Do you know that feeling that you get when you know something is wrong, but don’t know exactly what it is? For me, it begins in my stomach. It settles there for a few days before it travels to my brain and consumes all of my thoughts. It doesn’t go away until I find out what that horrible something is.

For me, that feeling started in the fall, only a few weeks after my boyfriend returned to university. I decided to skip that year. I really needed to save some cash. I’d underestimated how much, well, everything costs at university. Tuition, books, endless fees, for Christ’s sake, I had nothing left over for fun.

My boyfriend came from a wealthy family. From a wealthy father, to be precise. His mother left the family when he was young, off to find someone even wealthier and older while she still had the perky tits of a twenty five year old. When my boyfriend told me what happened to his mother, I felt sorry for him. I was also secretly jealous of the woman. Good retirement plan, if you’re pretty enough to do it.

His father worked in construction. He wasn’t the kind of guy who dug holes in the ground or whatever it is that construction workers do. He’d inherited his own father’s company. They build prisons and jails all across the country. It’s pretty depressing when you think about it, isn’t it? Building prisons is so lucrative that you can become a multimillionaire if you know what you’re doing.

I didn’t see his father much when I started dating his son. He was always away in some random state doing different contract negotiations and leaving his son at home. He was usually supervised by an endless string of random women who wanted his father’s attention. They never lasted long.

I can’t blame them, really. The few times I met his father I was struck by how interesting and attractive he was. Not just struck, awestruck. You know how some people have it all? Brains, looks, charisma? The kind of people you look at and think: Damn, I bet they smell good.

That’s what his father is like. He always made me feel welcome when he was around, while his son was busy playing stupid games on his phone instead of spending precious time together. I didn’t have many chances to get to know the man, but I have to admit, I always wondered what being one of those temporary girlfriends was like.

And when my boyfriend stopped picking up his phone and stopped answering texts and social media messages during the third week of his sophomore year of college, aside from driving the three hours to his dorm, I didn’t know how to contact him. My friends weren’t his friends, and his friends weren’t mine.

Each time I called, it was the same thing: endless ringing, followed by his voicemail greeting. When I texted, it was like throwing random letters of the alphabet into the air, where they would never return. When I sent him messages on social media, I could see he was online. There was only one thing that could be happening - I was being ignored.

I didn’t know why. It wasn’t like we’d left on bad terms. We had sex the night before he left, and before I left his house that day, he’d told me he loved me and would see me in a month when he returned home for the weekend. Now what? He found someone else and can’t be bothered to have the courtesy to tell me? The least he could have done was block me on social media so I wouldn’t have had to see him online.

Driving to their house on the ‘good side of town’, I began rehearsing my speech to his father:

“Have you talked to David? He hasn’t answered his phone for a few days. I’m starting to get worried. Can I use your phone to call him?”

The idea of saying “I’m starting to get worried.” seemed to be a good ruse to get what I wanted. I knew that he rarely spoke to his father, but he picked up the phone whenever his father called. And even if he didn’t let me use his phone, I knew that he would call his son to find out what was happening.

I buzzed the gate to get access to their driveway. No answer. I wasn’t even completely sure whether his father was home, but I had to hope. I buzzed again. His father’s voice came from the intercom:

“Sarah, is that you?”

I turned to their security camera so he could have a clear look at my face. Then I waved. “Hi Mr. Terril! Yes, it’s me. Can I talk to you?”

I heard the sound of the gate buzzing open. I drove in and parked in my usual spot, near an old maple tree that I used to climb when David and I first began dating. The front door was open, and David’s father was standing there, with a towel wrapped around his waist. I’d never seen him like that before.

Goddamn, I understood why it was so easy for him to have so many girlfriends - money was only a part of it.

As I walked to the front door, he motioned for me to come in. “This is a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure, young lady?”

He’d always called me things like “young lady”, and it always made me giggle when he said it. I took it as lightly flirtatious, but nothing creepy. It was hard to think of anything he did as creepy.

This time was no exception. No matter how upset I was with my boyfriend, I couldn’t be upset at his father. After my smile went away, I explained that I hadn’t heard from David in days and I was worried that he’d been hurt.

His father gave me a strange look. “Sarah, I,” he seemed to be at a loss for what to say next, “I talked to him yesterday. Everything seemed to be okay.“

I looked down at my feet, unable to speak. I knew that David had been ignoring me and wasn’t in a hospital with broken arms and unable to answer his phone or tap out a message to me. I needed to know why he was being so careless with my feelings.

