The following weekend, I knew my friend wouldn’t be home when I arrived. I chose my outfit carefully — a pleated short skirt and a button-up top that hinted at my small, perky breasts. As I stepped inside, her dad’s eyes lit up with that same mischievous glint.
The house was quiet, and I suggested we play a game of pool in the basement. As we descended the stairs, the atmosphere grew charged with anticipation. I bent over the table, lining up a shot, and felt his eyes on me. The short skirt did little to hide my panties, and I knew he was getting a perfect view.
His hands found my hips, and he pressed himself against me, grinding his cock against my butt. His touch was firm, possessive, and it sent shivers through my body. I could feel his arousal growing harder against me.
“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he murmured into my ear.
I straightened up, turning to face him, my breath quickening. His hands moved to my waist, sliding up under my top to cup my breasts. He squeezed them gently, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, sending waves of pleasure through me.
He leaned in, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. His tongue probed my mouth, exploring, tasting. I moaned softly, arching into his touch as his hands continued their exploration.
