I must have been 20 or 21 at the time, even then, I knew people always noticed my curves, especially my ass. It had been my best asset since I was a teenager, and I loved how it turned heads without me trying. The white boys couldn’t take their eyes off me, and the black boys were obsessed; they couldn’t stop talking about my “black girl’s ass.”

Back then, I had a friend called Amy who was the same age. She was short, blonde, curvy, just like me in all the right ways and, yes, she had an impressive ass of her own. We met one night through mutual friends and clicked instantly. It felt like we’d known each other forever. We did everything together, sunbathing in the park, nights out at the club, trips to the cinema, just hanging out laughing for hours. We really got on, and Amy’s house quickly became the meet up spot for everything we did.

Amy’s parents were in their forties. Her mum's name was Jane. I used to call her Mrs. Smith. She was a short, fat lady with a pretty face. You could tell she used to be really attractive when she was younger, but she had just let herself go. She also had some health issues and was always in and out of the hospital. She was a really nice lady with a warm personality, though she didn’t really look after herself much. Her dad, on the other hand… he was something else. His name was James Smith. At first, I used to call him Mr. Smith, but I remember him saying I could just call him James.

Tall, broad, with a strong jawline and a hint of grey in his hair, he just looked so hot. I was only around 21 tops at the time, and I remember thinking, he’s completely out of bounds, but wow…

James was a very active, healthy man. He kept himself in shape and went swimming during the week, hitting the gym, and spending weekends on the golf course. For his age, he was in incredible condition.

At first, it was small things. How he leaned against the counter while we made snacks, the way his sleeves clung to his forearms, the faint scent of his aftershave whenever he walked past. I found myself imagining him noticing me differently, tracing my curves with his eyes. I’d catch myself staring just a second too long, my heart racing, before quickly looking away, pretending to laugh at something Amy said.

Little did I know, this quiet obsession was only just beginning.

I think I fancied him. Whenever I went to Amy’s house, I’d feel a little flutter of excitement if her dad, James, happened to be there. I didn’t know why I had this fascination with him, someone so much older than me, and my best mate’s dad at that, but I couldn’t help it. I’d always wear short mini skirts, just to grab his attention. I knew it was wrong, but my thoughts were mine alone, harmless… at least for now. I never did anything, never crossed a line, and it was just the way my mind kept drifting to him, imagining things I shouldn’t.

Days went by, and Amy and I carried on with all our usual girly routines, shopping, getting our nails done, laughing about everything under the sun. We were so close, practically inseparable.

Every night, I would lose myself completely, my hands roaming over every inch of me as I imagined James whilst fingering myself, my body on fire, trembling and aching with uncontrollable desire.

But as I kept going to their house, I noticed my clothes getting a little sexier, a little more revealing. I couldn’t help it, I wanted James’s attention, even if just a flicker of notice. I kept asking myself the usual questions like, all men are the same, right? Or was he different? Loyal? What was his type? And then my thoughts grew darker, more forbidden. What would he be like in bed? I had so many images running through my head, each one more consuming than the last, and I couldn’t stop imagining him in ways I knew I shouldn’t.

Would he ever look at me like that, with that hungry, burning desire? The thought of it made my pulse race, my skin tingle, and a shiver of anticipation crawl through me, leaving me desperate to find out.

One afternoon, I was chillin' with Amy at her house when I saw James step out into the garden. He looked calm, holding a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other. Sophisticated. Mature. Sexy.

I got up to use the toilet, and as I walked past their bedroom, the door was half open. I couldn’t help but glance inside and there she was. Mrs. Smith. Lying on the bed in the most unflattering outfit I’d ever seen, a long, plain black skirt with a Spiderman jumper stretched across her. She was munching on a bag of crisps, crumbs on her chest, eyes glued to her tablet playing bingo.

She looked messy, completely let go of herself. No effort. No sex appeal. And in that moment, it hit me, James wasn’t getting any. No wonder he was out there smoking cigars like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Stress. Frustration. Neglect.

I stared for a second, if that was my man, I’d never let him feel unwanted, I thought. I’d ride him every single day, keep him satisfied, make him crave only me.

