The moment I caught my father masturbating was the moment I knew I would fuck him. Or at least try.
It was April 11, exactly two days after I turned 18. I had only about six weeks left in high school, and was staying with Dad on a lazy, sunny Saturday. The day was unusually warm, allowing me to get a head start on my summer tan.
Dad had been mowing his lawn, and I watched him while I sunned and listened to my iPod. He was wearing gym shorts and a loose tank top, and I remember vaguely thinking that my 41-year-old father was aging well. He ate sensibly, and left for work early three days a week so he could hit the gym. He was nicely built, and barely broke a sweat pushing the mower around in 80-degree heat.
A couple of my girlfriends called him a DILF. Megan, my best friend since elementary school, was the most blatant about it. She told me straight up that she wondered what it would be like to get it on with my dad.
"Older guys like Alex are supposed to be the best," she told me matter-of-factly. "They last a lot longer, and they're mature and experienced enough to give us more pleasure."
My father was a veteran television reporter who worked for one of our local network affiliates. Megan was a self-professed groupie who lusted after him whenever she saw him on TV.
"I'd like to surprise him during one of his live reports, drop to my knees and give him a blow job," she joked one time. "Do you think he'd stay professional on camera during that?"
I chastised her for being so rude and dirty, though I was strangely proud that Dad had such a hot young secret admirer. But even after that revelation, I didn't really think of him in a sexual way.
Anyway, I had the music pretty loud, and was not aware of my father's presence until he intentionally blocked the late afternoon sun from my face.
"Jessica!" he barked, apparently having to repeat himself. He waited until I removed the earphones. "I'm finished with the grass. As soon as I get cleaned up, I'll start on dinner."
"Cool, Dad, thanks." My father was not much of a cook, but I appreciated the fact that he tried. He and Mom divorced years ago, so I usually only saw Dad every other weekend and for several weeks in the summer. Despite living an hour apart, we had a great relationship. He made it to nearly all of my basketball and volleyball games, and called me every couple of days just to chat.
I'm a sucker for old heavy metal, and was listening to AC/DC's "Back in Black." When that album finished up, I decided to head inside. On the way in, I had a craving for pizza, so I figured I'd ask Dad if we could get some delivered.
I yelled up the stairs but he didn't answer. As I approached his room I could hear the shower. I figured I'd just stand outside the bathroom door and ask him my question.
But the door was open halfway and angled so I could see Dad in the full-length mirror. The rippled glass of the shower doors afforded little privacy, and I clearly saw him jerking off.
I jumped back in surprise and shock, standing with my back against the wall like I was hiding from a crazed killer. But it was mere seconds before my curiosity lured me back. I slowly positioned myself to get a view of my naked, obviously horny father.
He was turned sideways and leaning toward the wall of the shower, with his weight on his left arm. His right hand was gripping his rigid cock, slowly sliding up and down the soapy shaft. His was only the third penis I'd seen in my life, but I felt reasonably sure it was about seven inches long and quite thick.
It was in fact his girth that made me want that cock. I curled my fingers as if holding his erection, and I wondered if I'd be able to reach all the way around it. I felt my skin flush with excitement. My pussy instantly warmed and sent a small tingle of electricity up my spine. My nipples began to harden to stiff little peaks.
I was so conflicted! Here I was peeping in on my father like some kind of back-alley pervert. This was a total invasion of privacy. And he was my father!
But I couldn't help my body's reaction. As I watched him leisurely stroke his flesh, I ran a hand down and pressed against my mound. I was quickly getting very hot, and could feel my juices beginning to flow.
Then I reached up to rub my erect nipples through the thin orange fabric of my bikini.
My bikini! Dad was beating off with thoughts of me! After all, I had just been lying out in front of him, clad only in a skimpy swimsuit and smoothing lotion all over my bronzing skin. I pictured him walking back and forth behind the lawnmower, allowing his eyes to wander across my firm flesh with each pass.
The more I considered it, the more I was sure. He went inside probably 20 minutes before I did, and could have been gazing down on me from the bedroom window. Maybe he fantasized about coming back outside, ripping off my swimsuit and slamming his big cock into my tight young cunt.
