A Fatherly Affair

Authors Note

This is a stand alone story of a love affair between an instagram model on the cusp of fame and the father of her arrogant, athlete boyfriend. It's a battle of morals, lust, and infatuation as well as self-discovery and having the nerve to follow the heart's desires.

---

Introduction

Emily Terry and Cooper Morales were a match made in, well,

social media.

Originally from Minnesota, Emily has made a name for herself over the past six years as a moderately successful instagram influencer quickly creeping up on a million followers.

Cooper is an infamous professional soccer player that stirred up a journalistic sandstorm when he left his native Real Madrid to go play in the MLS for the LA Galaxy. The son of a British Supermodel and a Spanish real estate mogul with ties to the Spanish Royal Family, he has always lived a life of luxury. He has made a name for himself in Hollywood by dating the likes of Kendall Jenner, Vanessa Hudgens, and OnlyFans star, Corinna Kopf.

Dating Cooper is, for the most part, a career move for Emily. Sure, he's attractive. 6'2," incredible muscle definition with bright blue eyes and an

always tanned

complexion, a full sleeve tattoo down his left arm.

Their relationship is, and always has been, physical. The key to maintaining a strong, long-term relationship with Cooper Morales is to never let the honeymoon phase die. As soon as the intrigue of sex fizzles out, he will move on and Emily hasn't yet squeezed all of the publicity out of him. It's not like the sex is bad. In fact, it's

incredible.

Not only does he have a thick, 7 inch cock, but he knows how to use it. Nearly every night they spend together culminates in long, rough, and sweaty sex. Last night was no different, although this particular bough of intercourse took place in the master bedroom of his father's villa in Ibiza.

Chapter 1

Emily slips out of bed and dons a sheer, lilac colored robe over her tight, toned,

curvy

5'6" frame. She makes her way out to the balcony overlooking the Mediterranean where Cooper sits, fully nude, his long, olive cock standing tall and erect in his lap, his right hand working idly up and down his length to maintain his erect state. He gives her a look, gesturing towards his cock as a warm breeze pushes the robe off her righ shoulder, exposing her plump breast.

"It's an exhibition match," she says in reply, knowing that familiar nodding of the head.

"Friendly, World Cup... it's a ritual."

Yes, his pre-game ritual - blowing a load down the back of her throat. He claims that a good nut clears his head and calms his nerves.

Emily rolls her big brown eyes as her lips curl into a devious grin. Her long, artificially blonde hair billows in the wind and she wraps her left hand in her golden locks and pulls it over her left shoulder, her naturally dark roots showing through at the temples and crown of her head. As she drops to her knees, Cooper reaches out and grabs hold of her exposed breast, her stiff nipple digging into his palm as he squeezes a handful of tit, filling his hand like a ripe grapefruit.

She takes his cock in her hand, giving it one good stroke as precum bubbles up on the tip and runs down his shaft to pool on her purlicue. Sucking his dick is really the least she could as a thank you for bringing her along. A villa in Ibiza is an instagram model's dream. Cooper will be spending a few days playing in exhibition matches with the Spanish National Team in preparation for next year's European Championship. She will spend most of her time snapping photos poolside while he's off kicking a ball around all week.

She leans in and wraps her lips around the head of his thick cock, sucking on the tip as she's done half a hundred times before. Thick lips down his thick shaft, tongue tickling the underside as she pulls her lips back up his length, the way he likes it. She gives two types of blowjobs - good ones, and efficient ones. She intends on making this an efficient one.

Lips running up and down his length, tongue working dutifully around the head of his cock. He groans his approval as he cups her cheek with his left hand, and then both hands - gripping her cheeks and ensuring her speed doesn't falter. Of course, it won't, as she intends on finishing him quickly, but he either hasn't caught on to the tactic or doesn't care. She bobs and slobbers on the upper 3/4 of his shaft for another three or four minutes as the salty, warm Mediterranean breeze tickles her puckered butthole.

Cooper's hands tighten on her cheeks as he peaks, grunting as he spurts three good sized loads into the back of her throat, despite having just finished inside of her last night, just a mere 8 hours ago.

