One of the secret truths that I learned from seeing Rita and Dad is that the world doesnât stop just because youâve had sex. When I came down for dinner they were laughing and joking in the kitchen where theyâd just had sex, cooking a delicious dinner of Chicken Marsala. I watched them closely, looking for some indication of their afternoon tryst. But I was disappointed. They didnât share any secret âweâve just had sexâ looks, there werenât any whispered innuendos or surreptitious smiles. It was all just an ordinary dinner in every way.
Rita was still Rita, funny and charming. You couldnât tell that sheâd just let a man shove his thing into her. And Dad was till Dad, making the same jokes heâd always made and not looking at all like the man Iâd just seen spurting cum so hard that he couldnât breath.
But Iâd seen him panting and cumming. I knew the truth now. The look in his eye as he spurted into Ritaâs hand was as much a part of him as his love for James Bond movies, or the way he murmured âdumbassâ under his breath when another driver cut him off. It was another grown-up secret â sex wasnât everything, in spite of how you felt when you were a teenager. It was just another part of your life, albeit probably the most fun one.
So we had a nice dinner, with me knowing theyâd just made love and not letting on, and them pretending that they hadnât. As always, it was a fun evening. The only problem was, I still couldnât get the image of Dadâs tool out of my mind.
While we ate I tried not to stare at Dad. But all kinds of forbidden thoughts still kept running through my head. Me sneaking under the table to somehow get a closer look. Dad taking it out so that his little daughter could see. Daddy plunging it into me. I was drawn, enraptured by the visions in my mind, and I felt them all the way down between my legs.
I knew that at the very least I was going to have to give myself another good thrashing when I went to bed to relieve the desires my pussy was calling to me.
After dinner we all settled in to watch a movie on cable. Since it was Friday night I didnât have any homework, and I was able to spend the whole evening with Rita and Dad. Some of the girls I knew at school were planning on going out to a movie, but I quickly decided that Iâd rather spend the night close to my Daddy. It was a very intimate evening for me, now that I knew the things that Iâd just learned about grownups and sex and all. Sharing Dad and Ritaâs secret life, even if it was only one-way sharing.
After a languid evening in front of the TV, we all said our goodnights and went off to bed. I wondered if they were going to do it again in their bedroom, and the thought fueled even more yearning between my legs as I walked to my bathroom. Iâd taken a shower before dinner, so aside from the persistent moistness between my legs, I was still clean. I brushed my teeth and went to my room. I discovered then that just getting undressed can be a little erotic adventure of its own, if youâre already dripping and ready.
I had to search through my dresser a little until I found it â an old beige t-shirt of Dadâs. I took my tank top off and slipped it on over my jeans. I wanted my daddy close to me, and this was the best way I could thing of. I peeled off my jeans slowly, savoring the feel of them sliding down my legs. I took off my socks, and then I was ready for the main event. I hooked my thumbs over the top of my panties, and I slid them down slowly.
They were dripping with my goo and reluctant to leave the warm wetness of my crotch. I had to tug on them a little to get them unstuck from my slit, which caused delicious shivers to run down my spine. I was so far beyond ready that it wasnât even funny.
My original plan was to just lie on the bed wrapped in Daddyâs old shirt as I pleasured myself. But the image of Rita sitting on the counter with her legs wrapped around Dad flashed into my head, and that gave me a different idea. I closed my eyes and sat on the edge of the desk, pretending that I was Rita in the kitchen and that Dad was between my legs, about to thrust his thing into me. I closed my eyes and moaned a little as I put my fingers gently on my mound. I had never felt so open to an intrusion before, and my fingers slid into me as easily as if they were coming home.
I took my slippery middle finger (I always use my middle finger, did I tell you that?) and started flicking my swollen clit. My breathing was ragged and my eyes were drawn to my crotch as I tried to picture Dadâs sex there, eager and dripping as it tried anxiously to find its way into me. That did it.
I came, my sensitive clit alternately begging for more and pleading with me to stop as my second orgasm of the day shook through me. I would rub myself hard and fast, and then hold onto my pussy tightly. Over and over I alternated my fondling as I milked a good hard cum out of myself. I finally wound down, and I gently smeared my wetness all over my secret place as my breathing returned to normal.