I used go onto Amy’s Facebook just to find her dad’s profile. Somehow, I always ended up there, scrolling through his pictures. The ones from Mexico were the ones that really got me, him in nothing but swim trunks, sun-kissed and confident.

Whenever me and Amy were alone in the house and she jumped in the shower, I couldn’t stop myself. The moment I heard the water running, I’d tiptoe straight into their bedroom like I owned it. The smell of him hit me before I even touched anything, strong, masculine, that expensive aftershave that made my legs weak every time he walked past me.

I’d go straight to his dresser, fingers trembling, picking up the bottle like it was something sacred. I’d close my eyes, press it to my nose, and breathe him in as deep as I could. God, it drove me insane. Sometimes I’d spray a little on my wrist, just to keep his scent on me for the rest of the day, like he was marking me without even knowing it.

There were times I’d see his ties hanging neatly in the wardrobe, and I’d run the silk across my lips, imagining what it would feel like if he tied me up with it. Every little thing in that room screamed his name, and I wanted all of him.

I never told a soul how deep it really went. How could I? Fancying someone old enough to be my father wasn’t something you just admitted. People would’ve judged me, called me crazy.

Amy knew I had a little crush on him, sure, but to her, it was nothing. Just harmless, something to laugh about. She had no idea how far it went, no idea about the way my stomach flipped every time I saw him… or the things I thought about late at night.

To her, it was innocent. To me, it was obsession.

One night, Amy and I went clubbing, and I decided to stay at her place afterward. We’d had such a good time, but with drinks spilled over us, we were both soaking wet when we got in. Inside, we started getting changed. Amy handed me one of her white bras and thongs. “Here, wear these,” she said, smiling as she changed herself too.

We put on some really short shorts that made our bottoms stick out, and I wore a tiny, skimpy top that barely covered me. My bra, my curves, my ass and even the thong were all very visible.

Amy told me to put our wet clothes in the dirty laundry basket while she put Netflix on. As I walked through the hallway, I saw James in the kitchen. “Hello there,” I said softly.

“Oh, hello Amy,” he replied, glancing at us. “How are you girls doing?”

He was wearing just pajama bottoms, his chest bare. Even for his age, he was incredibly toned, and I couldn’t help thinking how hot he looked.

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. “Hope you’re doing good too. I’m just going to put these in the dirty basket.”

“Oh, ok,” he said, nodding, completely unaware of the thoughts running through my head.

As I walked off toward the laundry basket, I tried my best to shake my ass, making it jiggle as much as I could, my little secret trick. I had no idea if James was even looking, but the thought of him noticing made my heart race. When I went over to the laundry basket, I noticed his old boxers tossed in there. They were Ralph Lauren, and I couldn’t resist. I picked them up, brought them close to my face, and inhaled deeply. The scent was raw, masculine, and intoxicating. It drove me crazy with desire. My heart raced as I held them for a few seconds longer before carefully placing them back in the basket, feeling guilty but more turned on than ever.

I left the bathroom and turned to join Amy, pretending everything was casual, while my mind was still spinning with thoughts of him.

I had a type: usually white, dark hair and beard, toned, or sometimes black guys around my age or a little older. James wasn’t my type at all, he could have been my father. And yet… I couldn’t stop thinking about him. There was something about his presence, his aura, that drew me in, made my mind spin with forbidden thoughts. It was always just a fantasy, an obsession I carried quietly. I never imagined anything would actually come of it, and maybe that’s what made it all the more thrilling.

Sometimes, Amy and I would talk about guys, like all girls do. We’d gossip about who was fit and who wasn’t. I’d sometimes joke, “Your dad’s quiet fit, your mum’s pushing it,” and she’d laugh and lightly hit my arm, saying, “Oi, you!” We’d giggle together, but even as we joked, I couldn’t shake the thoughts that lingered in my head about James.

Slowly, I found myself at home, lying in my bed and pressing my thoughts inward, unable to shake him from my mind. I would imagine what it would be like to be with him? Would he be rough or gentle? Did he have a big cock? How was he in bed? My imagination ran wild, and I would close my eyes, picturing us together, letting the fantasies consume me, even though I knew it was all just in my head.

