"Lyza! Lyza! Where are you?" I shouted as I walked through the house looking for my 18-year-old daughter, a 5'7", 105 lbs., 32 D, straight "A" student as well as the first chair violin in her high school symphony. I married her mom long ago, after she graduated from school and I had been working for several years after the University. I was 46, only an inch taller than Lyza, and 178 lbs. Where her hair was a mousy brown, like her mother's, mine was dark brown. We were an open-minded, liberal family. Her mom, my ex, had left just a few weeks ago to be with some other guy.
I couldn't find her anywhere. She was supposed to be home from school an hour ago. She kept pulling these little acts more frequently these days. I walked down the stairs to the family room. There she was! Sitting on the floor with her back to me, talking on the phone, her skirt pulled up around her waist, with her free hand down her panties, or what there was of the tiny thongs she wore lately. I finally had had it. I was tired of this behavior.
"Lyza!" I almost yelled in her other ear. Shocked, startled, and looking very guilty, she slammed the phone down and turned it off.
"Daddy…" she squeaked.
I grabbed her by the back of her shirt, pulling her up off the floor, lifting her shirt much higher on her shoulders, pulling tight under her arms, almost baring the bottoms of her breasts. Her hands went down to her skirt, pushing and pulling the hem down lower, much lower, making the waistband of her multicolored thong come into my view. I swung her around, face away from me, and swatted her shapely young ass.
I was mad. She had done this so many times before. Too many times!
I swung around, Lyza in front of me, flopping down on the couch. I forced her down on my lap! One hand holding her head into the cushions of the couch the other poised above her rear.
"Lyza, you know I'm tired of this behavior. I catch you with your hand in your pants so often I can't stand it. What do you want me to do?" I asked as my hand came down on her rear.
"Daddy, Please! Don't! Please! Stop! Please! I didn't do anything wrong. I was talking with Kimberly about boys! And got excited. I had to do it." She defended herself.
Again my hand hit her soft spot. She wiggled and fidgeted on my knees, rubbing her thighs on my upper leg slowly spreading her legs apart.
My hand came down on her ass again, this time hesitating a bit and rubbing her skirt higher on her cute little rump exposing her soft round, thong divided sexy cheeks.
"Lyza, what-am-I gonna do with you? Every time I turn around I find you finger fucking yourself in some corner! You get me so mad and so horny I take you over my knees, spank you, and still you do it. What are you trying to do, get caught so I will do this?" I demanded of her.
My hand came down again, this time rubbing the skirt fully up to her waist, exposing the triangle of fabric where her thong came out of her rump crack and met the tiny, tight waistband. Immediately I hooked my little finger under the soft, silky material and pulled upward, hard, forcing the ass piece to turn the front quarter into pussy floss. She gasped loudly.
"Daddy, that hurts! Please! Don't! Please! Stop! Please!" she begged as her hips and butt humped and wiggled against the tight string.
I shifted my hand back around and whacked her again. "That's for teasing me so much! It's about time you learned what your actions do to others and me," I said in a much softer voice, my anger starting to subside.
"I don't care about other people," she whined. "I only care about you. I love you Daddy," she whimpered.
All this while my other hand was on the back of her neck, holding her head down and controlling her by squeezing her neck and pushing her head into the couch. Her hands flailed about trying to hit or grab me, without success. This time, she took her outside free hand and brought it up between my legs. She grabbed my cock and squeezed, hard, real hard.
I winced and brought my hand down again, this time harder, and curled my little finger deeper into her crack, forcing it into the opening of her backside hole, wiggling it into the breach.
