I Hooked Up with My Best Friend’s Dad in Their Pool House

Okay, I’m freaking out and need to spill this somewhere anonymous because I can’t tell a single soul irl. I’m 19, home from uni for the long weekend, staying at my parents’ but basically living at my best friend Ava’s house two streets over. Ava and I have been ride or die since Year 7. Her dad, Mr. R (45, divorced, runs his own landscaping company), is the ultimate DILF: salt-and-pepper hair, forearms that could crack walnuts, always in fitted tees and cargo shorts. I’ve low-key crushed since I was 15, but it was harmless… until Friday.

Ava’s mum is away on a girls’ trip, so it’s just the three of us. We spend the day by the poolAva in her bikini, me in a red two-piece that ties at the hips. Mr. R is mowing the lawn shirtless, sweat dripping down his abs. I catch him staring every time I reapply sunscreen. My pussy’s tingling by noon.

Evening hits. Ava gets a migraine and crashes early with the lights off. I’m restless, so I sneak back to the pool house to “grab a hoodie.” It’s 11:47 p.m., fairy lights on, music low. Mr. R is in there folding towels, wearing nothing but board shorts. The air smells like chlorine and his cedar cologne.

I pretend to look for the hoodie. He says, “It’s on the top shelf, short stuff,” smirking. I stretch; the bikini top rides up. He steps behind me, reaches over, but doesn’t grab the hoodie his hands land on my hips. “You’ve grown up,” he murmurs, voice rough. I freeze, heart hammering, then push my ass back against him. He’s already hard.

Next thing I know he’s kissing my neck, one hand sliding up to cup my tit, thumb flicking my nipple through the fabric. I moan, spin, and we’re making out like teenagers tongues, teeth, desperate. He unties my bikini top with one tug; it drops. He groans, “Fuck, these are perfect,” and sucks a nipple hard, biting just enough to make me gasp.

I drop to my knees on the tile, yank his shorts down. His cock is thick, veiny, a solid 7 inches, head glistening. I lick the precum, then take him deep, gagging softly. He fists my ponytail, guides me, whispering, “Good girl.” Spit drips down my chin onto my tits. I cup his balls, feel them tighten.

He pulls me up, bends me over the couch, yanks my bikini bottoms off. Spreads my cheeks, groans at how wet I am. One long lick from clit to asshole, then he’s eating me out like a starving man tongue fucking my pussy, nose buried in my ass. I come in under a minute, thighs shaking, juices dripping down his chin.

He stands, rubs his cock along my slit. “Condom?” he asks, responsible even now. I shake my head “on the pill, clean, please just fuck me.” He thrusts in raw, one slow push until he’s balls-deep. I’m stuffed. He grabs my hips, pounds me, couch creaking, my tits bouncing against the cushions. I reach under, rub my clit. The pool lights flicker through the window, painting us blue.

I come again, pussy clenching, squirting around his cock, soaking the cushions. He growls, “That’s it, soak Daddy’s dick,” and loses it pulls out, spins me, pushes me to my knees. I open wide. He jerks twice and explodes: thick ropes painting my tongue, my face, dripping onto my tits. I swallow what lands in my mouth, lick the rest off my fingers while he watches, chest heaving.

12:09 a.m.
We’re panting, sticky, laughing nervously. He wipes me with a pool towel, kisses my forehead. “Ava can never know.” I nod, pull my bikini back on, cum still drying on my skin. I sneak to the guest room; Ava’s still out cold.

Saturday morning he makes pancakes like nothing happened, but slips me his number on a napkin that says “landscape consult ”. I’ve jerked off in the shower twice thinking about his cock. Ava asked why I keep blushing. I blamed the heat.

I’m back at uni now, but he’s already texting for “round two” next break.
Am I a terrible friend? Yes. Do I regret it? Not even a little.
Anyone else cross this line? Help.