Every time I saw him, I couldn’t help but wonder… if he looks this good now, how irresistible must he have been when he was younger? Did women throw themselves at him? Was he wild back then, or always this calm and collected man.

I was so obsessed with him that I even knew his favourite food, roast dinner, and how Jane always got it wrong. I knew I could make a better one for him.

Every time I went to Amy’s house and saw Jane, her mum, I couldn’t help noticing how she always wore baggy clothes and didn’t really pay attention to herself. It made James stand out even more. He was fit, toned, and effortlessly attractive.

There was this one time I was in the kitchen, rummaging by the drawers because I didn’t know where the cereal was. I was wearing these tight jeans that hugged my curves and really showed off my ass. James came up behind me and said, “It’s here, love.” As he leaned over to show me, his body brushed slowly against my ass.

I’m not going to lie, I was so turned on at that moment, I felt like I was going to melt!!! That touch replayed in my head a million times afterward, each time making my pulse race and my thoughts spiral further into forbidden fantasies.

I went on a few dates in between, even with other fit, young guys, but no matter who I was with, my mind kept drifting back to James. It was so wrong, but I couldn’t help it. What was wrong with me? I tried to push the thoughts away, tried to focus on the people in front of me, but he kept creeping into my fantasies, dominating every corner of my mind.

I wasn’t  into football, but I knew he supported Arsenal. One day, I brought an Arsenal top and paired it with leggings that clung to every curve, showing off my whole figure. Even Amy noticed.

“What’s with the top?” she asked.

“I’m a footy chick,” I said with a laugh, trying to sound casual.

“My dad supports Arsenal,” she said, smiling.

Inside, I was thinking, Yeah, that’s exactly why I wore it. Every line of my body was on display, every curve screaming for him to notice. My obsession was getting bolder, and I couldn’t wait for the moment he might.

When James saw me, he raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh, Kim… didn’t know you supported Arsenal.”

“Yh,” I replied, trying to sound casual, even though my heart was racing. Amy had gone to her bedroom, leaving us alone in the kitchen.

I had a chewing gum wrapper in my hand and walked over to the bin, bending down as low as I could to throw it away, making sure my leggings stretched tight across my curves. I prayed he noticed my ass sticking out, my chest leaning forward slightly. Every second I held that pose, I imagined his eyes lingering just a little longer than they should.

The tension in the kitchen was electric, and I felt my pulse spike at the thought of him watching me, really seeing me.

I didn’t want him to see me as some kid, one of his daughter’s friends. No, I wanted him to look at me like a woman. A woman he couldn’t resist. A woman who made him forget his age, his rules, his marriage. I wanted to be the one that drove him crazy, the one he craved late at night when he was lying next to his wife.

I used to put my phone on silent whenever I was around, sneaking little moments whenever I could, taking pictures of him when nobody was looking. Every glance, every smile… I captured it all. At home, I had a secret folder hidden deep in my phone, just for him. Just his pictures.

Whenever I was alone, I’d open it and stare. Memorize every detail, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the strong line of his jaw, the way his clothes clung to his body. Each photo made my pulse race, my body ache, and my obsession only grew stronger.

He used to go to the gym, and I found out which one. I decided to sign up… all because of him. One day, I walked in and saw him on the cardio machines. I was wearing really tight yellow leggings and a short white T-shirt, and he had a Lacoste tracksuit on. Oh my god, he had such a nice style and taste.

“Oh, hello Kim,” he said, flashing that smile that made my stomach flip.

“Hello, James,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I didn’t know you came here,” I said, knowing full well why I was really there.

“Yeah, you’ve got to try and stay fit at my age,” he said.

“What’s wrong with your age? You still look young,” I teased, my heart racing.

“Oh, thank you, Kim,” he said warmly.

“I better make way,” he said.

“See ya,” I replied, trying to act casual.

There were mirrors in front of me, and when he walked off, I thought I saw him glance back at me before leaving.

