Bella's heart pounded as she rang the doorbell at her best friend Stacy's house. This was it. It was finally going to happen! She'd expected to be nervous, but more than anything, she felt anticipation. As Stacy's dad approached, she quickly adjusted her skirt.
He answered the door barefoot, wearing jeans and a concert T-shirt from ten years before she was born. As usual, she was struck by his good looks. He had a strong jaw, peppered with stubble. There was more gray than black in his hair, but he still had broad shoulders and a healthy physique.
"Hi, Mr. Johnson!" She smiled brightly, bouncing on her heels when he opened the door. He clearly struggled not to notice the way it made her boobs move under her shirt. She never wore a bra to Stacy's house.
"Bella?" He looked confused. "Stacy's not here. She and Flora are at their mom's this week."
"Oh." She frowned, pretending to be disappointed, despite knowing perfectly well where Stacy was.
"What happened?" He sighed. "Did she get her dates mixed up again?"
"I guess so." It was a lie, but a plausible one. Stacy was notorious for double-booking or forgetting about previous plans.
He looked sympathetic. Before he could say anything, she kept talking.
"I tried texting, but she didn't answer. I figured her phone died again." Another lie, also believable. Stacy lived life in the red zone of her battery.
"Yeah, that tracks." He looked awkward. "Well, I'm sorry you had to come all this way..."
"Can I stay?" She blurted the question too loud and fast, and forced herself to take a breath. "It's just, my mom's new boyfriend is over. They were drinking when I left, and I kinda don't want to be there right now." This was a carefully calculated request. He'd never said anything, but the few times she'd talked about her mom, she'd gotten the distinct impression he didn't think much of the way she behaved.
He hesitated, and she could almost see his thought process. She
did
spend the night here all the time, practically sleeping here more than at home. But this would be the first time Stacy wasn't here, and he looked vaguely uncomfortable. He glanced over his shoulder into the living room, where she could see he'd just been sitting down in front of the TV with his dinner. He grimaced, looked back at her, and ran his hand through his hair.
"Please?" She bounced again, beaming at him. "I promise I won't be any trouble. I'll sleep in Stacy's room, and I'll leave in the morning. You'll barely know I'm here."
"Alright," he sighed, opening the door for her. "Come on in."
"Yay! Thanks, Mr. Johnson!" He stiffened as she threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself against his firm chest, withdrawing before he could react.
"Uh, yeah, don't worry about it." He cleared his throat and closed the door behind her. "And please, I've told you, call me Rich."
"Okay, Rich," she giggled, skipping up the stairs.
"Hey Bella?" He called after her, and she peeked back down the stairwell. "Do you need dinner?"
"No, thanks, I already ate."
"Okay, make yourself at home. I'm starting a movie if you get bored."
He turned away, and she forced herself to walk calmly down the hall, past the doors to Flora's room, the bathroom, and Rich's room. Stacy's was at the end of the hall. She let herself in, shut the door, dropped her bag, and collapsed on the bed.
It worked! She pulled a pillow over her face to muffle a squeal, and laughed giddily. She was finally here alone with her best friend's dad! He had no idea that she'd come here purposely while Stacy was away. Or that she'd been harboring a secret crush on him for years.
She'd always thought he was vaguely handsome, but her awareness of him as a man really blossomed one summer night, two years ago. She'd stayed over, and had trouble sleeping in the heat. After dozing fitfully, tossing and turning the whole time, she'd woken up tangled in the sheets, with a head full of fading and confusingly erotic dreams.
After visiting the bathroom, she'd noticed that his door wasn't closed all the way. A dim light spilled into the hall, and she could barely hear a woman's voice. Curious, she crept closer, and blushed when she realized the woman's voice was crying out in pleasure. Peeking through the gap in the doorway, she saw the light was coming from a laptop on the bed playing pornography. Stacy's dad--Rich, she corrected herself--had kicked all the covers off and was lying on his back, completely nude. He had his hand wrapped around his erect cock, slowly and firmly stroking the full length of it.
