Bred by My Dads Best Friend

Dad's gone for the weekend. Just me rattling around this old house, memories in every corner. And him. My dad's silver-haired best friend, the one who's grilled burgers in our backyard for years, the steadfast shadow who's always had my back. Or so I thought. Until his truck pulls up, and those eyes lock on me like I'm the meal he's starved for.

I try to play it cool. Good girl Sabrina, fresh out of college, wide-eyed and proper. But he sees through it. His gravelly voice drops low, telling me to lock the door. Lips hover, breath hot, as the latch clicks. Then his hands are everywhere, callused palms pinning me to the sun-warmed kitchen counter where I ate cereal as a kid. Rough. Possessive. Stretching me wide with that thick, insistent length I've fantasized about in guilty whispers.

Sweat slicks our skin. My thighs clamp his hips on my childhood bed, posters staring down as he thrusts deep, growling promises of seeding me full. The man who bounced me on his knee now floods my untouched core, betrayal twisting sweet in my gut. Paternal loyalty? Shattered. My reputation? Hanging by whispers. And this swelling secret under his palm? Proof I'm ruined for anyone else.

What Dad never knew could destroy us all. His best friend, breeding his little girl in the house he built. But pulling away feels impossible when he looks at me like that - like I'm his forever harvest. Will this fertile rush bind us eternal, or rot every trust I've known?

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E-bog: 24. april 2026