Oh my god my body was trembling. Did he really check me out? Or was it just a passing glance, his eyes landing on something else entirely? I was so turned on, my mind spinning, replaying the moment over and over, unable to shake the heat it sparked inside me. No lie, I got chatted up by four different guys at the gym after he left. It was so weird, these young, fit men all wanted me, but I only craved his attention, someone old enough to be my father.

I went home that day, my mind still spinning from seeing him at the gym. I couldn’t stop thinking about James, about the way he looked at me or might have looked should we say. Alone in my room, I gave in to the thoughts, letting my imagination take over, replaying every detail of him, every brush of his presence, every subtle glance. I pleased myself thinking about him, the fantasy consuming me completely, knowing it was all just in my head… but oh, it felt so real.

I knew this feeling wasn’t normal, but I couldn’t help it. I was obsessed with this man, and no matter how much I tried to push the thoughts away, they consumed me completely.

One weekend, my mum and dad had gone to Leicester to check on my uncle, and I had the house to myself for the whole weekend. I went clubbing with some other friends that didn’t know Amy. I was wearing a yellow mini skirt and a black leather sleeveless top. My hair was out in soft waves, with some makeup applied. I was wearing a white bra and a matching white thong. My legs were completely on show, and my black heels added the finishing touch. My top showed off my cleavage as well, drawing attention to my curves.

We were all having fun, drinking, laughing, but I felt myself getting a little drunk. I decided to call Amy to pick me up.

“Hello Amy, it’s me, Kim. I might have overdone it with the drinks… can you please pick me up?” I asked.

“Babe, I’m on the other side of town,” she said. “I’m out with my mate Charlotte,” she added.

I didn’t know what to do. I was about to ask one of my mates to drop me off when Amy said, “I can tell my dad to pick you up if you want?”

I froze, my heart dropping. A tingling ran all over me I didn’t know if it was the drink or hearing James’s name. “Would that be… okay?” I managed to ask.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll call him now and give you the number. He’ll call you.”

“Oh my god,” I whispered to myself. James was going to pick me up. I couldn’t believe it.

I said goodbye to my friends, and soon my phone rang. It was him.

“Hi Kim,” he said warmly. “Amy told me the club you’re at. I just left and I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Ok,” I replied, my stomach flipping.

I went to the toilet to refresh my makeup, making sure my tits were clearly visible. I folded my skirt a little higher, making it shorter, and adjusted my thong so it peeked out. Then I went outside, lit a cigarette, and waited, heart racing. The anticipation of him arriving made my body buzz in a way I couldn’t ignore.

While I waited outside, a few guys tried to chat me up, but I wasn’t interested in them at all. My mind was completely elsewhere, buzzing with anticipation. I was just so excited, so focused on James coming to pick me up that no one else even registered.

I saw his car pull up, a grey Ford Focus. We waved at each other as he parked. After taking two steps, I decided to exaggerate my feelings a little and stood still, holding my head.

“Are you okay, Kim?” James asked as he walked toward me. He was wearing black trousers and a black shirt, sophisticated, yet still looking young for his age.

When he placed his hand on my bare shoulder, a jolt ran through me. It felt electrifying.

“Ermmm yeah, I think I’m okay,” I said, letting him guide me to the car. I was ok, but I was just putting it on to get his attention.

He opened the back door for me, and I stepped in, sitting in the middle. He got in, started driving, and I could feel the tension humming between us.

“Sorry, James… you came all the way here because of me?” I asked.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Amy told me you’d had a bit too much to drink. I remember when I was your age,” he added with a small smile, “we’d always go out and get drunk.”

I noticed him glancing at me a few times in the rearview mirror. My heart raced. I closed my eyes, pretending I was out of it, but I subtly spread my legs a little wider, making sure my white thong peeked out beneath my skirt.

Was he looking? My pulse hammered in my chest, and every nerve in my body felt electric.

So, are you coming to stay at ours?” he asked.

“No, I better go home,” I said.

“Okay, I’ll drop you off,” he replied.

When we got to my house, he asked, “Do you need anything else?”

“My head is spinning… I don’t even know how I can walk inside. Would you give me a hand, please?” I said.

“Of course,” he replied.