It was time for the next part of my speech. “Do you mind if I use your phone to talk to him? I’m not stalking him. I swear, I just want to talk to him.” I looked up from my feet and gave him the same puppy-dog eyes that always work on my own father. “I know he’ll answer if the call comes from your phone.”

There was a hint of reluctance in his eyes at first, but eventually he nodded. “My phone is in my pants, and my pants are in my bedroom. I was about to turn the water on for a shower when you turned up. That’s why it took so long for me to answer.”

He raised a finger to me. “One minute. I’ll bring it to you.”

As I stood in the hallway of the home, I began to wonder about the work it must have taken to afford such a place. I’d always thought of the guy as lucky. You know, lucky to have inherited an already successful business from his father. What I’d never thought about before was how easy it was to lose it all if you were lazy. One thing that I’d always noticed about Mr. Terril was that the man was anything but lazy.

His son, on the other hand, although charming and adorable, couldn’t even be bothered to drive to my house to hang out. At first I thought this was some kind of snobbery on his part, but within a few months I realized that even getting up from the couch was a chore for him.

Mr. Terril came around the corner, into the hallway again, phone in one hand and the other firmly at his side, gripping his towel. I looked at his phone first, then glanced between his legs. I saw the outline of his cock bouncing against the white fabric and my hands instinctively went between my legs. I needed some protection from the thoughts running through my head about the man, especially before I was going to speak to my boyfriend.

You know, his son.

He handed me the phone. “Here it is. Just swipe the button on the bottom to unlock it. Do you want me to dial the number for you?”

I shook my head. “No thank you. And thank you for letting me do this.”

He placed his hand on my shoulder. “It’s my pleasure, Sarah. If you’re off the phone before I get out of the shower, stick around. I’ll make you something to eat. Deal?”

“Deal.” I said, thinking that if he didn’t move his hand off my shoulder, I’d begin staring even harder at the outline under the towel. “I’ll be in the living room.”

He took his hand off my shoulder and took a step back. “And I’ll be in the shower in my bedroom. Knock on my door if you need anything.”

I followed him through the hallway, trying not to look at his bare, muscular back as we entered the living room. I took a seat on his couch and avoided staring up as he walked up the stairway leading to his bedroom on the second floor.

Clutching the phone in my hands, I looked through his contact list to find my boyfriend's number. It’s amazing how many contacts a businessman has in their contact list. I think I have maybe twenty people in my contacts, but Mr. Terri must have had hundreds.

I finally found it, listed as ‘Son’ with a heart next to his name. I clicked it. I heard ringing. After what seemed like ten minutes, he answered.

“Hi Dad!” I heard a girl’s voice in the background. Why is he with a girl?

“No.”I answered, in as flat a tone as possible. “Oh.” he replied, with a tinge of fear in his voice.

My tone remained the same. “I’ve been calling you.”

There was a sigh from his end of the conversation, then he shushed someone into silence. “I know. I’m sorry, I’ve been really busy. Why are you with my father?”

He was clearly trying to steer the conversation in another direction. I was not going to let him do that. “Why are you with another girl?”

“There’s no other girl here,” he started to say, then a girl’s voice interrupted him. “David, sweetie, who are you talking to?”

I rolled my eyes. You know how they say you can hear a smile on the phone? Well, I hoped he could hear my eyes roll. It was totally epic. “You’re a piece of shit, David.” I said, loud enough that the girl who was with him could hear it from the phone’s speaker.

“I can explain,” he started, but was interrupted by the girl’s voice again.

“You’re still dating Sarah? You told me you broke up with her! Oh my God, David!.” he tried shushing her again. She yelled, “She’s right! You are an asshole. Sorry, Sarah! I didn’t know!”

I recognized the voice as a girl from one of our study groups for our Earth Science class the previous year. “Jesus, David.” I said, clicking the button to hang up the phone.

I laid the phone on the table and fought back tears. I knew they were coming, no matter how much I tried to hold them back. It was devastating to know that he’d not only been cheating, but been cheating on me with someone I knew! The study group girl was cute, sure, but I had a much better body than she did. I also did all the weird, crazy things in bed that David asked me to do, never once questioning him.

I didn’t know any better. David had been the first, and only guy I’d ever had sex with.

I looked over at the mantlepiece surrounding the large fireplace in the home. There was a picture of David and I there taken the year before when his father had sent us on vacation to Florida together. I stood up and approached it, fully intent on breaking open the frame and tearing the photo in half, ripping my face and body from the picture.