Emily swallows his seed and pulls her mouth off his cock, standing up and wiping the saliva from the corners of her mouth with her fingers and then wipes her chin with the back of her hand. Emily places both hands on his shoulders and kisses him on the forehead. Cooper reaches out and roughly drags two fingers between her pussy lips, causing her to jolt. She playfully slaps him on the cheek and sends him off with, "You're going to be late."

Chapter 2

She watches Cooper's helicopter disappear over the horizon as she pulls up the biker short style bottoms of a vibrant pink Skims set, boobs jiggling as she yanks the tight spandex into place over her plump ass. She picks up the top from the bed and pulls it over her head as she walks out of the room, tucking her boobs away as she makes her way to the patio.

It's a beautiful 75 degrees Farenheit this morning, and the breeze blowing off the ocean provides

just

enough comfort to counteract the heat. Emily has never experienced a more

perfect

pilates session in her life.

I could get used to this,

she thinks as she puts her hands on her hips and heaves in a few lung-fulls of air, breathless from a good workout.

As she's making her way back across the pool deck towards the villa, she spots a stone-walled opening tucked into the corner of the house and she recognizes it almost immediately. Backtracking, she peers over the stone half-wall that stands about nipple-high and sure enough, there's a shower head poking out of the side of the villa. With a wicked grin, she steps into the stone shower and peels her top off of her chest, hanging the top over the side of the wall. Her bottoms are equally as sticky - spandex glued to her sweaty ass cheeks - forcing her to peel them inside out down her hips and thighs until they loosen up around the knees.

She moves under the shower head and cranks the knob, opening the flood gates. The stale water lingering in the pipes comes out hot, warmed from the sun as it showers down on her chest and cascades down her front. However, it quickly turns warm, then cool, then cold - much like you would expect from a hose. The chilled water prickles her skin with gooseflesh and stiffens her nipples, yet it's quite refreshing after a hot, sticky workout in the early Spanish heat.

There's a soap dispenser attached to the wall - the kind you sometimes find in hotel showers - and she uses the scented soap to wash the sweat from her hair and skin. As she turns off the shower and watches the last of the foamy soap suds bubble up on the drain, she realizes that there aren't any towels. That's to be expected though. This is a vacation home, not a luxury resort. What she

does

have is a small towel that she's uses to wipe the sweat from her brow during a workout.

Chilled from the cold water, Emily squeezes her forearms to her chest and steps out of the shaded shower onto the sunny pool deck with a shiver as she picks up the small towel. She uses it to dry her hair as best she can and to wisk away the visible droplets from her skin, that way she atleast won't leave puddles through the house.

With her wet towel hanging around her neck and sweaty clothes clenched in her left fist, Emily makes a nude trek through the villa towards the master suite on the second level. The house smells of coffee, which she finds odd, but shrugs it off with the assumption that Cooper must have made a pot before he left.

Back in her room, she pulls out a tiny little yellow bikini - a sponsored piece that she agreed to advertise. She puts on the bikini and then spends the next hour fixing her hair and makeup for the shoot before returning to the pool. By now, it's much hotter than earlier with temperatures pushing the low 80s and a UV index that renders spray tans obsolete.

Emily sets up her tripod and spends the first twenty minutes snapping

hundreds

of photos to ensure she captured the perfect shot. That's what is great about this industry. There is a

ton

of prep work and many long nights of editing and longer days of marketing and answering emails, but during weeks like this, twenty minutes of snapping photos yields her a full day of sunbathing by the pool. She takes full advantage of that opportunity - lounging poolside and soaking up the sun.

After about an hour, she gets that

baking

feeling that signals that she's due for a re-up on her sunblock. Opening her eyes, she checks the little flower shaped UV sticker on the left side if her abdomen and, sure enough, it's purple, which indicates that the sunblock has faded. She pulls her heels in towards her body, bending her knees. She pulls the left strap of her bikini top aside to check the status of her tan and lets out a soft,

"tssk"

under her breath. There's nothing worse than stark white tan lines. But then, why have tan lines, right? She's alone here after all.

