Dirty Little Secrets: My Best Friend's Dad and shared w***e.

I turned eighteen exactly seven days ago, but the house still smelled like the exact same rules my mother had enforced since I was old enough to understand them. Camilla I don't want to see you with no boys, no late nights and ask me no questions about the father who supposedly “pumped and dumped” her before vanishing. The last time she saw me with a guy, she pulled my ears, "stay away from Daniel" and then she went to warn his family next door. This happened three years ago before his family moved to Bahamas. Catherine’s warnings were clear in our quiet suburban home "Men only want one thing, Camilla. They fck young girls, fill them up, and disappear. Don’t you ever become another example. She said it with the fierce protectiveness of a woman who had learned the hard way. At thirty seven, Catherine was still strikingly beautiful, sharp cheekbones, dark wavy hair and the kind of figure that catches men even when she dressed modestly for her office job. I loved her, so I feared disappointing her and until recently, I had obeyed her completely. Lately, though, I can't seem to understand her anymore. I observe different cars in the driveway some nights, the sound of low laughter behind her closed bedroom door. Then the familiar words of “I have an important meeting, baby. It’s better if you sleep at Sofia’s. I want you safe.” I always went because I was the good obedient daughter, a kind who never asked why her mother’s “meetings” left her walking a little stiff the next morning. Tonight felt different. Sofia’s house had been my second home for years. Her father Antonio, a tall, well built man of forty-two with dark hair and quiet attitude, had always been kind in a distant way. Tonight, though, his eyes had been on me. On my legs when I curled up on couch in my sleep shorts, the way my top clung after I helped clear the dinner table. I told myself I was imagining it. Until he stopped me in the hallway as I headed to the guest room. “Camilla.” His voice was low, and a little rough “You can’t stay tonight.” Sofia, right behind me, frowned. “Dad, what are you talking about? She always stays.” Antonio didn’t look at his daughter. His gaze stayed locked on me, “My wife is out of town. It’s not appropriate. I’ll drive you home.” Sofia argued, but it didn't help. The car ride was tense and silent except for the low sound of the engine. Antonio’s hands on the wheel looked strong, veins revealed. He wore this sweet perfume... I kept my knees pressed together, staring out at the passing streetlights, wondering why my stomach felt tight. When we pulled up to my house, he left the engine running. “Go on in. I’ll wait a minute to make sure everything’s okay.” I nodded and went in quietly. The living room was dark, but a warm strip of light glowed under my mother’s bedroom door. I should have gone straight to my room but curiosity, betrayal, and a strange itch under my skin, took me closer. I pressed my ear to the wood. The wet rhythmic sounds of slapping skin hit me hard like a physical punch. The unmistakable creak of the bedframe and then my mother’s breathy and broken voice that wasn't like the strict woman who raised me. “Fck… yes, right there. Harder, you bastard. Don’t you fcking stop.” My knees buckled. I slapped a hand over my mouth. The man’s growl was deep with satisfaction. “Goddamn, Catherine. This pssy is still so f*****g tight, sooo sixteen. You love getting stretched, don’t you?” “Yes—oh f**k, yes! Deeper. Bang that cnt like it’s yours. I need it so bad…” Mom moaned, high and needy. “Deeper. Keep going right there, bang that fcking cnt like it's all yours. I fcking love your dck oh damn yess!.” Every filthy word and the wet sound of him pounding into her sank into me. Heat flooded my face, my chest felt an aching, then confusing throb between my legs. I hated it, I was ashamed, but I couldn’t pull away. My free hand drifted down before I could stop it, pressing against the front of my shorts. The man laughed darkly. “That’s it. Scream for me. Your daughter is not here tonight, right?” “f**k no. Just f**k me and forget everything else. Slap my ass again. Yesss, harder!” “You filthy hot sexy slut,” he snarled. “Beg for it, tell me how bad you need this cock.” “Please… please, I need it. f**k meee— I’m so close! Oh make me cm..." I listened as he took her harder. As she begged to be filled. As she came crying like a child that made my own body clench. When he finally roared and emptied himself inside her, I stumbled back, tears pooling my eyes. All those years of warnings. All the fear she planted in me. Hypocrite! I fled the house on silent feet, chest filled with betrayal and with an unwanted desire. Antonio’s car was still at the walkway He leaned across the seat and pushed the passenger door open. His expression that of concern the moment he saw my tearing face and trembling hands. “Camilla? What happened? Get in.” I didn’t know where else to turn, I got into the passenger seat, he helped shut the door. Antonio didn’t pull away immediately. He studied me in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, “Talk to me. Did something happen with your mom?” My reply spilled out between sobs. I told him a little but left out the parts where my own hand had slipped between my legs and the filthy words I heard. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel and for a long moment, he said nothing. Then he put the car in drive and pulled away from the house. The silence inside the car felt thick and charged. Streetlights across his face caught the hard lines of his jaw and the way his eyes kept flicking toward me from top down to the way my sleep shorts had moved up my thighs. His scent filled the small space, making my stomach tighten. We drove past familiar streets… then kept going. The road darkened. He wasn’t taking me back toward Sofia’s house. “Where are we going?” I whispered, my voice shaky. “Somewhere you can breathe,” he said quietly. His voice had dropped lower and rougher. “You’re still shaking, princess.” That word princess sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. No one had ever called me that. I should have asked him to turn around and take me home. But the heat from what I’d heard and felt, still pulsed between my legs. And Antonio… he wasn’t looking at me like Sofia’s father anymore. He was looking at me like a man who had been holding something back for a very long time. The car continued into the outskirts that was quiet. Ahead of us was an old isolated bridge. My heart throbbed against my ribs as part of me was terrified, the other was aching with a dangerous kind of curiosity because of what I had heard. Whatever happened next, I knew my life as the obedient good girl was already over.