I am in love with my daughter's friend

Every time my daughter Lisa brings her group of friends over to the house, it's like a ritual I both dread and crave. They're all in their late teens, fresh-faced college kids buried in nursing textbooks, chattering about clinical rotations and anatomy classes that make my mind wander to places it shouldn't. But there's one who stands out, pulling my gaze like a magnet every single time. Her name's Aisha. She has a pretty oval shape sculptured by voluminous curly hair. She is the only black girl in the group. She's got this rich, dark skin that glows under the afternoon light filtering through our living room windows, smooth and inviting in a way that stirs something primal in me.

What really gets me, though, are her curves. Not the kind that scream excess, but perfectly proportioned, like they were sculpted with deliberate care. Her hips sway just enough when she walks, wide and firm, leading down to an ass that's round and full, straining against the fabric of her tight jeans or yoga pants she favors. And her breasts—oh my, they're generous, sitting high and proud on her chest, the outline visible even under those loose college hoodies she throws on. She's not fat; no, she's thin but with an hourglass figure that is how I can describe her. And I cannot forget to mention her tiny waist that I so long to hold.

I catch myself staring from the kitchen doorway, pretending to wipe down the counter or grab a drink from the fridge. Today was no different. The girls piled in after class, laughing about some professor's bad joke, and there she was, kicking off her sneakers by the door, her bare feet padding across the hardwood. I wanted to say something, anything, to draw her into a conversation.

'Hey, how's nursing treating you?' or 'Need a refill on that soda?' But the words stick in my throat. I'm forty-seven, for pits sake. A dad with gray creeping into my hair, lines etched around my eyes from years of overtime at the office. What would a eighteen year old girl like her see in me? Some old guy leering from the sidelines? Even my daughter is a year older than her.

Worse, from the snippets I overhear when they're sprawled on the couch, it sounds like she's got a boyfriend. Some guy from her program, probably young and fit, the kind who can keep up with her energy.

'He texted me during lecture again,' she said earlier, giggling as she scrolled her phone, her full lips curving into a smile that made my chest tighten. They talk about dates, stolen kisses in the dorms, innocent stuff to them, but it twists in my gut like jealousy mixed with shame. I imagine her with him, those hips grinding against his, her big breasts pressed to his chest, and it sends a hot rush straight to my groin. I shouldn't think like that. She's my daughter's friend, practically off-limits. I should have remarried when my wife died ten years ago.

So instead of confronting my feelings, I mutter an excuse about errands and slip out the back door, my heart pounding as I head to the garage. The engine roars to life, but it does nothing to drown out the image of her burned into my mind. I drive aimlessly, trying to shake it off, but the pull is there, insistent. What if she noticed me watching? What if, deep down, she's curious too? The thought alone makes my cock twitch, hardening against my thigh as I grip the wheel tighter. But reality crashes back, she'd be grossed out, repulsed by the idea of an older man like me even entertaining this. Still, in the quiet of the car, alone with my thoughts, I let myself wonder. Just for a moment.

The phone rang while I was in the kitchen, stirring a pot of pasta sauce for dinner. My daughter’s voice carried through the speaker on the counter, her tone soft and soothing.

'Aisha, oh honey, that asshole doesn’t deserve you. You’re better off without him dragging you down.' I froze, spoon midway to my mouth, eavesdropping without shame. Lisa did not turn the loudspeaker off even when she saw me. Aisha had broken up with her boyfriend. The words hit me like a shot of adrenaline, a rush of illicit joy flooding my veins. No more imagining her wrapped around some young prick from nursing school. She was single. Free. Mine for the taking, if I could just find the nerve.

I cleared my throat, leaning toward the phone after they'd stopped talking Pl. 'Hey, kiddo, why don’t you invite Aisha over for a sleepover? She could use some girl time, and we can get the guest room all set up.' My daughter, Lisa paused. For a moment I was worried she could see my perverted thoughts. She then agreed, her voice brightening. 'That’s a great idea, Dad. I’ll text her now.' My heart was racing, cock already stirring at the thought of her under my roof all night. Elation mixed with guilt. She was my daughter’s friend, eighteen and vulnerable. But fuck, I wanted her. Wanted to pull her close, wipe away her tears, and bury myself deep inside that perfect body until she forgot his name.

An hour later, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Aisha standing there, eyes red-rimmed and puffy, mascara streaked down her dark cheeks like black rivers on smooth ebony. She clutched a overnight bag, her full lips trembling as she mumbled a hello. Oh my, even crying, she was stunning—those wide hips hugged by leggings that clung to every curve, her breasts heaving with each shaky breath under a thin tank top. No bra, I noted, nipples faintly outlined against the fabric. My mouth went dry, a surge of protectiveness warring with raw lust. I wanted to comfort her, wrap my arms around her thin waist and press her against me, feel her ass grind back instinctively. But more than that, I wanted to fuck her senseless, pin her down and thrust into her tight pussy until she screamed my name.