He came around, opened my door, and offered his hand. I grabbed it to get up, feeling the strength in his grip. He was so strong, so gentlemanly. One hand on my waist, the other holding mine, we started walking toward my front door.

When we got to the door, he asked, “Will you be alright now?”

“I don’t think so… could you come in for a little bit? Once I’m settled in bed, then you can go,” I said.

“Sure,” he replied.

We went inside. He walked me to my bedroom, helped me onto the bed, then went to the living room. “Call me if you need anything,” he said, he was such a gentlemen.

And there I was, the man I had been obsessed with for months, finally in my house. I never planned any of this, but it just worked in my favour. Amy had done me a favour without even knowing it. I was still feeling the buzz from the club, my mind swimming with desire. I wanted him so badly… but how? He was sensible, mature, responsible, too rational to make the first move. How was it ever going to happen?

Then I had an idea.

I slipped out of my clothes, leaving myself in just my white bra and thong. My heart was racing as I deliberately knocked over a vase, the crash echoing through the house. “Amy?” I called out softly.

I heard footsteps slowly approaching my room. I started crying fake crying, something I’d been perfecting since my teens. Even now, I sometimes used it with my husband to get my way.

When he reached the door, he paused. His eyes lit up when he saw me in my underwear. I had no idea what was running through his mind.

Then, “Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

I buried my face in my hands, continuing to cry.

Through the small gap of my fingers, I could see him standing there. Was that… did he have a boner? Or was it just my imagination? My pulse hammered as I tried to focus, unable to look away.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked softly.

“What’s the point?” I whispered, still pretending to sob.

Slowly, he walked over and sat beside me on the bed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again, his hand just near mine, the warmth radiating from him making it impossible to think straight.

I started blurting out my insecurities. “Why doesn’t it ever work out between me and boys? Am I not good looking? Not attractive enough?”

“Oh, Kim…” he murmured, concern in his voice.

“You’re a beautiful young lady,” he said, putting his arm around me.

I shook my head. “No, I’m not. Why doesn’t it ever work out?” I continued crying, letting the tears flow freely.

I felt his hand grip mine tighter, and then he gently lifted my face with his other hand. “You are a very sexy woman,” he said softly. “Any man would be lucky to have you.”

My legs started shaking uncontrollably. Oh my god… please help me, I thought. I wanted him so badly, my desire practically screaming inside me. I couldn’t stop imagining… having sex with him.

Our faces were inches apart, so close that only a few centimeters separated our lips. Summoning every bit of courage I had, I leaned in and pressed my lips against his. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing it.

He immediately pulled back, looking confused. “Kim… you’re my daughter’s friend. We shouldn’t…” he said.

I started crying again, letting the tears flow. “I’m sorry… look, even you don’t want me, because I’m not attractive,” I sobbed.

“No, no, not that,” he said, then, “I’m married, and… look how many years older I am.”

I shook my head, trying to convince him. “No, no, no… I get your point. You don’t find me attractive.”

My heart sank. I thought I had blown my chance. Regret washed over me as I buried my face in my hands, crying, certain it was all over.

He lifted my face again, and I braced myself, expecting a lecture, a warning… anything but what happened next.

We looked at each other, and then boom!!!!!

The moment I had been waiting for!

He pressed his lips to mine, and we started passionately making out. My body ignited, every nerve on fire. I couldn’t believe it, I was so turned on, wet with desire. One of my hands went to his face, holding him close as I kissed him with everything I’d been holding in. Our tongues massaging each other, the intensity, the forbidden thrill… it was overwhelming.

I started undoing his shirt buttons while still kissing him. He got closer, and feeling his skin pressing against mine… oh my god, it was electrifying. He had a smooth chest, with just a little bit of hair in the middle.

I leaned back on the bed, and he climbed on top, our lips still locked.

Then I felt his hands roaming over my body, my breasts, my hips… my chest. This was really happening, and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of my body.

He loosened his belt and stepped out of his trousers, left only in his Ted Baker boxers.

Not a word was spoken during all of this, and the tension was suffocating. Every nerve in my body was alive, every thought consumed by him, and I couldn’t believe it was finally happening.