All at once I was shocked, embarrassed -- and more than a little turned on by that thought. I scolded myself. Surely my father was not jerking off to thoughts of incest. He was my flesh and blood. The man who helped bring me into this world, kissed my scraped-up knees, saved money for college.
But what if he was? Was that so wrong? And was it so wrong that I suddenly wanted to make his fantasy a reality? We're both adults now.
I wanted to keep watching him, keep lusting after his gorgeous cock until it blasted cum onto the shower floor. But I knew that Dad could easily see me if he simply turned his head. So I snuck back to my room and grabbed a towel before heading to the other shower.
As the scalding water pulsed over my skin, I slowly ran my hands across my breasts, teasing and pulling at my nipples. I imagined that those fingers belonged to my father. His hands were rough and strong, but he squeezed my tits ever so gently and told me I looked so beautiful. He slid those hands down around my ass, gripping the cheeks as he worked his thick penis inside me. As my orgasm approached I dropped my head onto his shoulder, urging him to pound his little girl harder and harder.
I opened my eyes and pulled two fingers from my sopping-wet pussy. I had cum very hard, but was not satisfied. I needed to be fucked, and it had to be Daddy.
With only a few days alone with him each month, seduction would be quite a challenge. But my father didn't stand a chance. I was convinced that no man would.
I'm a tall, athletic brunette with perfectly straight hair that falls to my shoulders. My breasts are barely a C-cup but just the right size for my body. My two previous boyfriends were fascinated with my nipples. They get very pointy and very hard when I'm excited, and they're surrounded large, dark pink areolas. But I'm most proud of my body from the waist down. My legs are long, sleek and toned, and they tan easily. My ass is full and round and looks great in a thong.
I decided my healthy collection of thongs would be a nice weapon to use on Dad. From the moment I got out of the shower that afternoon, I vowed to wear nothing under my clothes except those skimpy strings. I'd go braless whenever possible.
My father is the smartest guy I know so I didn't want to be too overt. But I just had to find out if my suspicions were true, and at the same time tease him mercilessly.
Dad did double-take when I came downstairs wearing only a long light blue t-shirt. But his glance was subtle and he didn't say anything. All that evening and again Sunday I tried to keep a sideways eye on him, hoping to catch him sneaking a peak at the sexy teenaged body on display. But I never did. Was I wrong about all this?
The weeks dragged on as I went back and forth to school, back and forth between Mom's house and Dad's. It wasn't until the middle of May that I realized my teasing was noticed. I went straight from school to my father's house on Friday afternoon and took advantage of the late-spring sun. Once again, I wiggled into my orange bikini and stretched out on the chaise.
Dad said he had some research to finish on the computer, so he stayed inside. I suspected he might watch me through the window, so I put on a show. I took extra time and care applying the sunscreen, making sure I didn't miss an inch of my warm skin. I started out lying on my stomach, unhooking the straps of my top and tugging the bikini bottoms slightly into the crack of my ass.
When I flipped over, I "accidentally" lost my grip on the top and allowed my tits to jiggle free for just a moment. As I settled back into the chaise I realized just how horny I was making myself. My nipples were easily visible through the thin swimsuit, and I had the urge to rub my pussy mound.
Now that I was turned over, my eyes searched the windows of the house from behind my sunglasses. I didn't see anything for a moment. But then I thought I could make out a faint silhouette, a few feet back from Dad's bedroom window.
I didn't really need any more lotion, but put some on anyway. Again, I slowly ran my oily hands over my tight little body, hopefully teasing my father and definitely teasing myself. Every few seconds I checked the window, and sure enough was able to make out some subtle movement.
Finally the silhouette disappeared, and the open windows allowed me to hear the shower start up. Dad couldn't take any more. He had to release his pent-up lust.
I dashed into the house, tiptoed up the stairs and entered his bedroom again. This time the bathroom door was closed, but I was too horny and too desperate to see my father's big dick again. So I slowly turned the knob and opened the door just enough to peek into the shower.
Dad was at it again. This time he was leaning back against the right side of the stall, underneath the shower spray where it wouldn't rinse the soap off his cock. I was mesmerized as I watched him slowly, patiently work his hand over the long thick shaft.
I started to reach for my burning snatch, thinking I might bring myself to orgasm at the same time as my father. But then I made a snap decision. I quickly stripped off my bikini and slipped in through the barely open door.
