Mark (not his real name) is 53, my dad's best friend since forever. His divorce has been ugly, court dates and fights over who gets to keep the house. Just to name a couple things. Dad felt bad and told him to stay with us for a bit so he wasn't rattling around alone. I've know him literally my whole life. He's the guy who used to sneak me extra marshmallows at camp fires, help dad fix the car, and showed up for every bday with the worst dad jokes. Gave "uncle Mark" energy even though we aren't related.

This morning the house was empty by 7. Dad had an early shift, mom was going to be out all day running errands, and my brother had left before I woke up. I had a doctor's appointment at 11. So I was just chilling in my normal sleep clothes. A faded old pop star tee and these ancient, loose cotton sleep shorts that are so stretched out they fall down if I walk to fast. Mark had the day off, he was in the kitchen when I came down. Pouring coffee like any other morning.

We talked for a minute, normal stuff. "You sleep ok?" "Nervous about the doctor?" I laughed and said no, it was just a routine check up. I leaned on the counter sipping my coffee. Then he got really quiet, just looked at me. Not in a creepy way, but like he was actually seeing me for the first time in years. "You've really grown up" he said kinda low. "I don't think I ever let myself notice much." My heart did this stupid flip. I tried to laugh it off, but it came out shaky.

He didn't laugh. He put his mug down, stepped closer, and very slowly brushed his thumb along my hip. Right where my shorts were already slipping low. I didn't say stop or try to back up. I just stood there. His fingers caught the waistband. One gentle tug and those stupid shorts slid down my legs, puddled on the floor around my ankles. So there I was in nothing but my blue plain cotton panties. Light blue with a little white bow at the front. The comfy unsexy kind one wears when you're home alone and not planning on anyone seeing you like that.

He let out this long sigh, like something inside him finally unclenched. Then his hand were on my hips again. Warm careful thumbs sliding just under the elastic but not pulling. He stepped in closer until I could feel him through his sweatpants. Hard and warm, pressing right against my lower stomach. I could feel the shape of him, how much he wanted this. He started moving, slow rolls of his hips that dragged him along the front of my panties. I was already getting wet, embarrassingly fast. The cotton was clinging more with every pass. Every time he slid over that sensitive spot at the top it sent this warm rush through my whole body.

I had to bite my lip hard, his breathing got heavier against my neck. I could smell his aftershave, the coffee in his breath, and that clean laundry smell he always has. I couldn't stay completely quiet. Tiny gasps kept slipping out every time he rubbed just right. My legs felt wobbly. His hand slid around to my backside, fingers spreading me a little so he could press even closer. The tip of him nudging right where the fabric was sticking to me now. I knew he could feel how damp I was getting. I think I wanted him to feel it. We didn't go any further, no hands going under any fabric. No pushing anything aside, no actual entry. But I was shaking, so close to losing it from just the friction, and the way he was holding me.

Like he'd been carrying this around for a while and finally let it out. When he finally stepped back his eyes where really dark. His breathing all messed up, he looked at me like he thought I might slap him or cry and run. I didn't do any of those things. I just stood there in my wet panties and my too big tshirt. My heart slamming and legs that felt like jelly. "I'm sorry" he whispered. Like he meant it. I went to my appointment later that morning. Came back home and acted like normal the rest of the day. Dinner was a bit weird but nobody noticed anything. Everyone went to bed hours ago, it's almost 3 am now.

The house is dead quiet, I'm laying here in the dark. Still wearing the same panties. Still feeling exactly where he was pressed against me. My dad's best friend, the guy who used to read me bedtime stories when my parents went out. The one whos been hurting for months. I keep thinking about what will happen tomorrow morning. When we are both in the kitchen again, will he look at me the same way? Will he pretend nothing happened? I didn't stop him this morning. I didn't want to. And if he tries again, I'm pretty sure I'd let him.

Thanks for reading if you got this far. Good night.