be?'

I slid off the counter, legs shaky, heart racing again, this time from fear. Katrina? A neighbor? The delight twisted into panic as we scrambled to compose ourselves, the forbidden heat still simmering between us.