I Can See Into Dad's Bedroom

All characters are 18+ in this story.

Her life carried on for a month or so and nothing troubled the strange ritual that she had established without her father knowing: him sitting on the side of his bed tugging at his dick with the hand that did not hold the magazine and her watching from the room above through a small hole in the ceiling and energetically bringing herself to orgasm on the visual and the rough pulsation of her fingers in her vagina.

Like all pleasurable experiences it carried the threat of addiction and she grew increasingly disappointed when Dad went straight to bed without giving her the peep-show she expected. She then would lay in complete darkness, her upper body in close contact with the floor and the half of her face buried against the thin layer of carpet, the smell of which she'd associated with the experience and now loved. She would raise her butt in the air and spread her legs and though it was no longer a necessity of the only angle at which she could look down the hole she preferred it this way as she'd grown accustomed to it and helped her visualize the image of the erect penis of her father which had been so unjustly denied.

Outside the room, her relationship with her father only improved. She grew everyday more fond of the man and he of his daughter for she now radiated with affection and hugged him tight and often. Their conversations grew in length and depth and his status of confident which he'd held until teenagehood was restored. She confessed near everything: how her growing curves had made her self-conscious and she now feared the looks of the boys at school, how repeating the last year of high school had isolated her and she only kept quiet the recent development of a porn addiction and the substitute she'd found to stop.

Dad would agree or disagree appropriately but would let little transpire of his own feeling except for once where he commented she was in truth a very attractive young woman and her curves were nothing to be ashamed of as god had put them in the exact right places, and that perhaps he'd grown more physically distant because of them but her recent appetite for hugs hand put an end to that.

She soon discovered that she could somewhat manipulate the frequency at which Dad masturbated before sleep by strategically changing TV channels around teenage boys movies and thus reduced the amount of nights she'd have to resort to imagination for release. This only lasted a while for her father soon grew indifferent to it and started politely requesting against the repetitive and childish entertainment. In the manner of the addict which does not recognize the amorality of their action or the vulgarity of their character, she resorted to treasures of Sioux tactics to get him to deliver.

She started with longer hugs during which she would deeply press her breasts against her father's chest and soon she took to wishing him goodnight in more revealing pajamas but she was unsure if it indeed had made a difference in the sea of other stimuli her father might have been subjected to throughout his day at work.

The precipitating event and answer to the mystery of her father's chaste evenings was given to her fortuitously one morning through an innocent school paper she'd had him signed the previous evening but which he'd left in his bedroom. She remembered right before stepping into the car and he asked her to fetch it herself in his bedroom on the nightstand.

Though the room itself was never actually closed she rarely ever went and it was the first time she did so since she had started experiencing the space vertically. The nightstand was bare and the paper not on it but the lower drawer was slightly agape and she opened it and saw the small pile of magazines which were unmistakably those which she'd seen her father use to masturbate and receive the ejaculate.

She felt electric and reached in without thinking and pulled the topmost issue and raised it to the level of her chest and the weight of it in her hand was duplicated from the feeling of being so close to an object which had in fact been part of so many of her fantasies. She opened it with trembling hands and by means of fate opened between two thicker, plastic-covered pages where a naked woman stood laying sideways covered in the white creamy goo which had not been printed on but smeared by the pressure of the closing pages so that it covered all of them in a thin and even layer.

Whether the girl's mouth opened in shock or awe she did not know and she felt as if disassociated from her body by the uncanny encounter with what had so often busied her mind these last few months and the potent smell penetrated her nostrils. She fought an urge to lick the page and then she fought it no more and leaned her head forward and raised the book. Her tongue was drawn out flat and it lapped up about half the height of the page.

She'd acted mechanically and in one thoughtless motion but when her tastebuds encountered the thin layer of sperm and she processed the taste she snapped back to reality and pulled her head backward but let the book stand at eye level. Many thoughts competed to form in her overwhelmed mind: she'd actually missed half of her father's masturbations as he undeniably had made this here cum this morning and it was probably why he could step into bed some nights unrelieved, trusting in that or next morning's release; she had no answer as to why she had actually licked the sperm other than the attraction of the intoxicating smell. She always thought herself likely to dislike the taste of cum, having always shied from its contact, but though it did surprise her she felt no disgust. "I must be one of those women that's fine with it", she thought. She'd lost sense of how long she had been there and panicked at the realization she might have stayed suspiciously too long and scrambled everything back in the drawer and closed it and spotted the paper on the commode which she pocketed. She rushed back to the car and he said nothing when she entered.

She managed to keep her composure the whole evening with Dad but struggled to answer what she'd learned that day at school for she had spent it distracted in endless reminder and rationalization of the morning's event. She had come to realize that all these times she had never actually orgasmed before her father and it had been the sight of ejaculate, not of her father's masturbation in the strictest of sense that really got her going.

It was in a sense a comforting thought, as perhaps it was the substance itself and not who emitted it that was truly the origin of her pleasure. But this was no solution to her immediate problem, and when she reached her room and it was time to look down the hole she stopped to think: she needed to test the theory; it was in fact a physical need she felt at the moment as her thoughts had warmed up her flesh and she did look down the hole that night but resisted her body's every invitation to rub herself though it was a fight she won by a narrow margin.

The sight of cum especially got her in fiery lust and when she saw that her father had got up from his usual spot and listening carefully she heard the shower run she rushed downstairs and reached Dad's bedroom door which she opened quietly. The magazine was there, opened at yet another plastic-layered page and on it was a rather large, unsmeared bulbous blob of white cum from which two smaller thin streams stretched along the page where they had been blown with force. She picked up the book and felt stronger the smell of sperm and she put out her tongue in a point the end of which she dipped in the center of the mass where it stood most voluminous and picked up a small amount.

She had not taken off any of her clothes but when she felt the taste she wished otherwise for her panties had gotten soaked completely through and the experience had triggered some primal biological mechanism so that she radiated heat beyond that she knew possible. She was physically in heat and consequences where furthest from her mind when she energetically lapped up the whole of the blob and then again twice for the bits she'd missed and she stood there a few seconds playing with the surprisingly consistent substance on her tongue.

Then she opened her eyes which she had closed by instinct and it came to her that it was her father's essence that she had now in her mouth and she knew that it was wrong and considered spitting it back up on the page but decided against it and finally she swallowed the evidence of her mischief which made her feel things she was not yet capable of processing in her excited state. She put down the magazine in the exact position she had picked it up and hesitating whether to leave it open or closed she chose the latter hoping her father would think nothing of it, then she sneaked out back to her room where she masturbated normally and went to sleep happy.