My Best friend’s Widowed Father 4

Kamilla POV

“My dad has been tested for HIV positive,” Katrina announced.

“What?” My mind spun and my legs went cold at that point.

“Yes,” Mr. Alfred said, his voice steady but laced with regret as he sat across from me in the lit living room. The atmosphere felt thick, suffocating, like the weight of our shared secret was finally crushing us all.

“So that meant you have contracted HIV,” Katrina finished, her eyes boring into me with a mix of anger and pity. She crossed her arms, her posture rigid, as if she were holding back a storm.

I couldn't breathe. My hands trembled in my lap, memories of that forbidden night flooding back, Mr. Alfred's strong hands gripping my hips, his thick cock thrusting deep into my wet pussy, our bodies slick with sweat as we fucked wildly on his bed. It had been pure ecstasy, raw and unfiltered, but now it twisted into terror. Had that one reckless moment doomed me?

“I... I need to get tested,” I whispered, my voice breaking. Tears welled up, blurring the faces of the two people who'd become the center of my chaotic world.

Katrina nodded curtly. “You should. But don't think this excuses what you did. Sleeping with my father? In our house?” Her words cut deep, but beneath the fury, I saw a hint of concern.

Mr. Alfred reached out, his hand hovering near mine before pulling back. “Kamilla, I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. The test... it was recent. I got it after you left this afternoon. I went to test myself when I was feeling off, but I swear, I didn't know.” His eyes, those deep brown pools that had drawn me in, now held a vulnerability that made my heart ache.

The next few days blurred into a nightmare. I went to the clinic alone, the sterile walls closing in as the nurse drew my blood. Waiting for results felt like an eternity, each tick of the clock reverberating my pounding heartbeat. I avoided calls from Katrina and Mr. Alfred, drowning in fear and guilt. What if I was positive? My life…my dreams of college, of freedom….shattered by a single day of passion.

But in the quiet moments, I couldn't stop replaying it. The way Mr. Alfred's mouth had claimed my breasts, sucking hard on my nipples until I moaned. How he'd flipped me over, spreading my ass cheeks and sliding his tongue along my slit before plunging his cock inside me again, fucking me until I came hard, my pussy clenching around him. It was wrong, taboo, but god, it had felt so right.

Finally, the call came. I sat in my tiny apartment, phone shaking in my hand. “Ms. Kamilla? Your results are negative. You're clear.”

Relief crashed over me like a wave, but it was short-lived. Negative? How? I rushed to Katrina's house, pounding on the door until Mr. Alfred opened it, his face pale.

“Kamilla,” he breathed, pulling me inside.

“What happened? My test is negative. How is that possible?” I demanded, searching his eyes.

He sighed, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Sit down. There's something I need to tell you.”

Katrina emerged from the kitchen, her expression softer than before. She poured me a glass of water, and we all sat in tense silence.

“My test... it was a false positive,” Mr. Alfred explained. “I went back for retesting yesterday. The initial one was triggered by a medication I was on for a minor infection, it interfered with the results. I'm completely clean. Have been for years.”

I stared, the pieces clicking. “You mean... all this fear, for nothing?”

He nodded, a small smile breaking through. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but Katrina insisted we wait until your results came back. She... she forgave me. Us.”

Katrina shifted uncomfortably. “It wasn't easy. But seeing how much Dad regrets hurting you, and how you two... connect. I was angry, but I get it now. Love doesn't follow rules.”

Love? The word hung in the air, electric. Mr. Alfred's gaze locked on mine, intense and hungry. Before I could process, he stood, pulling me up with him. His lips crashed against mine in a fierce kiss, his tongue invading my mouth as his hands roamed my body, squeezing my ass possessively.

“Kamilla,” he growled against my skin, “I can't lose you. Not like this.”

Katrina cleared her throat awkwardly. “I'll... give you two some space. Just... be careful this time.” She slipped out, leaving us alone.

The door clicked shut, and Mr. Alfred's restraint snapped. He backed me against the wall, yanking my shirt over my head, exposing my lace bra. His mouth latched onto my neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks as his fingers unhooked the clasp, freeing my full breasts. He palmed them roughly, thumbs circling my hardening nipples.

“Fuck, I've missed this,” he murmured, dropping to his knees. He unzipped my jeans, tugging them down along with my panties, revealing my shaved pussy already glistening with arousal.

His tongue flicked out, tracing my folds before diving in, lapping at my clit with expert precision. I gasped, threading my fingers through his hair, grinding against his face. “Oh god, Alfred... yes, eat my pussy.”

He groaned, the vibration sending shocks through me. Two fingers slid inside, curling to hit that spot that made my legs buckle. I came fast, my juices coating his chin as I cried out, waves of pleasure ripping through me.

But he wasn't done. Standing, he shed his clothes, his thick cock springing free, veined and throbbing. He lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he positioned himself at my entrance.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, teasing my slick lips with his tip.

“I want you to fuck me, Alfred. Hard,” I begged, nails digging into his shoulders.

With a primal thrust, he buried himself deep, stretching my pussy around his girth. We moved together, his hips slamming into mine, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room. He fucked me against the wall, then carried me to the couch, bending me over the armrest.

From behind, he pounded relentlessly, one hand fisting my hair, the other spanking my ass until it stung red. “Your tight little cunt feels so good wrapped around my cock,” he grunted, reaching around to rub my clit.

I pushed back, meeting every thrust, my second orgasm building. “Cum inside me, fill my pussy with your hot load.”

He roared, his cock pulsing as he exploded, flooding me with his cum. I shattered around him, milking every drop as ecstasy consumed us.

We collapsed, panting, his arms enveloping me protectively. “I love you, Kamilla. Marry me. Let's make this real.”

Tears of joy pricked my eyes. The plot twist of the false positive had cleared the path, and now, with Katrina's blessing, our future shone bright.

Epilogue

Six months later, under a sunset sky, I walked down the aisle toward Mr. Alfred, now my husband in a private ceremony. Katrina stood as my maid of honor, her smile genuine. The fear was gone, replaced by unbreakable bonds.

That night, in our honeymoon suite, he claimed me again, our bodies entwining in endless passion. No more secrets, just love, lust, and a happily ever after we never saw coming.