Mia's Dad Breaks!

It was supposed to be a chill weekend at my best friend Mia's house—her parents' sprawling lakeside cabin, just us girls unwinding after finals. I was 22, Mia the same, both of us home from college for the summer.

Her dad, Mark, was this quiet, brooding type in his late 40s, always polite but with eyes that lingered a little too long on me during visits. Built like a retired athlete, salt-and-pepper hair, and a jawline that could cut glass.

Mia joked he had a crush, but I brushed it off. What she didn't know was how those stares made my stomach twist in ways I couldn't explain—especially since I'd been questioning my sexuality lately, stolen glances at Mia turning into full-on fantasies.

Friday night, we arrived late, the cabin lit by fireflies and the glow from the windows. Mark greeted us at the door, his smile warm but his hug for me tighter than usual, his hand pressing into the small of my back.

'Good to see you, Alex,' he murmured, voice low. Mia rolled her eyes and dragged me inside for drinks. We laughed over wine, reminiscing about high school pranks, but as the night wore on, Mark joined us by the fire pit outside.

The **** flowed, stories got bolder, and I caught him watching me stretch in my tank top, my C-cup breasts straining the fabric, nipples visible in the cool air.

Saturday morning, Mia had an errand—picking up supplies for a hike we planned. She left me lounging by the lake in my bikini, sunning my toned legs and flat stomach. Mark appeared with coffee, sitting too close on the dock.

'You girls have grown up,' he said, eyes on my cleavage. The tension crackled; I shifted, thighs rubbing together as heat built.

He finally snapped the silence: 'Mia doesn't know, does she? How you look at her.' My heart stopped. He'd seen it—the way I stared at her ass when she bent over, the flush when our hands brushed.

Before I could deny it, he leaned in, breath hot on my neck.

'I've watched you both. It's driving me crazy.' His hand gripped my thigh, sliding up under the bikini bottom, fingers brushing my bare pussy lips. I gasped, wet already, but this was wrong—hot, forbidden, but wrong.

'Mark, stop—Mia's your daughter.' He growled, pinning me down on the wooden planks, his mouth crashing onto mine, tongue forcing entry as his fingers plunged into my slick folds. I moaned despite myself, hips bucking as he pumped two digits deep, thumb circling my clit.

'You want her, but you'll take me first,' he rasped, freeing his thick cock from his shorts—veiny, hard, at least 8 inches.