Confusion twisted in my gut as my daughter rushed forward, pulling Aisha into a hug. 'Come on, let’s get you settled.' They disappeared upstairs to the guest bedroom, voices murmuring behind the closed door. I paced the living room, mind a storm of fantasies—sliding my hand up her thigh, tasting her skin, making her cum on my tongue. What the hell was wrong with me? She was more than half my age, heartbroken, and I was the creepy dad lurking in the shadows.

Night fell, the house quiet except for the distant hum of the AC. Lisa had crashed early, exhausted from classes, but sleep evaded me. Around midnight, I crept down the hall, barefoot on the cool floor, drawn to the guest room like a moth to flame. The door was ajar—careless, or fate?—and I slipped inside, heart pounding. Moonlight spilled through the curtains, casting a silver glow over Aisha. She lay on her side, facing away, the sheet tangled around her legs. Her tank top had ridden up, exposing the dip of her waist and the swell of her hip. Those leggings were gone; she wore only panties now, the fabric riding high on her round ass cheeks. Her breasts rose and fell with steady breaths, one arm draped over the pillow.

I stood there, mesmerized, cock hardening painfully in my boxers as I watched her sleep. So peaceful, so vulnerable. I wanted to touch her—run my fingers along her spine, cup that ass, squeeze her tits until she woke gasping. Whisper in her ear, tell her how badly I needed to fuck her, how I’d make her feel things that boy never could. Seduction played out in my head: start slow, offer a shoulder to cry on, let my hand linger on her knee, then higher. Build it until she was begging for my cock, spreading her legs wide.

Lost in the fantasy, I stepped closer, the floorboard creaking under my weight. Her eyes fluttered open, locking onto mine in the dim light. For a split second, time stopped—those deep brown eyes wide with shock, recognition dawning. Then she bolted upright, clutching the sheet to her chest, her voice a sharp whisper.

'Mr. Harrington? What the fuck are you doing in here?'

Panic surged through me as footsteps thundered down the hall. My daughter burst in, flipping on the light, her face a mix of confusion and alarm. 'Dad? What’s going on?'

I stammered, backing toward the door, my erection tenting my pants unmistakably. 'Uh, the—the valve under the sink was leaking again. Thought I heard it dripping in here too. Just checking the pipes.' It was a lame lie, but they bought it—Aisha’s freakout softened to wary suspicion, my daughter rolling her eyes.

'Okay, dad. Go fix it downstairs.'

I left the room. Lisa was explaining to Aisha that I am a perfectionist. Yes I am but not in this situation. Heat flooded my face, cock throbbing insistently as I retreated to the hallway. The door clicked shut behind me, leaving me alone with my raging hard-on and a hunger that only grew sharper.

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting golden stripes across the kitchen floor as I sipped my coffee, pretending to read the paper. My daughter bounded down the stairs, backpack slung over one shoulder, keys jingling in her hand.

'Dad, I'm heading out early—got that group project at the dorm. Aisha's still out cold; be nice to her, okay?' She pecked my cheek, oblivious to the storm raging inside me, and dashed out the door. The engine of her car roared to life, then faded into the distance. Alone. Finally alone with her.

My pulse thrummed in my ears as I set the mug down, glancing at the clock. It was barely eight, and Aisha had crashed hard after last night's drama. This was it—my shot to turn fantasy into reality. No more lurking in shadows or jerking off to stolen glimpses. I wanted her body under mine, her moans filling the house, her pussy clenching around my cock. But seduction first; she was skittish after catching me in her room, and the breakup had her raw.

I crept upstairs, the floorboards groaning softly under my weight. The guest room door stood open now, and there she was, sprawled on her stomach, the sheet kicked off in the night. Her dark skin gleamed in the light, curves on full display—those full breasts pressed into the mattress, ass cheeks peeking from under her panties, legs parted just enough to tease the outline of her slit through the thin fabric. My cock stiffened instantly, straining against my jeans as I stepped inside and eased the door shut.

'Aisha,' I murmured, voice low and steady, sitting on the edge of the bed. She stirred, mumbling something incoherent, her eyes fluttering open. Confusion crossed her face, then wariness as memory hit. 'Mr. Harrington? What—where is Lisa?'

'She's gone for the day. College stuff.' I kept my gaze on hers, not letting it drop to her body, though every fiber screamed to. 'Listen, about last night... I couldn't sleep, thinking about you. That asshole hurting you like that. You deserve better.' I reached out, brushing a stray curl from her forehead, my thumb lingering on her cheek. Her skin was warm, soft as silk. She didn't pull away, but her breath hitched.

'I... I'm okay. Just need to get my stuff and go.' She sat up, clutching the sheet to cover her chest, but it slipped, revealing the swell of one breast, nipple dark and pebbled. Fuck, I nearly groaned.

'No rush. Stay. Let me make you breakfast. Or... talk.' I shifted closer, my hand sliding to her shoulder, squeezing gently. 'You've been coming around here for months, and I've seen how you light up a room. That boy didn't appreciate you. But I do.' The words tumbled out, bold and honest, my other hand resting on her knee under the sheet. She froze, eyes searching mine, a flush creeping up her neck.

