It's the perfect opportunity. My wife's out shopping and my daughter's out playing tennis. The house is empty and I'm alone.
I go to my daughter's bedroom. My heart's pounding with a mixture of guilt, anticipation and lust. The walls are girly pink, the fluffy toy she's cuddled since she was two is still there on her pillow. The picture of her in that so short tennis skirt when she won the college tennis tournament last year is on her dresser. My eyes linger on her long tanned legs and her firm young breasts bulging under her thin white top. Even then at twenty, a year ago, she was a big girl with legs and a figure that are every boy's, and older man's, dream. And my dreams too! My eyes linger hungrily on that tennis skirt: her long bare legs are spread ever so slightly provocatively, as if unconsciously inviting a hand to lift that skirt and explore. I feel that familiar stirring down below.
I remember watching her play. Her dark hair in a pony tail flew up every time she leapt to hit the ball. That so short skirt flew up too, high up those long, tanned, so shapely, so wide spread legs, showing white knickers taut over her cheeky young bottom. My eyes followed her every move: every bounce of her breasts, every inch of her legs, every glimpse of her tight white knickers. My eyes were on her every time she squatted down to pick up the ball with her bare thighs wide, those white knickers bulging over that so erotic mound between her legs and a sweet innocent smile on her face for her adoring daddy. So often as I've lain in bed with my wife asleep beside me and my erection hard in my hand I see my daughter's tennis skirt fly up and her thighs spread as she shows me that inviting bulge.
I slide open the drawer of her dresser: the third one down where I know she keeps her underwear. My wife stacks her bras and panties so neatly. But not my daughter. Her lingerie is just stuffed in, so untidily she'll never notice I've disturbed it.
I rummage through white bras from high street stores and white cotton knickers. There's underwear I've seen in outline through the tight cloth of her skirts and wanted to follow with my fingers across her bottom. I run my fingers over panties I've glimpsed when she didn't notice I was looking up her skirt, and panties I've watched many times my as eyes follow her miniskirt up the stairs.
"Good girls wear white underwear, dear." I used to hear my wife tell her.
She's not such a good girl now: at least not in my dreams.
I pull out a pair of her brief cotton panties, white with a pattern of little pink rabbits, embroidered at the hems - so feminine! The thin cloth seems to remember the shape of her body, with a bulge where the front would cover the mound between her legs, and a faint yellow stain just where her slit would be. And there's a prize! There's a strand of dark pubic hair caught in the embroidery, the same colour as the bush between my wife's legs. For a moment I remember the feel of that hair against my hand, my lips and tongue and the smooth, wet, tight love lips it hides. But now I've found what I'm looking for!
That purple whale tail thong that peeps raunchily above the top of her blue jeans so tight they look spray painted onto her naked body. I run it through my fingers. It's so brief! The front's just a tiny triangle of sheeny purple satin hardly big enough to cover a woman's full bush, the back a strip just wide enough to nestle between the cheeks of her backside, and just a little bit more for show. She didn't know I was spying on her just days ago kissing her boyfriend with her eyes closed in blissful pleasure, with his hand under her denim miniskirt hungrily fingering her between her willingly spread legs through this same purple thong! I run the purple satin through my fingers. I imagine the feel of the soft bulge of her mound and the line of her vagina slit through it, and how smooth that satin would feel against my fingers as my hand fondles her buttocks before my fingers follow the taut satin along the valley between her cheeks to run smoothly under her between her legs to her satin covered mound. My penis is taut with erection now!
I strip naked and stand in front of her wall mirror. I'm in my mid forties but still fit and muscular from the gym. My rock hard erection's sticking up from my hairy balls to my big round penis head, straining with lust! I run my sweet young daughter's thong through my fingers. In my mind I tickle her navel with my finger tips, run my hand down her soft smooth belly and slip it down inside her thong. I hear my daughter's gasp of pleasure and excitement as I cup my hand over her soft, furry, sex juice moistened mound and ease a finger between her love lips, like that first time with her mother so long ago.
In my mind I see my sweet young daughter peeling her thong slowly, sensuously down her legs to show herself nude to some lucky boy. I see her from the front, slipping her thong down then posing with it down round her spread thighs erotically underlining her neat dark bush for her boy's hand to fondle and for his fingers to slide between her love lips. I see her from behind. Her boy hungrily pulls her thong down her naked thighs, she lets it fall, then as his hands fondle her bottom she spreads her legs wide for his hands to play. For my hands to play!
My hungry shaft strains for her, and for release of its pent up semen! I finger my balls and gently stroke my shaft with my finger tips. My buttocks clench and my hips thrust involuntarily forward at the delicious sexual pleasure of the feel of my fingers on the so sensitive taut skin of my hard erect shaft - my daughter's fingers!
