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.