Emily rises to her feet and reaches behind her back, tugging on the cross string so that her top pops loose, the cups slackening and clinging to her nipples. She pulls the top over her head, freeing her breasts to the scorching Mediterranean sun. She picks up her spray bottle of sunblock and tosses her head back, spraying the oil over her face, neck, and chest as well as her arms, belly, and legs. Setting the bottle down, she rubs in the oil - massaging it in to her legs, belly, and bare breasts. She had just wiped her hands on her towel when a voice broke the silence.

"Beautiful morning, isn't it?"

Emily screams and claps her hands over her nipples as she looks up at the balcony, noticing the man looking down at her for the first time.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you," he says, one hand up in a

I-mean-no-harm

gesture, the other hand gripping a coffee mug.

"What are you

doing

here?" She screeches back, distraught and edgy, her hairs standing on end.

"As the owner of the house, I could ask

you

the same question," he replies quite casually as he sips his coffee.

"You're Mr. Morales," she realizes, relaxing a bit despite the fact that she just flashed her boyfriend's father. He's a tall man, taller than Cooper. He has wavy black hair peppered with grey, and that olive complexion that she knows so well. He shares all of the features of Cooper, but just a little bit darker - as if his mother's DNA turned Cooper into a white-washed version of his father. He's dressed in all white, a linen shirt with matching pants, brown boat shoes, and tortoise shell sunglasses; he looks as if he's about to sail away on a Catamaran.

"Please," he says with a wave of the hand, "call me Sterling. No need for formalities. I believe we have already breached that threshhold."

Emily blushes at the implication as Sterling Morales casually addresses her nudity as if it's the most natural site in the world. Then again, this

is

Ibiza and topless may in fact be more norm than outlier. "I'm Emily," she says awkwardly, hands still gripping her breasts.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your sunbathing," Sterling continues. "I just wanted to let you know that I have fresh coffee and plenty of food to share if you're hungry, Miss Emily, but don't feel obligated and don't cover up on account of me. Nobody likes tan lines. I assure you I will keep my distance - I am no Peeping Tom."

Before she can gather her thoughts and put together a response, he gives her a nod and retreats back into the house.

Chapter 3

Ignoring his offer seems prudent, and Emily climbs the balcony steps a few minutes later, with her bikini top fastened back into place on her chest.

"I'm sorry about that," she says, still embarassed, as she pads her way across the kitchen floor on bare feet to stand on the opposite side of the counter from where Sterling stands in front of the stove, carmelizing some onions. On the counter are a few fresh slices of brioche covered in oil, balsamic glaze, freshly sliced tomato, and Prosciutto.

"Ah, don't mention it," he interjects, easing her worries with his smooth words. "Yours aren't the first breasts i've seen out there," he says, nodding towards the pool, "and oddly enough, it's not the first time i've seen one of Bronze's girlfriends topless either."

"Bronze?" Emily asks, confused, as she changes the direction of the conversation away from her chest.

"Ah yes, of course. My son's name is Bronze Cooper Morales," Sterling informs her as he turns to face her with a smile. He's quite an attractive man. His face is weathered with age and Emily would guess he is somewhere in his mid fifties. There is a bit of a gut protruding from his midsection, but he's in overall good health with impressive definition for his age. And his

eyes.

He has smokey grey eyes that you could just get lost in. It's not difficult to deduct how Sterling was able to wed a British Supermodel, although according to Cooper, his father has been divorced three times since. Emily was losing track of her own thoughts, falling into the pits of his beauty when his words shake her back to reality. "He never liked the name Bronze. Always said it signifies losing, and he intends to be a winner. I think he wishes we named him Gold instead."

They both get a good chuckle out of that as Sterling piles steaming onions on top of both sandwiches, sliding one of the plates across the island towards Emily. They chat, they laugh, and they share stories over lunch as they become friendly with one another. Emily learns that Cooper's father is quite charming and, unlike Cooper, he doesn't come from money - he built his fortune on his own. Because of this, he's humble, grounded, and kind-hearted. His son, on the other hand, is arrogant, priviliged, and self-centered. A version of Bronze Cooper Morales that more closely resembled the personality of his father would be of marriage potential, but unfortunately Cooper Morales just isn't that man.

"Coop and I didn't realize you were here," Emily offers as their lunch comes to a close. "Did you just get in this morning?"

