I fucked my dads married best friend while his wife was downstairs.

I can’t stop thinking about what I did a few days ago ⸻ Exactly as the title says, I fucked my Dad’s best friend. I’ve never written a confession before but I definitely do want to begin detailing some of my sexual adventures!

I’m sure you’re curious about all the details - which I promise not to spare you. My Dad has been friends with this guy since they were in high school together. I’ve seen photos of them together at school events, hanging out, even the embarrassing “punk” eras they went through together. To put it simply, this guy has been there for my dad for a very long time and is a trusted friend of the family. He has a wife and, as far as I’m aware, there's never been any kind of indication that they aren’t happy together… Then again, you never know what’s going on behind closed doors.

Of course, all dialogue is verbatim, but I will do my best to recreate the scene as best as possibly for you all…

I’m currently in university, though I went back to my home city to take some time out and spend time with my parents and siblings. Going home may have been the best thing I ever did… After a crowded train journey home, my parents decided that we would be going to pay a visit to our family friend's house for some drinks.

Sure, why not?

I’d been over to their house a million times before, even having done some pet-sitting for them while he and his wife of many, many years went on the occasional weekend break together. Nothing sexual had ever come up, there was no indication beyond the occasional compliment that indicated that he was attracted towards me.

I had thought I’d caught him checking out my backside a few times but I wasn’t sure of it.

Hours into the visit, which was just meant to be a quick stop-by to say hello and catch-up, I found myself feeling a little dizzy. I tried to push through the rest of my drink, a deadly concoction of about 80% vodka and 20% orange juice, though I had to admit defeat. My measuring skills are atrocious and I am terrible for thinking that I can bite off more than I can chew when it comes to alcohol. Clearly more than a little buzzed, my dad’s friend noticed how quiet I had become and asked if I was alright. I told him I was okay, I’d just had a bit too much to drink and that I would probably call a lift home and meet my parents back at the house.

His wife began to feel my forehead, cooing at me and telling me that I could stay the night if I needed rather than going home all alone, that I was more than welcome to even use the spare room I had become familiar with as a second bedroom to lay down and take a nap. I remember how overwhelming she felt in that moment, my body pulling away from hers which was closing in close to mine. Suddenly, it all felt too loud and bright. I accepted the offer of going to lay down. Everyone chalked it up to me being tuckered out from the travel to my home city rather than the drinks I was pouring for myself.

I retired to the guest bedroom, the plushie I had brought over a little girl still sat propped up against the pillows, his brown fur still looking soft and comforting. I stripped down to my bra and panties, leaving the clothes in a pile near the doorway and plopped myself down into the bed, nuzzling my face into the soft fabric of the toy I had forgotten all about.