I felt his hands tracing my curves, the warmth of his body pressed against mine. Every brush of his imagined skin against mine sent shivers down my spine. I could feel my pulse quicken.

He started sucking on my tits, then slowly slid my thong down. So I held his boxers and took them off. His cock was huge, much bigger than I had fantasised. I grabbed it and started working a little bit then let go, he carried on kissing my neck and I felt him put his cock against my pussy. My heart pounded like a drum!!!!

He started pushing his cock inside me. It was easy as I was so wet. I could barely contain myself. All the waiting, all the months of fantasizing and obsessing, had come to a head.

My heart was pounding, my body trembling at the intensity of my own obsession.

He started fucking me slowly, and he was getting faster and faster. He was so fit for his age.

I placed my hands on his back, digging my nails in, completely given in to him. I put my hands on his ass and pushed him towards me every time he was going in and out.

Then I heard him whisper in my mind, “Kim, do you want me to stop.”

I said no, “Keep going,”

I had never been fucked like this by a man his age before.

He lifted me up a little bit by the hips to get a better angle and started fucking me really hard, hard and rough. Not that I minded, God no, I loved every second of it. But I expected him to be gentle, slow, like most older men.

Did he really want this too? Was he waiting for it all this time, or was it just the heat of the moment?

I was moaning with pleasure, soft, breathy sounds. Each moan seemed to echo the intensity of my feelings , every touch sending shivers down my spine. My legs wrapped around him so tight, like I never wanted to let go. Every thrust sent shockwaves through me. I could feel my pulse racing, he’s hands on my ass fucking me fast and hard whilst I had my hands on his neck. We both had our eyes closed, but sometimes when he leaned in for a kiss, we opened them, and it was electrifying.

Then we both came at the same time; it was my fourth time, I think, lol. Then he was lying there, breathless, against my chest. My heart was pounding, my body trembling, completely consumed.

We fucked for at least 20 minutes, which was impressive for his age. I’d been with younger men before, and none of them had ever lasted that long. He felt so damn good inside me, every thrust sending shockwaves through my body, but deep down I craved more. I wanted to drop to my knees, taste every inch of him, feel his thickness on my tongue until he couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted him dropping to his knees, his head buried between my legs, tasting me while I ran my hands through his hair, pulling him closer.

But we never had the chance for that… all we did was fuck, and honestly, I wasn’t complaining. Every second of it had me addicted.

We lay there for about ten minutes, not a single word between us. Then he got up quietly, put on his boxers, then his trousers and shirt. I finally got what I wanted, but the silence felt so awkward.

Then I heard him say, “This was a mistake.”

My stomach sank. What happened? I asked, almost in a whisper.

“Kim… I’m a married man. I’m your friend’s dad. This is wrong. We shouldn’t have done it.”

As he was putting his keys and phone in his pocket, he said, “Kim, this is so wrong. I’m a married man, I’m your friend’s dad… I love my wife. If anyone finds out, everything will fall apart.”

Then he looked at me one last time and said, “This can’t happen again. And don’t mention it to anyone.”

I felt so bad because he was right, he was right about everything he said. I didn’t say another word.

Then he said, “Look, Jane’s had some health issues, and they haven’t been intimate for a long time… I just got caught up in the moment”

He admitted it was a huge mistake and that he loved his wife. Somehow, his loyalty, the way he put everything else above his own desire, made him look even sexier in my eyes.

He finished dressing and walked out.

The sex was unbelievable. I don’t think I’ve ever come like that before. We finally fucked. But now he regretted it and he made it clear it would never happen again.

Why did he have to go? Why couldn’t he stay? All I wanted was to keep feeling him inside me over and over, to fall asleep wrapped in his arms, his scent all over me. I just wanted to melt into his arms, breathing in his scent, my body still humming from him.

But he was right. He was married, and the age gap, and my best mate’s dad. It was wrong.

But that only made me want him even more. My obsession grew stronger. I knew the golf club he went to every weekend, and as I lay there, a devil whispered in my ear, Maybe I should start playing golf there… just to see him again.

I fell asleep with that thought burning in my mind.