Sara stared at the screen of her laptop, reading over the last part of the detailed outline on World War II she was forced to do for her history teacher, Mr. Miller, all because she hadn't been paying attention in his class. She'd had her mind on her father and watching him as he'd masturbated the night before and now that she had jacked him off herself last night, she found it harder and harder to concentrate, her mind was on her father and his cock and nothing else. She'd been working on the outline for the better part of the morning and was just about done, the outline taking up some ten pages. She just hoped Mr. Miller would be satisfied. And she still had to compose the thousand word essay on the effect the War had on the United States. She hated history. It was just that, history. Why did she need to know it anyway? The only thing she had to worry about was what styles were going to be in fashion for this summer, not what happened over seventy-two years ago. It wasn't just history, it was ancient history. "Piss on it," she said and moved the wireless mouse, clicking on the print icon, sending the outline to the printer that sat on the other side of her desk. "What's he gonna do, fail me my senior year?" She spent the next two hours writing the essay. She gathered up all the papers and stuffed them inside her notebook and slipped it inside her messenger bag, bidding good riddance to the homework.
Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't ate any lunch and she shut off her computer and got up from her desk, going down stairs to the kitchen. She hadn't seen her father all morning; he'd been working since breakfast, pouring over legal documents and briefs, preparing for the case he was going to have to defend Monday morning. She passed by the formal dining room and peeked inside. Her father was sitting in one of the high back chairs, totally disorganized or completely organized, with papers strewn all over the polished surface and in file boxes on the floor. She didn't interrupt him, just continued on her way to the kitchen to make herself a sandwich. She made one for her father also. She ate hers in the kitchen before she took her father his. "I made you some lunch, Daddy," Sara said as she walked into the dining room carrying a tray with his sandwich, a bowl of fresh fruit and a diet Coke on it.
Elliot looked up from all the papers strewn across the table and onto the smiling face of his daughter. She was holding a tray loaded down with his lunch and he let his eyes roam lecherously over her. She had her hair long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and she was wearing a white cropped V-neck tank top with narrow straps that strained to keep her huge breasts contained as they all but spilled over the edges of the cups, her areolas and nipples visible through the tightly stretched material and a pair of navy blue cropped yoga pants that sat low on her hips, hugged them and her taut ass tight, showing off the length of her toned legs and the expanse of her tight little belly. "Thank you," he said, quickly clearing a place for her to place the tray.
Any other time he would have adverted his eyes when she sat the tray down, but now that he had seen those breasts, tasted them, cum on them, he let his eyes take in every inch of the swollen globes as she leaned forward. He watched as her breasts jiggled, strained even more against the neckline of her top as she moved and he reached out, cupping her breast in his hand and pushing it up until first her areola was visible and then her nipple as it popped over the edge of the v-shaped cup. He flicked the side of his thumb over it, watching incestuously as her areola shrank and puckered and her nipple tightened into a hard, spice drop sized piece of flesh. "I rather have this for lunch," he said, lowering his head and flicking his tongue over her hard nipple, again and again until it was glistening wet with his saliva and harder than a rock. He sucked hard on her nipple, drawing up against the roof of his mouth.
Sara dropped the tray onto the table and thrust her fingers into her father's thick hair, moaning as she arched her back, thrusting her breast hard against her father's mouth. His mouth felt so good on her breast as he sucked and chewed lightly on her nipple, his saliva running down the curve. Her moans grew even louder as he feasted nosily on her breast, sucking on her nipple for a good three minutes, before he finally lifted his head and tucked her breast back inside her saliva soaked top.
"But Daddy has a lot of work to do," he said tugging up the side of her top until her areola was covered and her hard little nipple was straining against the tightly stretched and saliva soaked material that rasped against it. He gave her nipple an affectionate squeeze and dropped his hand. "Now run along and let me get back to work. I'll will play with you later."
Sara giggled. She was her father's new toy and it made her happy and horny at the same time. "Yes, Daddy."
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Elliot rubbed the back of his neck as he walked from the dining room; the muscles were tight from the stress of having to get everything in order before the trial. He usually had paralegals doing the work for him, but this was a high-profile case and the documents were too sensitive for just anyone's eyes. He got a bottle of diet Coke from the fridge and twisted off the top, talking a long drink. He needed the caffeine buzz to keep going and the acid in coffee only burned his stomach. He took another long drink and turned around, looking out the plate glass wall that had a view of the backyard and the ocean beyond the edge of the cliff. But his gaze didn't fall on the ocean; instead it fell on his daughter as she sat on a yoga mat in the grass just beyond the edge of the lanai in a full lotus position--her right foot on her left thigh, her left foot on her right thigh, her back perfectly straight, eyes closed, elbows resting on her knees with the tips of her forefingers touching the tips of her thumbs.
