As long as Emily could remember, she had always had a thing for older men. Not really old—she was only eighteen after all—but, like, dad old. Men in their mid-to-late thirties. Twice her age was her sweet spot, she thought. The confidence, experience, authority that came with age was always more appealing than the naivete and cockiness displayed by her peers in the halls and DM’s. That isn’t to say she was sexually inexperienced with her own generation. She’d been with several guys from nearby highschools (she never wanted to get involved with ones she also had to sit in class with) and even two from the university over Spring Break. But she had yet to explore the frontier of her ultimate fantasy: being with a dad.
She wasn’t into *actual* incest, despite what some of her internet history revealed.
Not that it mattered; she didn’t have a dad. Well, not really. Her biological father disappeared when Emily was four after her mom found out he had been having an affair for ten years and even had a second family. It was just the two of them until her mom married Jay when she was a sophomore. Emily was pretty indifferent to his typical stepdad personality. She didn’t have that clichéd enmity towards the man like in all the teen movies, but she just didn’t connect with him either. He was a roommate who paid all the bills and fucked her mom. A lot.