I stopped before I got within arm's length of the photograph. Despite my emotional state, I was sure that Mr. Terril was going to leave the shower soon. I was also sure that if he caught me crying while making a mess in his living room, he’d bounce me out on my ass and tell me not to come back. I’d seen his dominant side a few times before - the man didn’t let anyone take advantage of him.

A thought entered my brain. A thought that I would never have considered only ten minutes before. Pictures. Don’t all men have pictures of their dicks on their phones? I knew David did. He even took a few videos of me sucking his cock, telling me that he liked to watch them when he was alone.

I turned around and walked back to the coffee table where I’d sat Mr. Terril’s phone down. Swiping across the bottom of the screen to unlock the phone, I felt two feelings: guilt and desire. I knew what I was doing was a terrible invasion of privacy, that if the situation were reversed, I’d be horrified to know that Mr. Terril had seen my nude body. Well, without my permission anyway.

On the other hand, I really wanted to know what was underneath that towel. This could be the last chance to find out. My only chance, really. David and I were through, that much I was sure of. I’d never be at the house again, and I’d certainly never see Mr. Terril as exposed as he had been when I walked inside a few minutes before.

I quickly opened his photos. At first, the photos were more or less what one might expect to be on a successful businessman’s phone. Photos of building sites, him at trade shows, awards ceremonies. None of what I wanted to see. You know, the good stuff.

Boring. Where is the mature man cock I came here for?

Another thought came to my mind. Videos. If he didn’t have pictures of his dick, he might have videos. David did, and like father like son, right? I closed the photos and opened the videos.

And there it was. A thumbnail of what looked to be a very enjoyable penis with a man’s hand wrapped around it. Even better, it was four minutes long! There was only one conclusion - he’d filmed himself jerking off.

David occasionally did the same thing. He’d film himself, then send it to me. Then I would film myself and send my video to him so he could enjoy the result. Apparently his father enjoyed doing the same thing.

There was one big difference. David’s father was nearly twice as long as he was, and nearly twice as thick. At least it appeared so from the thumbnail. There was only one way to find out for sure.

I needed to watch the video.

I felt like a different person as I clicked the thumbnail of the video. Like there was a version of Sarah that existed up until my finger pressed the picture, and a version that existed afterward. I felt naughty for wanting to see David’s dad jerk off.

Luckily, there was sound. Mr. Terril was speaking to someone, with a thick layer of lube slathered on his very, very nice cock. I watched as he grabbed it, then began stroking it up and down, saying all sorts of incredibly dirty things to whoever he intended to send it to.

“I want to fill your pussy with this and watch your body shake while you’re on top of me.”

“I need to feel your lips wrapped around the head while I cum in your mouth.”

As the video progressed, he became more dominant: “First, I’m going to bend your body over my desk. Then I’m going to take you as hard as I need, then yank your pretty hair while my balls slap against your clit. You know you need to be filled with this thing.”

My God, I’d been fucking the wrong man in the family. I began to wonder if Mr. Terril had any interest in girls my age. I mean, just once wouldn’t hurt, right? Maybe twice. Of course I’d never be bold enough to act on my desire for him.

Then he began to go faster. I began to feel a tingling sensation begin to happen between my legs. My heart began beating even faster than before. Silly, naive, nineteen year old me thought there was only one thing I could do to ‘help’ the situation.

I shut out the rest of the world and focused on his hand gliding up and down that wonderful, massive cock. The only sound I heard was his voice, which was now ordering someone, in my mind, me, to begin masturbating for him.

I held the phone in my hand as I moved the other under my shorts, then under my panties. I knew what I needed wouldn’t take long. A few minutes, maybe? Then I could lay the phone down on the table and wait for him to get out of the shower and explain what had happened when I called his son.

I turned the volume up. I wanted to imagine that he was in the room with me, speaking to me while his hand was on his shaft. I moved two fingers to my clit and began moving them back and forth, going as fast as I could.

I felt a presence beside me, then a hand on my back. I jerked my head and saw him standing there, shirtless, wearing only some workout pants. Mr. Terril.

“I’m glad you like it.” He said, with his eyes on my phone.

Shocked, I threw the phone in the air and screamed. Without missing a beat, he snatched it as it came sailing down. I jerked my hand out of my shorts. I felt my eyes go wide as I stared at him.