'You're... Lisa's dad. This is fucking weird.' But her voice wavered, not a full rejection. I leaned in, breath mingling with hers, and pressed my lips to her forehead, then her temple. 'Weird can be good. Let me show you.' My hand trailed up her thigh, fingers grazing the edge of her panties. She gasped, thighs parting slightly, betraying her.

One kiss led to another—soft at first, testing, then deeper as her lips parted, tongue tentative against mine. I tasted salt from her tears last night, mixed with the sweetness of her mouth. My cock throbbed, begging for release, but I paced it, pulling her into my lap, hands roaming her back, unhooking her tank top with a flick. It fell away, freeing her heavy breasts. I cupped them, thumbs circling her nipples until they hardened, eliciting a soft moan. 'You're beautiful,' I whispered, lowering my head to suck one peak into my mouth, tongue lashing the bud while my fingers pinched the other.

Aisha arched, hands fisting my shirt, her hips grinding instinctively against my erection. 'Mr. Harrington... we shouldn't...' But her protest melted as I nipped her skin, sliding a hand between her legs. Her panties were soaked, the fabric clinging to her folds. I rubbed her clit through it, slow circles, feeling her swell under my touch. 'Call me David,' I growled, slipping the cotton aside to plunge two fingers into her wet heat. She was tight, walls fluttering around me, juices coating my knuckles as I pumped in and out.

'Oh fuck... David...' Her head fell back, exposing her throat, which I kissed and bit, marking her. I finger-fucked her harder, thumb on her clit, until her body tensed, a cry escaping as she came, pussy spasming, drenching my hand. She shuddered in my arms, eyes glazed with lust. No more hesitation.

I stripped her bare, yanking off her panties and tossing them aside, then shed my clothes. My cock sprang free, thick and veined, pre-cum beading at the tip. Her eyes widened, hand reaching out to stroke it, fingers barely wrapping around the girth. 'It's so big,' she breathed, pumping me slowly. I groaned, thrusting into her fist, but I needed more.

I pushed her onto her back, spreading her legs wide, her pussy lips glistening, pink against her dark skin. I dove in, tongue flat against her slit, lapping from her entrance to her clit. She bucked, hands in my hair, as I sucked her folds, spearing my tongue inside her, tasting her tangy essence. 'ooooooh... don't stop.' I didn't, adding fingers to curl against her G-spot while my mouth worked her clit, sucking hard until she shattered again, thighs clamping my head, flooding my face with her cum.

Panting, she pulled me up, kissing me fiercely, tasting herself on my lips. I positioned my cock at her entrance, rubbing the head along her slickness before pushing in. Inch by inch, her pussy stretched around me, hot and velvety. 'So tight... fuck, Aisha.' I bottomed out, balls against her ass, and held still, letting her adjust, her nails digging into my shoulders.

Then I moved, slow thrusts building to a punishing rhythm, cock slamming deep, hitting her cervix with each plunge. Her breasts bounced, and I latched onto one, sucking as I pounded her. The bed creaked, headboard thumping the wall, her moans rising—'oooooh, David, fuck!' I flipped her onto all fours, gripping her hips to ram into her from behind. Her ass jiggled with each slap of skin on skin, my balls smacking her clit. I reached around, rubbing it, feeling her clench.

She came first, screaming, pussy milking me as waves hit her. I pulled out, flipping her again, and drove back in, chasing my release. 'Gonna fill you up,' I grunted, thrusts erratic. Her legs wrapped my waist, urging me deeper. With a roar, I exploded, cock pulsing, hot cum jetting into her depths, overflow spilling out around us.

We collapsed, sweaty and spent, but I wasn't done. After catching our breath, I pulled her into the shower, soaping her body, fingers teasing her holes until she was begging again. Under the spray, I bent her over, fucking her ass this time—slow at first, lubed with soap, her tight ring yielding to my cock. She whimpered, pushing back, and soon we were rutting like animals, water cascading over us as I filled her second hole with another load.

Back in the bedroom, dried and tangled in sheets, I took her missionary, then cowgirl, her riding me with abandon, grinding her clit against my base until we both came, her juices soaking my groin. By noon, we'd fucked four times, bodies marked with bites and scratches, the air thick with sex.

As we lay there, her head on my chest, reality crept in. 'What about Lisa? If she finds out...' Aisha's voice was small, worry etching her brow.

I tilted her chin up, kissing her softly. 'Leave that to me. This doesn't have to end.' I stroked her hip, already hardening again. 'I want more than just today. I want you, Aisha. As my girl.'

She searched my eyes, then smiled, tentative but real. 'Okay. But promise you'll handle it.'

'I promise.' And just like that, we sealed it with another kiss. She was worried about Lisa, my worry was about being seen as a pervert but all these did not matter in this moment. What mattered now was cumming in her again.