All characters are 18 or older.
Brad's lips rose in a smirk, his breath quickened and his mind instantly stirred to life. He felt Robin's warm breath on his boxers, and knew by the steady flow of air, she had fallen asleep. He didn't recall her coming in and lying down on the couch, he too must have been more exhausted than he'd realized. His cock jerked slightly, his hand moved down to caress her hair. Immediately his fingers stilled, his eyes opened and his mind cleared away all the erotic images of his wife's slender lips. Brad stared down at his daughter Sierra, her lids closed, her mouth rested right against the head of his cock, covered in material.
"Thank god for cotton," he muttered softly. He wondered how he would disentangle himself from Sierra's position without waking her up and making it obvious to what was happening to his dick. He shifted slightly, only to pause when Sierra whimpered. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips; Brad found himself lost in the dream of fucking her face with the full passion she'd awakened. He shook the image from his mind.
It seemed like an eternity before Brad took a deep breath, and tried to order himself to wake up his daughter, to move her from the awkward position she'd taken up, and walk away – leaving her untouched, her mouth untried and tested. When she moaned again, rolled slightly away from his shaft, he thought all was saved. But much to his surprise, shock and slight dismay, her bikini top had slipped and a pink nipple now protruded out. He swallowed hard, his breath started and his mind reeled. Once again his cock jerked - the ache more evident in the swollen tip, beckoned him to take a longer look at his little girl.
The areole was slightly darker than the rest of her pale skin. She had a few freckles on her breast; at least the part he could see, some of her tit still remained hidden behind the bikini's fabric. Her breath fell steadily, signaling to Brad that she was still asleep. He looked around, heard the laughter of his wife and son outside. He licked his lips and slid one hand from the back rest of the couch and laid it gently on her stomach. To be safe, he quickly shut his eyes, hoping that small movement caused her to wake up. He held his breath. A part of him wanted her to awaken, to realize the position she was in and flee. She could leave, never knowing that her father had seen her nipple; she could forever have a little secret to keep and he would have his – no one would be the wiser.
A full minute passed before Brad opened his eyes, immediately he closed them again. Sierra was not awake. He shifted slightly, again hoping she'd move, but her sleep was deep enough that he knew she was going nowhere and he was going to have to sit there with his daughter's head on his lap, his cock straining for her pink lips, and his fingers itching for her perky nipple. Or – he could wake her up, humiliate them both and go on with his day, likely hooking up with his wife in the shower. The thought of showering with Robin made his cock jerk again; he hissed, and watched as Sierra's tongue darted out once more.
His hand rested on her stomach, its rise and fall was not lost on him, nor was the soft smooth skin beneath his palm. He let his callused fingers glide gently over her flesh, petting her. Soon he had moved his fingers up higher, resting them on the thin strap of material that held the bikini together. He licked his lips, before slowly bringing one finger to the edge of the fabric, the fabric that covered the nipple that hadn't peeked out at him. Carefully he followed the edge of the blue cord, its silk was hard to notice through his thick digits, but her skin was not. It seemed to be chilled; he looked closer, tiny goose bumps decorated her satiny flesh. His gaze immediately went to the exposed nipple. It was hard. The small ridges and dots that surrounded the pearl were slightly engorged. Another deep breath, another lick to his lips and seconds later Brad's hand moved as if it were attached to another man.
His pointer finger slowly circled Sierra's nipple. He was gentle, almost feathery, he had gone too far now, he couldn't wake her. She'd be mortified; hell so would he. He was only touching her; it wasn't like he was actually fucking her, just caressing her skin, tracing the darker flesh, brushing the hard bead, the thick ridges, and the tiny bumps. Her breath seemed to quicken. Brad studied her face; her brow had furrowed slightly, and her lips parted just a bit more. He continued to learn the feel, size, shape of her nipple. Casually as if they had all the time in the world, he rolled the tender nub between his fingers. His cock ached; he ignored the hunger growing deep within his chest.
The palm of his hand slid down, abandoning the rosy center so he could caress the rounded curve of the exposed breast. He gently pushed away the fabric, and smiled. "Fuck damn," he whispered, softly enough that even he hadn't been sure he'd spoken aloud. "Forgive me, baby," he hissed, before lifting his hand and wetting a finger against his tongue. He slid the moist tip over her nipple, much to his delight it seemed to leap at his attention. He groaned when Sierra's body shifted and her head lolled to the side, once more resting on his straining erection. Once more her tongue darted out, this time making contact with the thin material of his boxers. Brad grimaced in pain, pain he endured from his straining cock, and emotional turmoil; his imagination ran wild.
Thoughts carried him as he continued to tease his daughter's tit, and it was those thoughts that condemned him to Hell. He left her breast alone, slipped his hand under her lips; his movements were small, unrushed, and gentle. He eased her head away, just enough so he could slide his fingers inside the slit of his boxers. Carefully he grasped the head of his dick. Minutes seemed to tick away as Brad pulled his cock from the protective barrier that had kept his daughter's mouth free from his growing hunger.
