I Slept with My Dad’s Friend — And I Can’t Take It Back

I didn’t plan it.
I didn’t even see it coming.
But it happened.

One night, one decision, and one man — my dad’s closest friend — changed everything.

It’s the kind of thing you never imagine yourself doing… until you do it.

He had always been around.

Barbecues. Holidays. Random weekend visits.
He was charming, confident, a little too good-looking for someone my father’s age.

At first, it was harmless.
A long hug. A lingering look. Jokes with just enough edge to make me blush.
But slowly, the energy shifted.

There was tension — and we both felt it.

It was late.
My dad had already gone to bed.
He stayed a little longer — “just one more drink,” he said.

We talked.
About life. Regret. Desire.
And then… silence.

That kind of silence where both people know exactly what’s about to happen.

And before I could think — we were kissing.

What happened next was electric.
It didn’t feel wrong in the moment.
It felt exciting. Forbidden. Real.

But in the quiet aftermath, staring at the ceiling with his hand still resting on my skin, reality crashed in.

I had just slept with my dad’s best friend.

I couldn’t look my father in the eye the next morning.
He had no idea — and maybe never will.

But I knew.

And guilt doesn’t go away easily.
No matter how thrilling the moment felt, the consequences are carved into my mind.

Because no one talks about what happens after you cross the line.
Not in books. Not in movies.
Not in real life.

The regret. The what-ifs. The emotional chaos.

Sometimes it’s not about whether something was right or wrong — but about why it happened, and what you do with the weight afterward.

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