44. Ruined By My Father's Best Friend I
44. Ruined By My Father's Best Friend I
꧁꧂ Ruined By My Father’s Best Friend ꧁꧂
Cherry Thompson was twenty, fresh out of a tiny nowhere town in eastern Oregon.
At five-foot-four, she had tits that strained every top she owned, a tiny waist, and an ass that jiggled every time she walked.
She’d just gotten accepted to the state university three hours from home, but dorms were full and her dad’s solution made her want to scream.
“You’re staying with Rex,” he’d said, final, like it wasn’t up for debate.
Rex Norman.
Her dad’s best friend since they were eighteen.
He was fifty-four, but looked thirty on a bad day. Six-three, built like he still spent weekends throwing punches in underground rings.
His arms and chest were covered in ink—old-school roses, skulls, and a snarling wolf that disappeared under his collar.
His dark hair was buzzed short, silver at the temples, framing a permanent scowl and eyes the color of gunmetal.
Cherry hated him with the fire of a thousand suns.
The hatred began when she was sixteen and thought she was grown. She’d snuck out to a lake party.
Unfortunately, Rex had come by for a visit, discovered she wasn't home, and without telling her dad, had tracked her down.
He’d shown up at the party like a damn ghost, yanked her out of some guy’s lap, and given the boy the beating of his life.
He’d never raised his voice, never smiled.
He’d just stared at her in the rearview mirror the whole drive home like she was a problem he hadn’t decided how to solve yet.
That stare still made her stomach flip in ways she refused to name.
So when her dad put her on a plane from Medford to Portland, she was already prepared to make Rex’s life a nightmare during her stay.
Rex was already waiting at arrivals, wearing a black T-shirt that stretched tight across his broad chest, black jeans hugging thick thighs, and a leather jacket slung over one shoulder.
Cherry spotted him the second she walked out and swung into attitude.
Rex didn’t even acknowledge her, just took her bags. But the second they stepped outside the terminal, a heavy downpour came.
By the time they reached his matte-black Dodge in short-term parking, she was drenched.
Her white crop top was plastered to her skin, completely see-through.
She had a hatred for bras, and the cold made her nipples poke out hard.
Rex looked once (just once) his eyes dragging over her chest like he couldn’t help it. Then he yanked off his leather jacket and threw it at her.
“Cover the fuck up, Cherry.”
She caught the jacket, smirking, “It’s just water, Uncle Rex. Why so flustered?”
He didn’t answer.
He just yanked the trunk open, dumped her bags, and hopped inside the car.
The drive to his house in the West Hills was silent except for the rain hammering the roof and the low growl of the engine.
Cherry kept stealing glances.
She hated how her thighs pressed together every time his inked forearm flexed on the gearshift.
He still had that dangerous aura she had always felt around him since she was a kid.
The journey continued in absolute silence, and Cherry spent most of it wondering why a man as hot and wealthy as Rex was single—she’d never seen him with a woman before.
Could he be gay? If he’s gay, is my dad also gay?
She shook her head. Come on, girl…
They soon arrived at his house, perched on a hill overlooking the city lights.
He carried her suitcase in without a word.
That night, after a tense dinner where he barely spoke, Cherry escaped to the guest room upstairs. She locked the door and flopped on the bed, still buzzing with adrenaline and something else she didn’t want to name.
Her phone lit up. Her boyfriend, Dylan, had been blowing it up all day.
Dylan: send something sexy baby
Dylan: prove you still want this
Dylan: don’t you trust me anymore?
In love, horny, and reckless, she propped the phone against a stack of books on the dresser, hit record, and stood in front of it wearing nothing but a scrap of red lace thong.
The camera caught everything in merciless detail.
She started slow, her palms sliding up her stomach to cup her heavy tits.
She squeezed them slowly and at the same time her thumbs kept brushing her nipples until they stood hard and aching.
She pinched them, tugged, and rolled them between her fingers.
A soft, breathy moan slipped from her lips, her head falling back as pleasure shot through her spine.
Her pussy was already soaked, the lace dark and clinging.
She hooked her thumbs in the waistband and peeled the thong down just enough to bare her shaved, glistening pussy.
“I miss you, Dylan,” she whispered to the camera, her voice shaking.
She spread her thighs wider, one hand sliding down to part her folds, showing the lens how wet she was. Two fingers circled her clit slowly, then faster, her hips rolling as she chased the heat.
She pushed the thong aside completely, spread herself open with two fingers, letting the camera see every soaked, messy inch. Her middle finger dipped inside, then two, pumping slowly while her thumb rubbed her clit in fast, filthy circles.
Juices dripped down her wrist, the wet sound loud in the quiet room, her tits bouncing with every thrust of her fingers.
“Want your cock so bad,” she moaned, louder now, losing herself.
“Want you to fuck me, fill me up—”
She came hard, her thighs clamping around her hand. A broken cry spilled from her lips as her pussy clenched and gushed over her fingers.
She stopped the recording, her chest heaving.
She’d never done anything that filthy in her life.
Her finger hovered over the send button for three full seconds, her pulse roaring in her ears, and her pussy still fluttering from the orgasm that had left her thighs slick and trembling.
Then she pressed it.
The little whoosh sound felt like a gunshot.
Cherry clutched the phone to her chest like it could hide what she’d just done. She curled onto her side on the bed, knees drawn up, trying to breathe.
She waited, but ten minutes later, there was no response from Dylan.
Just silence.
Her stomach twisted.
What if he screenshots it? What if he shows his friends?
The thought should have horrified her. Instead, her pussy gave another greedy pulse.
She squeezed her eyes shut, whispering, “Please answer, please answer…”
And as if on cue, her phone buzzed against her breast so hard she jumped.
One new message.
From: Uncle Rex
Her face crumpled in disappointment and she hissed angrily.
“The fuck does he want now?!”
She clicked on the message, and her soul nearly left her body.
Holy crap!!!
She had mistakenly sent the video to Rex instead of Dylan.
The video auto-played, and she watched herself in horror. Her hands shook so badly she almost dropped the phone.
Underneath, his reply stared up at her.
Uncle Rex: You just made a very big mistake, little girl.