Bella's breath had caught in her throat. She'd fooled around with a few guys at school, without much enthusiasm. They had no chill. Inevitably, they would rush to fondle her boobs, then try to push her head down to their twitching erections. If she let them go all the way, after only a few frantic thrusts, they would pull out and splatter sticky cum across her back or chest or face.
By contrast, Rich seemed to be in no hurry. His cock was much thicker than any of the boys from school, glistening slightly in the light from the laptop screen. Every few minutes he would groan, just on the edge of her hearing. His thighs and stomach muscles would tense, and he would lift his hips, as if thrusting into an imaginary woman riding him like a cowgirl.
Bella had watched in awe, and something awakened inside her. Her chest flushed, and a sudden heat bloomed between her legs. She watched his hand work the length of his shaft and imagined following it with her tongue. Every time he lifted his hips, she shivered, wishing she was sitting on top of him. Quietly, she reached into her shirt to pull on her nipples, hardly daring to breathe for fear he would notice her.
After what seemed like a very long time, his cock started pumping thick white spunk. She squeezed her thighs together and stared at it dripping over his fingers. A few minutes later, he closed the laptop and walked into his bathroom to clean up.
Bella returned to Stacy's room and fell asleep with a hand down her shorts.
After that night, she'd studied him like a scientist discovering a new species. What did he like? How did he spend his time? One evening, while he was making dinner, she worked up the nerve to ever-so-casually ask him why he wasn't dating anybody.
"That sounds exhausting!" He laughed. "Dating is a young man's game. I wasn't much good at it back when Jo and I were together, and I damn sure don't have the patience for it now. Plus, I like being able to do my own thing."
Stacy teased him, calling him a curmudgeon. They all laughed, but the thought of him puttering around an empty house when his kids weren't there made her feel sad.
She became mildly obsessed. Whenever she stayed over, she was painfully aware of his presence. If they were in the same room, she was distracted. She never saw his door open again, though she regularly got up in the middle of the night to check.
When she thought about some of the things she'd done, she felt a bit ashamed. If given a chance, she would sneak into his room and go through his laundry basket, inhaling the musky smell of his clothes. She even stole one of his gym shirts. His scent faded, but for a time, it was her most treasured possession.
Once, when he took Stacy and Flora on vacation, they left her the keys and asked her to bring in the mail. She visited every day, and masturbated in his bed. She fantasized about him coming home and smelling her on the sheets, but on the last day she panicked and washed them.
For some time, she'd harbored a fantasy about being alone with him. She'd confess her feelings, and, overcome with desire, he would carry her straight to the bedroom. This daydream constantly filled her idle moments. It was a bad idea for so many reasons. It would never happen.
But what if it did? The more she thought about it, the harder it was to ignore.
She wasn't in love or anything like that. No fantasies of marriage. Only a growing certainty that they should sleep together. That he could teach her things boys her age had no clue about. That she could rekindle something inside him. One magic night to soothe the sadness she was convinced he was hiding.
After her eighteenth birthday, she resolved to
make
it happen. He had grown to epic stature in her mind, the platonic ideal of a man. She yearned for him. Soon, she'd be heading off to college, starting the next chapter of her life. But she couldn't move on without experiencing this. Experiencing him.
Now she was here, lying on Stacy's bed, finally alone in the house with him! She bit her lip with excitement. All she had to do was get him to stop thinking of her as his daughter's friend, and start thinking of her as a woman. Soft, warm, and eager for his touch.
Quickly, she peeled off her clothes and changed into a pair of sleep shorts and a lace-topped cami. Inspecting her reflection in the mirror, she tried to imagine how she would look through his eyes. Still too young. She undid her ponytail. Better. She rubbed her thumbs over her nipples until they stiffened, protruding through the thin fabric. Perfect.
Nearly bursting with excitement, she made herself walk slowly down the stairs. Rich looked up as she wandered into the living room. She kept her attention on her phone, carefully not looking to see if his eyes were on her chest.
"Whatcha watching?" She forced her voice to sound casual, even a bit bored.
"A vampire movie from the 90s. It's just getting started if you want to watch."