Funny thing was, as hard as Iâd just cum, there was something inside of me calling out for more. That had never happened before. Usually after I came I was languid and sleepy, my desire sated for the time being. But somehow it hadnât worked this time.
I let myself down off the desk and went to bed. The sheets were fresh and clean, and I snuggled gratefully into them, curled up into a ball under my warm blanket. You know that world that exists between sleep and dreams? Mine was occupied that night by visions of Daddyâs thing. What did it look like, dripping and naked? What would it feel like inside of me? How hard would it shoot into me? Would I be able to feel his cum hitting inside me? I slept fitfully, my slumbers interrupted by hungry sensations between my legs and pictures of my daddy naked.
I tossed and turned, sleep mostly eluding me as the night went along. Finally I sat up. It was the wee small hours, maybe 2 or 3 oâclock. My breathing was kind of hard and fast, and my heart was pounding. The idea had come to me suddenly, and I knew there was no turning back. I was going to sneak a peek at Daddyâs naked thing. Maybe that would quiet the need between my legs and the curiosity in my head. I was a little scared of the idea, but determined to try anyhow.
I got up and padded down the hall to Daddy and Ritaâs room. I made sure that the hall lights were off, and then I quietly opened the door. I poked my head in, prepared to ask something innocuous should anyone be awake, but they were both asleep. The scent of Ritaâs sex was heavy in the air, and they seemed very much in love cuddled together in the bed.
I shut the door behind me, but I didnât let it latch in anticipation of a hasty getaway. I took a deep breath and got down on my hands and knees. That way I was below the level of their eyes should anyone look up. I slowly and quietly crawled around to Dadâs side of the bed. I was so afraid, but I guess that a dripping slit trumps a pounding heart. There was enough light from the moon and stars coming in from the window that looked out over the back yard that I could easily see what I was doing. Nervously, and trying not to think about what might happen if I got caught, I raised my head up and peered over the edge.
Dad was lying on his back, his manhood only inches from my face. Rita was lying on her side, facing away from us. I got up on my knees slowly. My mouth was practically drooling as his crotch came into view.
I guess it had never occurred to me that Daddy might not be naked. I learned that some men might actually put on some underwear to go to bed. Iâd seen how badly his manhood was straining to be free down in the kitchen a few hours before, and I guess I just assumed that in the privacy of his own bedroom he would have set it free.
But no. The anticipation Iâd been feeling came crashing down around me as I saw Dad was wearing a pair of boxers. They were silky and black and had little red hearts on them. I could easily see the mound of his sex under them, but I really had no more idea of what it looked like than I had in the kitchen. Less even, because now it was obviously not erect. I bit my lip as I tried to decide what to do.
I mean, the choices were obvious. I could get back on my hands and knees and crawl away, unsatisfied and with only faint hopes of gathering enough courage to try this again. Or I could try to move his shorts enough to see. Of course, that came with the huge risk of waking him. And what defense could a young girl present if she was caught sneaking into her daddyâs room and sliding off his shorts in the middle of the night?
I thought about my aching pussy, and tried to imagine living with the throbbing until its curiosity had been satisfied. I couldnât do it. There was no way that I could stand this any more. Daddyâs sex was stuck in my head like one of those songs that wonât go away. His little girl had to see it.
I reached for the snap at the top of his shorts. Slowly and carefully I worked my fingers under the elastic waistband so that I could unsnap them. I listened to his breathing, alert to any change that might indicate that heâd felt me. But I sort of forgot my fear as I realized how close I was to seeing it, and a delicious thrill ran through me.
The first snap came undone with a little pop, and I moved my hands down to undo the next one and then the next. My hands trembled a little in anticipation, and all I could think of was how large it had looked in Ritaâs hand. All I had to do now was spread the flaps wide.
I pushed them aside, careful to pay attention to Daddyâs breathing. It was slow and deep, and I gratefully let my eyes drop to my prize. It was nestled in his crotch, nowhere near as menacing and insistent as I pictured it would be. Why, flaccid it was hardly bigger than my fist. It was kind of pointed towards his chin like it had been in the kitchen, only way smaller. In spite of its size, I felt a warm gushing between my legs as I saw my very first grown up man.