I noticed the way he'd look at me whenever he thought I wasn't looking. He'd stare for several moments, licking his lips and groping his crotch. Damn-near salivating. He was a sick, troubled bastard, and I loved it. I got off knowing that he desired me, that he wanted to pound my bare, nineteen year old pussy and fill me up with his filthy cum.
I decided to tease him one day. A nice, sunny summer afternoon. I sat in the living room, sucking on a banana popsicle in the most inappropriate way imaginable whilst watching my father, sitting beside me on the sofa, from the corners of my eyes. My poor dad was gawking and gnawing at his lower lip, squirming uncomfortably as he watched me effortlessly take the entire popsicle into my mouth.
As I sucked and licked, I noticed his hands slowly moving to his crotch. He was perhaps dying to adjust himself so that his cock could breathe. I wondered how long it'd take him to excuse himself and escape into the bathroom...how long he was going to watch me treat my popsicle like a rigid cock.
"Gonna take a leak..." He finally said in a soft tremolo. He rose from his seat and trotted upstairs where I heard his bedroom door open and shut.
I pondered as to what he was actually doing in there. Mom was still at work, so he might have been taking advantage of the fact and rubbing one out. The thought got me hot, my pussy lips slightly twinging.
I knew there was a rule somewhere that said fucking your parents was wrong, but I didn't care. The sheer wrongness got me hot, and the thought that my dad was probably in his room stroking his cock because of me made me even hotter. I had to see what he was doing. Maybe, just maybe, he'd get the gall to toss me onto his bed and fuck his daughter's brains out.
I disposed of the popsicle in the kitchen before I silently made my way upstairs to his room. I approached his door on hushed footsteps, slightly canting my head to listen for any strange sounds. I hoped to hear some moaning or the sound of his hand beating his cock.
I pressed my ear against the door. Nothing. Not even the sound of breathing. Perhaps he really was using the bathroom? I felt a tad disappointed, but I wasn't going to give up just yet. Taking a deep breath, I slowly turned the knob and cracked the door open to a darkened bedroom where the only source of light was from the crack at the bottom of the closed bathroom door. So he was using the bathroom.
I stepped inside, tip-toeing to the bathroom door. I could hear him breathing...low, sharp breaths, and the distinct sound of his hand pounding against the base of his cock. The pervert was getting himself off in there!
Struck with newfound confidence I let myself inside, my lips spreading into a wide grin as my father, sitting on the comode with his pants around his ankles, yelped in surprise, desperately trying to cover himself.
"Marie! Jesus—knock, don't you know how to knock?" He stammered out, his chiseled features beet red from embarrassment.
"I sure do, daddy," I said as I fell gracefully on my knees, and crawled over to him.