Sterling gives a good chuckle and then lets Emily in on the joke. "No, I have actually been here for a few weeks. I was at a business dinner last night that ran late. When I returned to the villa, the chopper was docked on the heli pad and I found my room to be occupied. When I heard the cries of passion echoing down the hallway, I decided it best not to interrupt, so I hunkered down in the pool house for the night."

"Oh god..." Emily replies in horror, her face blushing a deep shade of pink at the thought of her riding Cooper's cock, her unfiltered screams echoing through the villa that they presumed to be empty. "I'm

sooo

sorry. I didn't- we didn't realize-"

"No no," he interjects. "Please. Never apologize for acts of passion, it's good for the body, mind, and soul."

"But your room..." She continues. "Let me wash the sheets and we can swap with you..."

"No," he declares again, quite sternly. "That room is fitting for a couple where as the pool house is a bit of a bachelor pad. I'm fine where I am."

He hesitates for a moment, hovering in the doorway and then adds, "Besides, the views are better out there." He winks at her and disappears, leaving her in shock, jaw on the floor.

Did he just...

Unless she's sorely mistaken, Emily is fairly certain that he was just flirting with her.

Chapter 4

According to ESPN, Spain won 2-Nil and Cooper had a goal and an assist. It seems he was the star of the show in his big homecoming match. They had arranged for dinner plans upon his return, but Emily has yet to hear from him.

She's dressed for dinner and drinks with curled hair and pristine makeup, dressed in a white two piece dress with a long skirt and a deep, wide slit cut to the waist that shows off a healthy amount of thigh as it blows in the wind. She slides her feet into a pair of brown, platform sandals and straightens out her skirt and adjusts her top as she examines herself in the mirror. She looks

sexy.

Stepping away from the mirror, she calls Cooper for the fifth time, once again getting his voicemail.

"Hey Coop, just seeing if we're still on for dinner. Congrats on the big win, you're in for an even bigger reward later."

Hanging up the phone, she rolls her eyes and opens instagram as she descends the marble stairs. It's not abnormal for Cooper to blow her off in favor of an after party, but she's typically not stranded on a foreign island when he does it.

She walks out onto the balcony overlooking the pool as she types in his name and pulls up his profile. She leans against the railing and clicks on his tagged photos. Sure enough, there he is - a video of Cooper pouring champagne over a nightclub balcony to the partygoers below. And there's her answer. Stood up by her own boyfriend.

"Dinner plans?"

Emily looks up to see Sterling climbing the last few steps to the balcony, still dressed in his white linen attire.

"No, I don't think so," Emily replies, trying to mask her frustration. "Cooper appears to be celebrating the big win at a club with the team."

"Ahhh," Sterling replies with earnest. He seems to know his son quite well. "No matter. Why don't I accompany you in his place? What time is the reservation, did we miss it?"

"Our reservation isn't for another thirty minutes, but no, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"Nonsense," he replies, refusing to take no for an answer. "We can either dine alone in our own corners of the Villa, or take advantage of that reservation and share the pleasure of each other's company. Unless, of course, you prefer not to dine with me, then my offer is moot."

"No, no, I would love to!" She blurts out. "I mean, that would be great," she finishes, dialing back the enthusiasm by a few degrees.

They take a blacked out Aston Martin Valhalla, cruising down the secluded cliffside road at a dangerous, envigorating speed. Her seat vibrates and hums beneath her as the car roars to life on the open stretches of road and Emily can feel her dampening thong cling to her lips as Sterling hammers the gas, making the engine purr and the seats buzz. She can only imagine how many times he has used this very car to seduce a woman, and the verdict is still out on whether or not that is his goal tonight. He seems too sweet to try and seduce his son's girlfriend, but then again - he's quite the playboy himself, from what she's gathered.

Dinner is a masterpiece of locally, fresh caught seafood - lobster, oysters, and fresh sushi. They wash it all down with

very expensive

local wine - four bottles of if. By the time they finish, it's pushing 11 PM and they're a drunken, giggling mess. Emily stubles into him as they walk back to the car. She slips her arm into his and lets him guide her to their destination as she rests her head on his shoulder. There may have been a

ton

of wine involved, but Emily had some of the best, deepest conversations of her life over these past few hours. If he wasn't twice her age and the father of her boyfriend, she might just fall for this man.